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Then Mom stands up, folds her arms, and his grin goes on hiatus. “How did you find out she was pregnant, Eric?” Mom asks, using her detective-like tone when there’s a mystery in the house.
“Uh…”
“Eric,” Mom says firmly.
“I was reading Emma’s texts,” he says, dropping his head. “I know it’s wrong.”
“If youknow,” Mom snaps, “you shouldn’t have done it.”
Eric nods, that achingly guilty look on his face. I find it difficult to be mad at him. Every time I look at him, I see my future baby, maybe with the same emotion in their eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I feel terrible. Honest. Sometimes, I don’t think.”
“You just wait until your father gets home,” Mom says, her favorite phrase, but then she shakes her head slowly. She looks at me, all the happiness drained from her face. “I didn’t even think. Emma, we have to tell him.”
I swallow, my neck burning like acid is working its way through me, trying to make it impossible to speak. That’s more fantasy wordplay, yet another wannabe escape. I have to face the music. I have to do the right thing. “When will he be home?” I ask.
“After his meeting,” Eric says. “That’s what he told me.”
“Okay.” I nod and stand. “I’m… I’m going to call Logan. Let him know, just in case Dad wants to talk to him. I want him to be ready.”
I walk into the hallway and take out my phone.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Logan
As we walk into Michael’s office, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I wonder if it’s my woman, my Emma. My heart aches as if telling me to go be with her. She’s so close, but I have to handle this first.
“Uh… coffee, gentleman?” Michael says, addressing me and the two criminals. I walk slightly ahead of them. My senses are alert in case they try anything. Neither of them recognized me. If this were farther north, I’d be screwed.
“Sure, double espresso,” the big man says. He’s even taller than me, burly as an enforcer. He’s got a flat nose, wears a black tank, and is covered in tattoos. The other is older and leathery-faced. He wears a cowboy hat indoors and chews a toothpick like we’re supposed to be impressed.
I almost snap at Michael when he walks to the small coffee machine in the corner of his office. I know he’s nervous. When my guys arrived and we briefed him, his face paled, but offering these assholes coffee?
“Don’t worry about it,Michel,” I say. “He’s not thirsty.”
“I’m not?” Leon says, the big man. I can’t remember if he’s pretending to be Tony or Luigi. What a weak scam. Poor Michael. He’s had a good life. He had a tragedy in his youth but a loving family. It made him too soft. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good person.
I turn and look the big man in the eye. “No, Leon, you’re fucking not.”
He flinches and looks at the man in the cowboy hat. The office is full of sunlight. Martin’s eyes stare from under the slight shadow of his hat. “Now, ain’t that something. How’d you come by that name, sir?”
“It was relatively easy to acquire, Martin,” I tell him, and he flinches. I grin. “Michael could’ve gotten it himself if you lowlife fucks hadn’t bullied him. Threatened him. Made him believe you’re worth fearing.”
Leon steps forward. The burly idiot smashes one fist into the other. I feel my knuckles aching. Not from the frat house, that surreal night. From a fight on the ice. Some bastard tried to catch me, so he got caught. I almost want to tear into this motherfucker. Maybe I’d lose. I don’t care. He threatened my child’s grandfather, future father-in-law, and oldest friend, but I have a plan. I must get out of this without injury—for my woman, child, and team.
“Don’t play stupid games,” Leon says. “Big whoop. You got our names. It don’t change the fact I’ll beat you and your boy blue if you don’t cough up the cash.”
“I’d listen to him if I were you,” Martin says, chewing that toothpick like he’s in a movie. “If you think he’s impolite now, just wait until he gets angry.”
“You’ve fucked up, both of you,” I growl. “Michael told me what was happening. He told me two men came to him and claimed to be with the mob. The thing is, I’ve got connections in the mob. When I showed them the video, they weren’t pleased. Not pleased at all.”
Martin flinches and looks at Leon. Leon’s doing a worse job of hiding his panic. He knows that size doesn’t matter with the mob, but maybe I need to drive the point home.
“They’ll put a bomb on your car. They’ll kill you when you’re sleeping. You’ll never see it coming with them.”
“Bull. Shit.” Martin finally spits his toothpick out. His hands are shaking. He’s old and weary, and Leon looks bloated. Maybe he’s not as strong as he looks. Perhaps he’s just used to picking on innocent people. People who have never had to get bloody. “You’re a goddamn liar.”
“Hear that?” I say, smiling, strolling over to the desk. I do this casually, but I’m also aware they might lose their cool here. Maybe they think they can use one of us as a human shield. I stand near Michael, drumming my fingers on the desk. “The engine? Don’t you hear it?”
