Page 191 of Enemies

“Congratulations,” I say, fixing on a smile.

“Thanks, Harrison.” Annie’s tight-lipped. “You didn’t need to send the stroller, but it’s great. It does everything except handle my calendar.”

My smirk fades when Tyler says, “Would you like to hold Rose?”

“I don’t think?—“

Before I can protest, he presses the sleeping bundle into my arms.

Christ. She’s all pink and soft, and as her weight settles in my arms, she’s not heavy, but precious. She twitches as she wakes, and eyes, dark brown, with little flecks of gold, blink trustingly up at me. Her tiny nose wrinkles, her mouth working. She has a full head of Annie’s red hair, and if she has an ounce of her father’s talent and her mother’s fearlessness, she’ll be a force.

She’s innocent and loved. I hope it’s a long time before she sees the darker sides of the world.

I clear my throat, glancing back up at my friends. “I can see you in her,” I tell Tyler.

“Hopefully not for long,” he says dryly, tugging his wife against his side as I look back at the baby.

A flash goes off.

“For posterity,” Annie says, tucking the phone away as Sawyer and Tyler strike up a conversation.

I’m not sure what she means. “You want a photo of your child with a villain?”

“You’re not a villain. Or if you are, she didn’t call you one.”

Annie holds out her arms. I hand the baby back.

Rae’s probably told her I’m a massive prick for how we ended things.

“What did she call me?” I can’t help asking.

Annie’s gold eyes shine with emotions—a damn rainbow of them. I can see why she’s a capable actress. She hitches Rose higher in her arms. “Rae was at an event last night. In London.”

It feels like a lifeline. “London? But Wild Fest just happened this past week.”

“And you know her schedule.”

I’m caught out. “I want to make sure she’s safe.”

“I was rooting for you guys. Even though it sounds like she’s moved on.”

With a furtive look toward the stroller, she hands the baby off to Tyler, then retrieves her phone again. She taps the screen a few times before holding it out.

The social media account belongs to my brother’s football club, and the date stamp on the post says last night.

The photo on the screen is a kick in the gut.

The woman I love is stunning in a slinky black dress that skims the floor, plunging low between her breasts. She’s gorgeous, glamorous, and unlike the Raegan I met a year ago. Her skin glows in the light from the venue and the flashbulbs, her lips full and painted a dark plum. Her dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, clinging to her perfect breasts.

But it’s not her body that makes it impossible to look away.

There’s a confidence she wears the fuck out of.

I rip my gaze away from Raegan to take in her companion and get a kick in the gut for my efforts.

Next to her is my brother. His hand rests on her ass and his lips are near her ear, her half smile an afterthought for the cameras given whatever he’s telling her.

I clench the phone hard enough my forearm shakes.

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