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“And if he dares to show his face around here, he needs to be prepared for me to kill him,” I mutter, staring off into the distance.
An aggravated sigh leaves my brother and I angle my head in his direction, our gazes locking. “What?”
“You’re being irrational with the murderous comments. You can’t kill him. I don’t care if you want to, you can’t.” Winston sits up straight, resting his arms on top of his desk. “I’ve had a few ugly—run-ins in the past. You’ve seen how well those worked out.”
“You left evidence,” I say, thinking of the triplets and how close he came to offing them. “Those fuckers should’ve died that night.”
“And then there would’ve been hell to pay. I’d end up in jail. Prison. I don’t care how excellent our lawyers are, or the lack of evidence the prosecution would’ve come up with, I probably would’ve gone down.” He levels his thunderous gaze upon me. “You’re more reckless than me and you know it. Marriage has not settled you down. If anything, it’s only fired you up.”
I should be insulted, but I’m not. I feel the same way. Thinking of anyone putting their hands on my wife sends rage blazing through my blood, and I’ve never been the type to get angry about anything. I guess that’s my BC era.
Before Charlotte.
“Charlotte says my rage is more about me than what happened to her,” I admit. When she said that to me, I immediately felt terrible.
Hasn’t stopped my anger though. Not a damn bit.
“She’s probably right,” Winston says.
Great. That doesn’t make me feel any better.
Clenching my hands into fists, I lightly bang them on the chair arms. “You can’t stop me if I find him and you’re not around.”
“You probably won’t find him.” Winston says it with so much finality I’m immediately filled with resentment. Makes me want to prove him wrong. “He’s a ghost. It’s as if he didn’t even exist. I’m guessing he went through some sort of identity transformation.”
“Like what, Witness Protection?”
“More like Morelli protection,” Winston says, making me roll my eyes. Fucking Morellis. “Ash mentioned something to me. Something that she observed.”
I frown at his quick subject change. “About what?”
“About Charlotte.”
Now it’s my turn to sit up straighter, hating the way my stomach churns at the serious expression on my brother’s face. “What did Ash say about my wife?”
“She chatted with Charlotte quite a bit on Thanksgiving. I like that they’re becoming closer.”
I wave a hand, indicating he needs to keep talking. “Go on.”
“I guess Charlotte told her that she hasn’t been feeling well. Extremely tired, despite getting plenty of rest. Loss of appetite. She even mentioned—throwing up a few times.” The pointed look he sends me is almost polarizing. As in, I feel pinned in place. “Ever consider your wife could be… pregnant?”
I blink at him, trying to digest the word.Pregnant?
Charlotte?
“No way…” I snap my lips shut, thinking of the few times we’ve had sex without protection.
Okay, the many times. I’m a careless asshole who can’t control himself around the woman he married. So sue me.
Meaning, it’s definitely possible.
“It’s none of my damn business, but do you wear a condom? She on some sort of birth control?” Winston asks.
“Yeah.” I nod, not wanting to admit that sometimes I get caught up in the moment and slip right inside of her welcoming body. There is nothing better than fucking my woman with nothing between us. Just skin on skin.
“It’s not always foolproof,” he says.
“No, it’s not.” I imagine her pregnant. Her belly swelling with my baby. Her face turning round, her cheeks rosy as she waddles all over the place, blaming me for her condition, but always good-naturedly. She would be a beautiful pregnant woman. I can envision it now…
