Page 34 of Fiery Romance

I would prefer if you didn’t since she’s trying her best to snatch you and Regan away from me.

Keeping those thoughts to myself, I sit across from Abe. To my right, Regan is chomping happily on her eggs. I put a forkful into my mouth. It tastes like sand.

Abe pushes his fork around his plate.

I clear my throat. “I hear congratulations are in order. You got a part in the play?”

His eyes whip up and narrow on Regan.

She pulls her lips into her mouth and sinks into her seat, pretending not to notice.

“Hey, don’t glare at your sister. You don’t know who my informant is.”

I speak firmly, but maybe my tone is a little too rough because a flash of hurt crosses Abe’s face.

He drops his fork on the table. “Can I be excused?”

“You haven’t even finished your eggs yet.”

“Not hungry,” he says moodily.

The boy is one year shy of being an angsty teen, but he’s gotten two years of practice. I can’t imagine how much worse it’s going to get next year when he actually hits his teenage stride.

Abe heads back upstairs.

I sit there in my failure.

My son hates me.

Maybe the wrong parent died.

Regan kicks her legs under the table. “Daddy.”

“Hm,” I mutter faintly.

“Maybe Island can do Abe’s hair. I bet he’ll be happier then. Everyone looks happier when Island is done with their hair.”

I zip my emotions back into a bag and toss that bag far away. Trying to smile for my baby girl, I lean toward her, kiss her forehead, and tap the plate. “Finish breakfast and then get your backpack. I’ll take you and your brother to school.”

* * *

After dropping off Regan—andreceiving about a million butterfly kisses—and dropping off Abe—who looked like he was willing to jump out of the car while it was still moving to keep from talking to me, I drive to the company.

The office where we meet clients is different from the converted warehouse where we run drills and do training.

I spend most of my time at the warehouse. I like whipping recruits into shape way more than listening to a broken-hearted wife vent about her husband’s infidelity.

Client work is a big part of our success and I’m not dogging that, but if it’s not clear yet, emotions are not my strength. If not for Cody encouraging me to hire Lincoln, I probably wouldn’t have kept the private security firm open.

I’m glad I did though. Not just for the money, which is plentiful and unnecessary thanks to Cody’s Midas-like thumb and our family’s inheritance. But training and equipping ‘soldiers’—albeit soldiers for hire—gave me a sense of normalcy in a world that was quickly falling apart.

I shrug out of my jacket and frown when I see Link standing at the door waiting for me. He knows better than to bother me with admin work when I’m at the warehouse. If he’s here, it means I’m not going to like anything he wants to discuss.

“Yeah, good morning to you too,” Link says in his heavy, smoke-three-packs-a-day voice.

He’s wearing a plaid shirt and long khakis. No one would be able to tell his right leg is thirty percent flesh and bone and seventy-percent metal by looking at him. But since I know him well, I can detect the slight imbalance of his gait.

“I thought you’d be busy with our cyber security branch these days,” I mumble, leading the way to the gym.

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