Page 160 of Carnal Wagers

“What can I say? You’re such a WILF. I can’t bloody help myself.”

I chortled. “A what?”

“Wife I’d like to fuck.” He nuzzled my neck, his fingers splayed over my belly. “You should know I plan on making you my personal MILF. Would you like that? If we put a little O’Leary in here? Jaysus, the idea of you round with my babies does something to me.”

“Are you sure? What about…?” His serial killer stalker. Bringing a baby into the world with that kind of risk over our heads seemed like the surest way to invite tragedy.

He grunted against my throat, his breath sweltering hot against the cool weather. “We’re close to catching her. I can feel it. And soon, once she’s gone, I’ll work at making you the most sexually satisfied mother alive.”

“Not too soon. I’d like a little more time, just the two of us, before there is a baby in the mix.”

“I can live with that.” He kissed my shoulder once more, then released me. “Come.”

After both of us were dressed, he led me through the woods the same way we’d arrived. It was definitely more comfortable on foot than tied to him. The air was fresh compared to the big city, filling my lungs with all kinds of possibilities. The slow decay of autumn leaves within moist dirt added a sourness to the crisp smell of pine and the earthy dampness of moss. Squirrels skipped along upturned stones and scampered up the bark of trees, while sunlight streaked through bald spots in the canopy of vegetation and spotlit different corners of the woods, each one with a different focal color.

“This is a beautiful spot. It’s—”

Cillian pried up a last branch to reveal a lone table in the middle of the glade, surrounded by a half circle of trees, with the skydiving facility hangar looking minuscule far off to our right. The table was decked with a tablecloth, two full place settings, domed food covers over each plate, lit candlesticks, and flowers, hemmed in by two cushioned chairs. Next to it stood Paulie and Devin, costumed in black suit jackets and pants and white dress shirts. They both looked uncomfortable in the getup. Paulie cradled water bottles in one arm and carried a pack of glass beer bottles in the other. He had a scowl furrowed deep on his face as he scanned the area for threats. Devin managed the wine, but he held the bottle like he was ready to bash someone over the head with it, no more thrilled than his partner.

“You’re joking.” I chuckled.

“Meet our waitstaff.”

“They look positively tittered.”

“As long as you’re happy.” He held his hand out to me. “Join me for our belated engagement lunch.”

How could I refuse? I placed my hand in his, a wide smile tugging at my cheeks, ready to be pulled straight into the fairy tale.

Except something glinted over his shoulder, across the glade to the opposite side of the woodland semicircle. Cillian shifted closer as I resisted his gentle tug to follow, my feet firmly rooted in place. That flicker of light wasn’t natural. The branch he held shook back into place as he let it go, but another gleaming shimmer flashed in the exact same spot it had been before. My eyes widened in realization and horror. The hit. I’d completely forgotten.

“Ali—”

“Get down,” I yelled, loud enough for Paulie and Devin to hear, as I rammed Cillian sideways and we tripped and fell over the side of an exposed tree root.

An explosion of pain scorched along my back at the same time a delayed, sharp crack echoed in the glade. I cried out between clenched teeth, trying hard to swallow down the burning ache spasming along my shoulder blades. My vision fogged up, and I blinked away the tears, their flow against my cheeks almost soothing.

“Síbhean,” Cillian burst out, his hand patting me down. “Where does it hurt?”

“No time,” I gritted out.

Porcelain and glass smashed to bits as Paulie and Devin overturned our romantic lunch and ducked for cover as pops and bangs of gunfire shattered what remained of the woods’ serene appeal. Bullets snapped into the trees where we’d stood moments ago, splinters of bark hurtling onto us.

“We have to move. Stay down.” I slithered around him, the coppery scent of my blood offsetting the earthy smell of dirt and leaf litter.

Cillian slipped on his brass knuckles, which he’d apparently taken with him on the jump, just like his knife. “I’m not running away. My men are out there.”

I clamped a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down as he tried to sit up. He might have been bigger and stronger than me, but hyped up on adrenaline, about to watch the love of my life throw his life away, he was no match.

“No.”

“No?”

“You’re their target. You go out there, they’ll kill you. Paulie and Shiner have a chance, but not if you go out there.”

“You know this how?” The harsh snap of his voice cracked louder than the bullets. I could practically hear the grinding of his teeth.

Almost on cue, quiet spread. Only the chirp of crickets and the rustling creep of beetles along the ground broke it. The sudden silence felt wrong, like a lull before the storm struck. We needed to get out of there.