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Two uniformed cops come out and freeze when they see us. When they see how pissed I look. Wrapping my arms around Andie, I glare over the top of her head at them.
“Next time ye have questions regarding me, ye talk to me. Not to my woman.”
The blood drains from their faces as they offer me matching stiff nods. Paddy smirks at them, and we all leave. I bundle Andie into the back of the SUV, climbing in with her.
“Where’s your car, lass?” I ask, buckling her into the middle seat so I can have her pressed against me, burying my face in her hair to calm myself down.
“At the clinic, a few blocks away. They picked me up from there. I came to get my shot….” Andie’s voice trails off.
I nod into her hair. Her birth control shot. She’s been muttering about getting another one for a week now. Something about making sure she gets within twelve weeks, so it’s effective.
I told her to put whatever the charge was on my bank card. After all, it’s for the benefit of both of us, and I’m not exactly offering her insurance.
Holding Andie anchored against me, I pull out my phone, texting Seamus that I have Andie and we’re heading home now.
ANDIE
I didn’t tell Connor I didn’t get the shot. Or why I didn’t get it. Not when Paddy was in the car with us. When we slide into my car, and Connor drives us home, I don’t tell him either.
I’m not sure how to broach the subject. What if he thinks I lied to him about having a shot in the first place? What if he thinks I got pregnant on purpose to trap him in marrying me? What if he doesn’t want kids and asks me to get an abortion?
No, I need to figure out the best time to tell him. And springing it on him when he’s pissed that the cops picked me up and interrogated me isnotthe right time.
Once we are home and inside, Connor picks me up by the waist and deposits me on the countertop in the kitchen, kissing me thoroughly. I return his kisses eagerly. When I tell him my news, he will be done with me. I need to take this and savor it while I can get it.
He shoves up my skirt, unbuttons his trousers, and thrusts into me. Oh well, I’m already pregnant. I suppose it doesn’t matter that I didn’t get my shot today.
“I’m sorry they took ye in for questioning,leannán,” Connor murmurs into my hair, rocking slowly in and out of me until I’m panting and squirming.
“It doesn’t matter,” I gasp, tipping my head back as his lips slide over my neck. I shatter, and he picks up the pace, hammering into me until he comes with a groan, his lips pressed against my pulse point on my neck.
“Is breá liom tú,achuislemochroí,” he mutters, withdrawing, buttoning his trousers back up and lifting me off the countertop. Setting me on my feet, he tugs me into a tight hug.
“Let’s order pizza and watch movies.”
He sounds boyishly excited at the idea, which has me snickering. Crossing to the fridge, Connor pulls out two beers. No alcohol. I wave him off, shaking my head, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Not for me, thanks.”
Connor shrugs, replacing one. Crossing to me, he takes my hand, leading me to the den near our bedroom. Shedding his suit jacket and tie, he lounges on the leather sofa, tugging me down into his lap and flipping through the channels until he finds some high school sports drama.
Snuggling against him, I stare at the screen, not paying any attention to the movie we’re watching. I wish this moment could last forever and that reality would never intrude. I know it’s impossible, but it’s a nice dream.
Chapter TWENTY
ANDIE
It’s been two weeks, and I still haven’t told Connor I’m pregnant. Thank god I haven’t been sick or anything. Otherwise, it might have given my secret away.
He’s at the club tonight, as he is most nights. I have cleaned up after dinner and am about to head up to have a lovely long shower, wash my hair, and curl up on the sofa in the den watching some reality TV when the front door creaks open.
That door was locked. No car came up the drive. Connor and I rarely use the front door. We mainly come in through the kitchen. Before I can think of grabbing a knife or something, there’s a crash from the living room. The antique-filled living room.
Shit. It sounds like someone has toppled the lovely little upright piano. I tiptoe over, peeking my head around the door to see through the living room and freeze at the sight of men in ski masks, some of whom are heavily accented.
I try to move away to see if I can sneak out the back door and make it to the cottage, where Connor always has one guy working on the online gambling operations, but they spot my freaking pink sweater. Why the hell am I wearingpink?
“Hey!” One of them yells. I think about making a run for it, but what if they shoot or tackle me? I need to protect our baby. Connor’s baby. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
