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Traffic is backed up, and the rain isn’t helping. I call the house phone, and when Ana doesn’t answer, I’m perplexed. But she might be taking a nap, or a bath.
Yeah, she could use one of those lavender baths with oils that make her body shine. And her cunt slick for me. I can’t push sex with her, though.
Not when she’s so close to her due date and maybe sees Cormac when she looks at me.
Fucking Cormac. I never thought he’d show up at my house. Never thought he’d attack a woman, much less one I clearly have feelings for. One I’m in love with. I have to think differently. He and I played by the rules since leaving Astoria.
Well, mostly.
Now the gloves are off. He’s forcing me to think like our older brothers.
Once the baby is born, there will be a reckoning. I need to convince Ana’s father that I did this. Not Cormac. That she’s been with me the whole time. Convince Ana to tell her father we’re in love.
Fuck, I’m already there. I want her to feel it, too.
We can be a family. I can give her whatever she wants. If she wants a cosmopolitan life of fancy restaurants, exotic vacations, and galas, the kind of life a Bratva princess was promised, I can give her that.
Even if it’s everything I despise. I’ll do it for her.
I get to the house, and seeing it’s dark knocks me out of my thoughts.
“Hi!” Past the door in the garage, I call out for her and wait to hear her voice say something back to me, or for her soft feet to shuffle toward me.
Only silence greets me, and I know something is wrong.
I’m shouting her name as I take the stairs three at a time, my worry intensifying. I don’t hide the desperation in my tone since I don’t have to stay calm for Sophie.
For a split second, when I open the door to Ana’s room, her scent hits me, and I relax.
But she’s not here.
Lucy may have invited her to have tea while the girls have their play date. I yank my phone out, and swallowing my embarrassment, I call my seven-year-old daughter’s phone. It’s supposed to be for emergencies. For her to call me.
I feel like shit for not getting Ana a phone sooner, but these three weeks have flown by.
“Hello,” a man’s voice answers, and rage blurs my vision.
“Who the fuck is this?” I bark.
“Hee, hee. The guy who stole your pregnant wife’s phone, asshole.” The line goes dead.
I spin around, putting the pieces together. Ana isn’t in the house. She left and took Sophie’s phone.
But some man has it.
I call it again, but whoever the fuck that was doesn’t pick up this time.
Someone has my Ana.
My world goes tunnel vision and right now, it smacks me like a baseball bat to the jaw: I need my brothers. I can’t do this by myself.
When my phone rings again, and I see it’s the hospital, I scream into the silence, “Fuck! Can I just have a moment’s peace?”
I ignore it, and go to call Eoghan, when the hospital rings again.
Keeping my lunch down, I take the call because I have a duty.
“Dr. O’Rourke. Look, I’m—” I’m ready to tell them I’m in the middle of a personal emergency, but the hospital operator speaks over me.
