My gut twisted. It was a sentiment I shared. If anything had happened to her… Fuck that. I was not going down that road.
I glided a hand up the back of her neck and tilted her head to force her eyes to mine. “No one. And I mean no one will take you from me. Or me from you, okay? I swear on my life I’ll make us safe.”
Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Make us safe? It was just a break-in, right?”
“We’ll talk later,” I said, shifting her off my lap. “I need to get dressed.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked my back as I headed toward my bag to pull on jeans and a T-shirt over my boxer briefs.
I ignored her and said, “You need to get…” I stopped when I glanced back and saw her standing there in what could only be described as a church dress. White. Floral. Hideous. “That is a seriously ugly-ass dress.” A smile tipped one side of my lips.
She glowered. “I was naked and hiding in my closet from a gun-wielding burglar while my husband took off after him. I pulled on the first thing my hand landed on.”
My smile grew as I arched an eyebrow and asked, “Your husband?”
“Don’t you dare try to change the subject. What aren’t you telling me?” she snapped.
“Later,” I said, tugging the tee over my head.
“Roman!”
I leveled her with a glare. “I don’t have the energy to deal with your attitude right now. The cops are crawling all over the downstairs, and they’re gonna be making their way up here soon. We can talk later because, right now, I need to get my wife down there so they can take her statement while I make some phone calls and get our shit sorted for the next couple of weeks.”
“Couple of weeks?” she questioned incredulously while crossing her arms over her chest.
Fuck, she was cute.
Cute was yet another thing I did not have time to deal with at the moment.
I didn’t say a word as I walked over, took her hand, and dragged her to the door.
She quickly gave up with her argument when we got into the hall and she took in the broken mirrors. “Oh God,” she gasped, covering her mouth with a hand.
Looping an arm around her waist, I took some of her weight and led her down.
Just as we got to the base, I saw an irate Detective Rorke standing close to a completely unfazed Heath Light.
“And you just happened to be passing by the Leblancs’ house tonight when you heard gunshots,” Rorke accused.
“Yep,” Heath replied curtly.
“Seems awful convenient, Light.”
“Sure does, considering no one ended up dead.” He lifted his head when he saw us come down. His eyes landed on Elisabeth and stayed there as something eerie sifted across his features. “Excuse me,” he told Rorke, already on the move in our direction. He stopped in front of Elisabeth, his eyes so intently studying her face that it unnerved me.
She must have felt the same, because she lifted a hand to rest on my stomach and shifted deeper into my side. “Um, hi?”
“Agent Heath Light, DEA,” he said robotically.
“Elisabeth Keller.”
“Leblanc,” I corrected, then snapped my fingers at Light.
His gaze slowly cut to mine.
I stepped around Elisabeth and tucked her into my back. Lowering my voice, I said, “I need the number of your security guy again.”
He nodded, digging into his back pocket and pulling a card out while mumbling, “Finally, he does something smart.” He passed the card my way. “Shoot me a text when you get free of this shit, and I’ll forward you all of his info. He’s in Chicago, but drop my name and he should be able to get some guys down here tomorrow. Get someplace safe until then. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I agreed immediately.
Elisabeth’s hand tensed at my back, and I swung an arm back to pat her side.
It wasn’t much, but in that moment, I had nothing else to offer her.
It was a common trend in our relationship.
But it was one I was planning to break.
I could fix this.
I would fix this.
I will fix this.
I woke up the next morning feeling run down and achy. I’d cried myself sick over the last few days.
When Walt had finally gotten to me the day before, I’d collapsed onto the driveway as I’d watched Roman speed away.
Walt held me, making my skin crawl as I protectively wrapped myself around Tessa. Both of us sobbing.
She was scared, and I couldn’t blame her.
I was terrified, too.
Walt led us both inside and got us settled on the couch. Then he immediately retreated to his office. Over the next hour, a steady stream of his men came through the front gates, flooding in the back door, and going straight up to join him.
A man had come to help me. And I’d thrown him to the wolves.
And, as I sat on my couch the next day, Walt walking around in nothing more than a pair of slacks, not a trace of anger on his hideous face, I knew that that man was now dead.
I’d seen that picture Roman had thrust in my face. He had a wife, probably a child, and if his assumptions were correct and our embryos had been switched, it was my child. And I’d all but pulled the trigger myself.