Page 45 of Dangerous

Twenty minutes—and a pint of ginger ale—later, I sat on the couch in the living room and tapped my fingers against my bouncing leg while I watched the timer on my phone tick down with agonizing sluggishness.

30 seconds until I knew if my life would forever be altered.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

20 seconds.

What the heck was I gonnado?Did Blaine even want a child?

15 seconds.

DidIwant a child?

10 seconds.

Why couldn’t Rob have waited with his sly little shopping surprise until Blaine and I had at least had time to sit down and talk about everything that had happened between us yesterday?

5 seconds.

Oh God, oh God, oh God!

The sharp sound of my phone’s timer made me jolt, even though I’d been staring unblinkingly at it for two minutes straight. I snatched it up and flat-out ran to the downstairs bathroom, where I’d left my test.

It lay on the side of the sink, a little blue cross clearly visible even from the door where I was clutching the frame in an effort to keep upright.

I was pregnant.

I was going to have a baby.Wewere going to have a baby.

It was an odd sensation—half of my brain was in the middle of throwing an epic-sized freak-out, complete with violent tremors and hyperventilation. But the other half, the one I clung to in order to not cave to the meltdown and start screaming and/or crying, was completely calm. And happy.

Yes—I wanted a baby. This baby. Blaine’s baby.

It wasn’t practical, it was the worst possible timing, and I had no idea how Blaine would react, but in the core of my very being I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I wanted this child. With all my heart.

I had to talk to him. Now.

My calm side fused with the freaking out part at that simple thought. I needed to tell Blaineright now.

I spun around and was about to run out the front door when I remembered the offensive list he’d made for me on the first day of my arrival. It still hung on the fridge, spelling out the house rules in big, black letters. I wasn’t supposed to go into the shed, where I knew he currently was.

No doubt the guys out front knew I wasn’t supposed to either, and if I came barging out like the Tasmanian devil then they’d likely stop me from getting to Blaine.

Quickly, I headed toward the window I’d escaped through the night of our big fight. It led into the garden, and I knew it wasn’t visible from the front of the house. At night, Blaine had ensured someone was always walking the perimeter after I gave him the slip, but there weren’t any men stationed there during the day.

As quietly as I could I clambered through the window and landed in the soft soil underneath. There was a clear line from here to the shed, and with a little luck, no one would spot me before I got there.

I rushed across the dead winter grass and opened the shed without making any sort of noise that could alert Blaine’s bodyguards. I felt mighty proud of my own stealthiness as I slipped in through the door.

But before I could open my mouth and call out for Blaine, the scene I’d unwittingly stepped into clicked into place—in crystal clear high-definition. I choked, managing to strangle off a yelp of pure and utter horror.

The shed was fairly big, and immediately in front of me stood a couple of large barrels that half hid me from view. Perhaps that was why Blaine didn’t see me. Or perhaps it was because he was completely focused on the man he had tied up on a chair in the middle of the shed. There was plastic wrapping spread out underneath him and splatters of blood covered it. His body was covered in bruises and lacerations.

Blaine swung his arm, and the chain in his hand whipped through the air and cut deeply into the man’s flesh. He screamed, but a gag in his mouth cut off the sound so only a whimper escaped.

The world seem to spin. My knees gave in and I halfway fell into a crouch behind the barrels, breathing deeply to not make a sound, even though my chest was tight with horror and grief.

I’d seen this scene before. Too many times to count. My brothers, my father, and their men had done this in our basement. To enemies, snitches, and people who failed to pay up.

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