Page 101 of One Secret

'You'd be surprised how interconnected the tongue and knee-caps can be.' I lift the weapon and aim it accordingly.

My act is satisfactory enough to have her looking fearful.

'Cyrus don't—'

'What do you expect me to do, Darcy?' I yell. 'This entire island is a death trap waiting to spring. If I can't trust you then—'

'I'm pregnant.'

I freeze.

My jaw drops. My fingers go numb.

'What?'

'I'm pregnant,' she repeats.

My tongue sticks dryly to the roof of my mouth.

Not possible.

'You're lying,' I accuse on instinct.

She flinches.

'Why would I lie?'

I wave the gun where it still hangs at the end of my lifeless arm.

'To save your skin. I'd never shoot if you were—'

'I am, Cyrus.' That citrine gaze of hers is boring into me. No pretense, no lie. 'I'm nearly eight weeks along.'

'But we were always—'

'Yes, we were,' she says. 'Apparently, my future kid laughs in the face of our precautions.'

My arm finally gives out and falls to my side. Some of the tension leaves Darcy's shoulders.

'When did you...' I can't finish the sentence. I can't seem to finish a thought. My brain is just a tangle of loose wires, connections broken and trailing ends dangling.

'Find out?' Darcy finishes for me. 'About four weeks after your last visit. I'm fairly regular.'

'And it's definitely—' The glare on her face has me nipping that question in the bud.

"Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

Darcy already said she hasn't slept with anyone since we met.

And you believe her? snarls that malicious little voice of experience. Do you even believe she's pregnant? Isn't she just saving her own skin? Where's your proof? What if this is a con so that she can escape?

She had that chance. She didn't run.

Maybe she doesn't have what she needs?

But what would she need? Me in knots? My head in a tangled mess? My sense of reason all shot to hell before I got to meet Caruso?

I feel sick.

---