Page 61 of Arrogant Bastard

I haven’t forgiven him for that, and I don’t think I ever will.

So I swallow the familiar Sunday school prayer verses that attempt to rush past my guard, and double-check my Ruger for the seventeenth time. It’s a comfortable weight, and the three-inch barrel makes it compact enough to sit in my purse without attracting too much attention.

“Are you ready?”

I turn from the bathroom mirror to face Killian.

My op partner. My lover. The father of my child. It’s a transition I haven’t had time to make room for. Not with the insane roller coaster my life has been twisting on for the last six months. Not when we were so new. I search his beautiful face, analyze his sexy grin. I think of his serious alpha side, and his protective side. His razor-sharp intellect, and his killer body.

Everything about him checks the box for lover, and someone I can trust to have my back in the field.

But father?

From what Matt said about him before we met, I expected a selfish billionaire asshole with a heavier dose of the sexist traits his brother displayed so carelessly toward me. Or worse.

But I learned very early on to take what my now-deceased husband said with a bucket of salt. And that was before I found out his true intentions in marrying me. I was the poster woman for his campaign. The photogenic, law-abiding, churchgoing citizen from a respectable middle-class family, who just happened to have a dead sister.

Matt’s good looks and trustworthy vibe brought in the needy suburban housewives and easily charmed grandmothers. My deep love for my dead sister and my campaign for stringent laws for sex offenders opened the floodgates for the sympathy votes.

I stood by his side and watched him win his congressional seat by a landslide.

And then the lies, the contempt, and the long absences in DC started. Rumors of his affairs with his female staff hurt at first. But then, weirdly, the pain went away. By the time Killian turned up, I was over the initial shock of being blindsided, yet again, by a situation I never saw coming.

Where anger and grief had fueled my path on Julia’s behalf, cold calculation and the solid reality of divorce papers reassured me when it came to Matt. I intended to serve the papers at a time when it would cause him the most damage. He’d used my sister’s precious memory as a stepping-stone for his career. And just like I’d done to Heather Jane Fitzgerald when I was sixteen, I was going to pay Matt back for his betrayal.

Only he got it worse. My intention was to punish him. I never wanted him dead. He would still be alive if Killian hadn’t shown up and turned everything on its head.

“Faith? Are you okay?”

I focus on Killian. We’ve fucked more times in the last six months than I’ve had sex with anyone since I lost my virginity at eighteen. And yet, there are so many things I don’t know about this man. He never talked about his parents save to say they never loved him and he grew not to give a shit. Which, loosely translated, meant he thought they deserved everything they got in the end. Would he be a great father? Or even an okay one like my father was before my actions drove a wedge between us?

And what about me? A newly trained operative with a child? And, hell, do I even want this child?

Yes. My certainty on that front is unshakable.

“Baby, what’s going on?” Killian’s sharp voice slices through my thoughts.

I push everything to the back of my mind, especially that last bracing, definitive answer that produces even more questions, to deal with later.

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I spaced out for a bit, imagining you wearing nothing but that tunic for me later.”

His eyes gleam with predatory hunger. “Oh yeah?”

“Hmm, I have visions of ripping it off you the way you’ve been ripping my clothes off lately. I’m going to need a new wardrobe soon if you keep that up, by the way.”

He closes the gap between us and places his hands on my hips. I toyed with wearing either traditional attire like the one Killian is wearing or going with my favorite designer. My black Alexander Wang dress with the slightly flared skirt won out.

“I’ll buy you a dozen new wardrobes for the privilege and pleasure of getting you naked at the quickest opportunity.”

“Wouldn’t it be more cost effective for us to move to a nudist colony?” I joke as he pushes his face into my neck.

He stiffens against me for a moment and then slowly relaxes. “I’m not going to start the evening by thinking homicidal thoughts about even the possibility of anyone else but me seeing you naked.”

I’m still getting used to the blunt instruments that are Killian’s jealousy and unbridled possessiveness. I’m also getting used to the fact that it gets me shamefully wet when he goes all primitive alpha on me.

Would he be the kind of father to prowl his front lawn with a loaded shotgun to deter boys once his daughter turns sixteen?

God, what the hell am I thinking? I don’t even have official confirmation yet, I have zero idea how he feels about fatherhood, and we’re in Cairo on a dangerous assignment, currently en route to what we both suspect is a sex party involving underage kids.

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