Trent actually smiles at that. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he says, but there’s no real heat in his words.
I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. This is it. The moment I’ve been building up to all evening.
“Actually, there’s a reason I wanted you all here tonight.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I have something important to tell you.”
The room falls silent, all eyes on me.
Carl sets down his fork, his expression growing serious.
Jake’s hand tightens on mine.
Ash leans forward slightly, his protective instincts already kicking in.
“I want the men in my life to get along,” I continue, looking pointedly at Trent and then at each of my lovers in turn. “Because what I’m about to tell you affects all of us.”
The silence stretches, heavy with anticipation. I can hear my own heartbeat, can feel the weight of their stares.
“Because I’m pregnant.”
52
CARL
The coffee in my hands has gone cold, but I don’t notice.
I’m sitting across from Detective Mike Rodriguez, an old friend from my playing days who joined the force after a career-ending injury.
The evidence spread across his desk makes my blood boil.
“We got him, Carl,” Mike says, tapping the warrant with his pen. “Your tip about Mica Torrino paid off big time.”
Three days. It’s been three days since Trisha dropped that bombshell about being pregnant, and I’ve barely slept.
Between processing that news and dealing with this stalking situation, my mind’s been spinning like a washing machine on the fritz.
“What did you find?” I ask, though part of me doesn’t want to know the details of how that bastard has been terrorizing her.
Mike flips through the photos. “Surveillance equipment, telephoto lenses, hundreds of pictures of Trisha and the team.He’s been watching her for months, Carl. We also found the missing equipment from your road trips.”
My jaw clenches. “Son of a bitch.”
“Gets worse. He had detailed plans of her apartment building, her work schedule, even Rebecca’s school pickup times.” Mike’s expression darkens. “This guy’s been planning something big.”
The protective instinct that’s been simmering in my chest for weeks now roars to life.
The thought of that psychopath anywhere near Trisha or little Becky makes me want to put my fist through something. But there’s more than just them to think about now.
There’s the baby. My baby. Maybe.
Christ, I might be a father again at forty-eight.
“Since he’s a felon and this violates his parole in about six different ways, he’s looking at serious time,” Mike continues. “We’re talking years, not months.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by something else. Something that feels suspiciously like hope.
With Mica out of the picture, maybe Trisha can finally breathe. Maybe we all can.
“Thanks, Mike. I owe you one.”