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My brain stutters at the thought, replaying my view from earlier. And the fucking idiot that I am, I contemplate dropping all this shit and going up to find her.
I could just check on her briefly…
Who am I kidding? I have no intention of checking on her, or it being briefly. Not with the way my blood is rushing through me to my dick at the mere thought of getting inside her.
My phone saves my resolve this time with its loud ringing.
“Yeah,” I answer, holding it to my ear with my shoulder while I head back to the bunker.
“I’m not going to be here for the weekend,” Ryan says. His voice is hard and sharp as though he were talking to someone he’s trying to shake off. He clears his throat as I’m about to ask what the fuck he’s on about. “It’s work.”
There’s a pause and then a cacophony of voices that thicken and then thin out to just one.
“Is everything okay?” Arabella asks. “You look worried.”
“We’re all good,” he tells her with a little more warmth.
“Ryan…”
“Yes, Mrs. Sinclair?”
“Ugh.” Her groan is exasperated, and if I wasn’t on edge about the message he’s trying to deliver, I would laugh. “Stop. Calling. Me. That. Do I look like Christopher’s mother to you?”
“No.”
“Then stop.” Her muted growl echoes down the phone. A sigh follows, and then she asks, “You’re sure everything really is okay? Or as well as it can be given the circumstances?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll let you get back to your call. It looks serious.” There’s another pause, and then she asks a little quieter, “Is that your…girlfriend?”
More silence.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
There’s a low chuckle from him before he says into the phone, “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll let you know when I’m back up in London. Okay?”
“Wait!” Arabella blurts. There seems to be a shuffle with the phone. And then she tells him, “You can invite her to come down to Heavers with us. It’s not like we’re going to need you for most of the weekend when we get there…”
Fuck, that’s what he wants me to know. They’re coming our way, and it doesn’t matter that we are a decent distance away from Heavers, it’s still too close.
I put the phone down and dump all the crap in the bunker before going back to the house. The rain is so fucking heavy that in the couple of minutes it takes me to close the shelter and brush the debris back over the hatch, I’m soaked through.
I dry myself off in the bathroom trying to ignore the fact I already knew—we have to leave. We’re out of time, and I have to get her out of here. As much as I don’t want to drag anyone else into this, I can’t make a move without backup.
Cameron.
Maybe Ryan is right—this has gone too far for me to handle everything on my own. Maybe an unhinged soldier is better than no soldier at all. And he is loyal. He lives for the mission…
Pulling some fresh, dry underwear on, I put my phone down on the bedside table and check that the Glock I keep there is ready. When I get into bed, I pull Fleur to me. She’s warm and I need to hold her, to be certain that she’s okay. Draw some semblance of peace from the fact that she’s here and she’s safe. As I smooth my hand over her belly, the feel of the taught skin and the movement of our child is enough to ground me. Even if just for the night.
Chapter 6
FLEUR
Being out of the house feels weird. A bit like when you have a wound and the scab finally falls off, but the skin underneath is still sensitive. Everything around me feels overwhelming. The noise. The chatter. The clacking of heels and the crunching of dirt beneath soles.
I’m hyperaware of everything around us as we walk from the car to the ultrasound clinic. I didn’t think Casper would actually follow through with it, and not this quickly either.
