Page 14 of The Secrets We Share

Men who've already had to save your ass once from being kidnapped and then stopped it from happening a second time.

My stupid logical brain points out.

I halt on my back-and-forth pathway, turning to stare him down. "What about you?"

He doesn't miss a beat, lifting his left arm. Against the inside of his bicep, camouflaged by dark ink, the slight bulge of a tracker sits under his skin.

"I wouldn't ask you to do something I wasn't willing to do. You want to know where I am, it pings directly to your phone, sweetness. But before we handle this, there's something more important to discuss." He draws in a deep breath, and the beautiful artwork on his chest expands.

"The test results."

He nods and pulls out his phone. "I haven't opened them yet."

"I figured as much." I push away the tracker bullshit for now and move around the desk, dropping against it in front of him.

"How long have you known?" he asks, eyes unfocused across the room.

"Long enough to deduce you weren't ready to hear the results—either way." I let that settle between us.

He shifts, eyes settling on me while his fingers grip my chin, ensuring he doesn't lose my attention. "This doesn't change anything. You hear me. You're mine, little one. I'll never let you go."

Emotion coils in my throat, clogging my agreement, but I still manage a small nod. He deflates from the small motion and hands me the phone with the lit screen. His grip moves from my face to my waist as he waits for the life-changing news.

I've been waiting for this information for months. I'm a rip the wax strip off on two and let the pain barrel in so you can shove it down and away instead of waiting anxiously in anticipation kind of person. My eyes scan down the markers with random numbers, looking for the important bit. They stop, and my whole body tenses at what I see:the alleged father is excluded as the biological father of the tested child.And then everything inside me crumbles, and the phone slips from my fingers, thudding to the floor. Harkin is on me in a second, gathering me into his arms. Wetness skims my cheeks as I breathe in his scent, tucked into his neck.

"Fuck baby, I'm so sorry," he whispers to me as if I need consoling.

The silent sobs of relief turn to giggles, and he shoves me away at arm's length. "I—I won," I whisper, shocked something in life didn't try to take me out at the last minute—his confusion broadcasts. I clarify and expand, saying, "She doesn't get you. Not even a sliver."

"It's negative?" He stares me down.

"Yeah. Why were you worried?" I tease. The elation of finally having that dark cloud banished from over our heads washes over me.

His eyes tighten, and the firm grip my wet dreams are laced with curls around my throat before my smart mouth can run away with me. He uses the leverage to push me back until I’m lying flat against the desk and my head hangs off the other side.

His open mouth trails down my throat and across my chest. The sharp bite of pain from his teeth sinking into the top of my bulging breast makes my pussy pulse, distracting me.

Because in two point five seconds, his fingers intertwine with mine, stretching my arm out on the desk, and a piercing sting radiates from the sensitive flesh of my inner arm.

"Fuck!" I scream and twist under his weight, trying to break free.

"Two problems solved." He winks and drops a quick kiss on my forehead.

The office door flies open, James poised with his gun at the ready and my best friend at his back. He takes us in and holsters his weapon, assessing that there's no danger, but he'd be wrong.

Popping off the desk, I swing on Harkin. I don't put all my weight into it without wraps, but the right jab catches him off guard. I take a play from his book and grab his chin, lowering my voice. "If you ever do some shit like that again, I'll cut the thing from my body and drop it in the ocean. Have fun finding me then."

I turn on my heels and move past James as he watches the exchange in his usual stoic manner. Wrapping my fingers around Stacey's wrist, I pull her behind me, calling Cinder to follow as we finally leave for our stupid fucking run.

EIGHT

HARKIN

Run for Your Life - The Seige

The video call disconnects, and the screen goes black. My chest expands as the deep sigh I’ve been holding for the last twenty minutes finally lets loose. The chair rocks when my weight slumps backward in defeat. Gone was the bubbly Martha Stewart homemaker my mother had always been. In her place, a disheveled shell of the woman I was expecting. She could barely string a coherent sentence together; an obvious mix of drugs and alcohol coursing through her veins, if the multiple open bottles of both on the kitchen counter were any indication.

I needed to go back to California. See her face to face and clear the house of substances. Shit, maybe even forcefully admit her to an inpatient facility. The memories of that time in my life are hazy at best, but therapy helped. Getting out of the environment that allowed me to drown in my pain was the only way out that left me alive on the other end.

---