The Bandit (The Stolen Duet #1)

He was focused on his phone, so I questioned if he heard him until he cleared his throat and said, “He had a virus called respiratory syncytial.”


“What?” It wasn’t the response I was expecting.

“I thought you might want to know what was making him sick.”

I glanced down at Caylen who didn’t look ill anymore. I was so happy to see him alive that I hadn’t noticed. “Oh, God. Why didn’t I see? The doctor… he warned me RSV was common. I should have known. I should have—” I stopped. Breaking apart wouldn’t cure my baby. “I need to get him help. My voice shuddered so I took a deep breath and begged for the sake of my son. “ I know your heart is cold, but you still have one—”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“It’s been taken care of…” I repeated slowly.

“The doctor said these things normally cure themselves, but for babies, it’s much more sensitive. He would have been at risk for lung failure.”

“Are there antibiotics…” He was already shaking his head.

“He kept him on a ventilator to make breathing easier, but within a few days, he was already getting better.” The door opened, and Z stepped through. Angel’s gaze never left us as he said, “Take him.”

“What? No!”

“I can’t let you be with him. The virus was contagious and until I’m sure you don’t have it—”

“But I’m not sick!”

“You could be.”

I shot up from the chair and backed away. Caylen sensed my distress and released a heart-piercing cry. “Please, Angel.”

“Mian.” His voice was surprisingly tender. “I am not doing this to hurt you. I am telling you to do what’s best for him.”

“He needs me.”

“Right now, he needs his health.” I shook my head and backed away until the wall stopped me. “Don’t make me take him from you by force.” He stepped forward to back up his claim.

Caylen’s face was completely red now. His cries grew, and my heart broke into little pieces when I realized I was the one doing this to him.

The rational part of me knew Angel was right. Viruses usually carried an incubation period before symptoms showed and the host became contagious. It was quite possible that I could be infected which meant, right now, the only person who was a threat to my son’s health was me.

My body relaxed with defeat and Z swooped in to take the baby. I wanted to kiss him goodbye. Instead, I watched him go. When the door closed, my legs gave out, but unfortunately, Angel was there to catch me.

As soon as his arms closed around me, I screamed and beat at his chest. He didn’t fight me or threaten. He simply held me tighter until all the fight I had drained out of me. My head unconsciously settled against his chest and my body sunk into his warmth.

I hurt enough to seek comfort from my enemy.

Did it make me broken?

“Look at me.” It was the last thing I wanted, so I ignored his command. “Look at me, Mian,” he demanded more forcefully.

I did. Reluctantly. Slowly.

My gaze first landed on his chin and his neatly trimmed scruff. Slowly, my gaze traveled up to thick lips. I wondered what his kiss tasted like, and the betrayal of my body was like a punch to the gut. His arms crushed me until I finally gave him what he wanted.

The cold in his brown gaze reflected the ice in his heart. “One way or another, I’m going to get what I want from you. So you can either give it to me…” He brushed his thumb down my cheek. “Or I can take it.”

A teardrop rested on the tip of his thumb. I grabbed his wrist and slowly slipped my lips over his thumb, taking my tear back. His next breath didn’t come, but I could feel his heart pounding harder in his chest.

“Promise?” My fearlessness was an illusion, but he didn’t need to know that. When I broke into hell, I thought I knew what would happen if I were caught. Angel proved me wrong at every turn.

“It’s already carved in your headstone.”





Chapter Twenty-Five


She’s still too young.

MIAN

Five Years Ago



My mother always told me there were two sides to every story, but I don’t think she knew her side would be buried with her. I had every reason to distrust Bea after what she did to my mother. But she also seemed genuinely distraught over the loss of my mother. What could it hurt to suspend judgment and get to know her for one afternoon?