Page 85 of Ireland

When Eva awakened, he would tell her they should start trying. He was going to convince her that he wanted to, which he did, and he would find a way to put the memory of their previous miscarriage behind them.

The wind whipped through his hair as he followed Lucky’s paw prints. He took the stick when it was brought to him and threw it again.

He and Eva would mitigate the risks as best they could. He’d ensure she got lots of rest, wasn’t on her feet too much, had no stress or worries whatsoever, and overall, had the most peaceful and restful pregnancy achievable. She wanted their child, and he would do everything in his power to grow their family safely and in good health.

When Lucky returned to him again, Gideon turned to throw the stick toward the house, and they started back. Now that he had the beginnings of an actionable plan, he was keen to tell Eva and get started.

He laughed at himself for his sudden eagerness. He was already technically putting the effort in. He made love to his wife at least twice a day, often more, a frequency which shocked their therapist but was as necessary to them as breathing. Sex was how they bonded, allowing them to express the love that words were inadequate at communicating. And Eva was presently taking the placebo pills in her birth control pack while on her period, which meant she was already weaning off the hormones.

They were ready to begin trying.

So…

Throwing the stick one last time, he went to the bottom of the stairs and started up. The salt breeze ruffled the hair at his nape, and a sudden chill coursed down his spine, spreading goosebumps in a prickling wave across his skin. He paused mid-step, struck by a growing uneasiness. Lucky ran past him upthe stairs and reached the top, then stopped suddenly, his body crouching as he began growling low in his throat.

Tilting his head, Gideon listened intently for any creaking on the deck above him.

He’d left the door open…

Spurred by icy terror, he raced up the stairs and ducked low when he reached the deck, making himself a smaller target. Lucky launched into frenzied barking. The house was still dark, the folding door still open. Darting into the house, he jabbed the silent alarm button below the security system panel, alerting the team on his way to the interior stairs, which he took two at a time to reach the bedroom.

He ran in, stumbling around the bench to reach Eva. Dropping to his knees, he felt for her almost blindly, his hands finding her soft, warm body.

She woke with an audible start, turning toward him. “What?” she asked huskily. “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

Relief made him giddy, his heart pounding so hard he felt dizzy. Through the open bedroom door, he saw the downstairs and deck lights coming on as the security team swept the house.

With a rueful laugh, he sat on the edge of the bed. “I think I psyched myself out,” he admitted.

The landing light came on, and Raúl filled the doorway.

“I need to clear the room,” he said, flicking the switch on the wall and entering with gun drawn. He moved efficiently through the space, checking the bathroom, closet, and even under the bed. Meanwhile, outside on the uppermost deck, a male silhouette passed by their closed curtains.

Eva sat up, hugging the blankets to her chest. “What’s happening?”

He ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “I took Lucky out, and the breeze hit me wrong. Felt like someone walking over my grave. Then he wigged out about something, and I reacted.”

“Better safe than not.” Raúl retreated to the doorway and shouted down, “Clear!”

“I’ve got something,” Chase yelled back from outside.

All three of them tensed. Raúl headed down swiftly. Gideon stood, grabbed Eva’s silver kimono from the bench, and handed it to her. He shrugged into his robe and belted the black silk, then took his wife’s hand and led the way down to the living area.

Their team of three men—Raúl, Chase, and Rizwan—stood on the deck with Lucky sitting at their feet. The group had clustered at the top of the staircase to the beach, and it took him a moment to follow Lucky’s gaze and understand why.

The lethal crossbow bolt was black and, against the weathered gray siding, almost invisible. The vicious tip pierced the side of the house, its shaft a nearly straight line.

Chase glanced at them briefly. “Stay indoors.”

Sliding an arm around Eva’s waist, Gideon urged her to move inside with him. Settling her on the couch, he kneeled in front of her. “I’m going to start a pot of coffee for the team. Can I get you anything?”

She looked at him with blank, haunted eyes, and he saw the hopelessness there and something far more painful he recognized from when her mother had died: grief. Her silence was like a scream to him, her petite frame sagging under the weight of resignation. She’d already believed they weren’t safe enough to have a child; now, that belief was established as truth.

Gideon moved into the kitchen and started working on the coffee, repeatedly lifting his gaze to watch the team work. Through the open folding doors, he heard them clearly.

Raúl took photos of the bolt with his phone. “We’ll check the security recordings, see when it was shot at the house.”

“From the trajectory,” Chase said, “we’ll determine where the shooter was.”

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