[truyện Tiếng Anh] The Next Sin

The Next Sin
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This is shattering Sin. And it’s breaking my heart to watch.

Isobel told me there would be times like this. She said Sin would lose his way and he’d need me to act as his light in the darkness. So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll be whatever my husband needs.

“I love you.” I swaddle Sin with my body and kiss his forehead. I melt against him, becoming a tangible form of comfort wrapping around him in the darkness. “Let’s just lie like this and forget the world for as long as it’ll allow us.”

And that’s what we do. Lie silently until sleep claims us both.

* * *

It’s been a week since Sin killed Grieve’s son. They’ve not yet retaliated. But we know it’s coming and we’re prepared.

Sin’s coping. It was rough for a few days but I see him slowly returning to himself. I’m doing my job as his supporter. I occasionally catch him preoccupied and assume he’s replaying that night’s events in his head. I act quickly to distract him each time I think he could be recalling that night.

Today’s a good day for Sin. I’m glad because we have an important appointment.

We’re traveling to the Assisted Reproduction Centre in London for our first consultation. We fly over this afternoon and will see Dr. Paschall first thing in the morning.

I’m nervous, but not about the things we’ll hear from the physician. I’ve heard it all before. However, hearing the proof of my poor fertility prognosis from a top fertility specialist will be new for Sin. I’m afraid of his reaction.

I fear this hasn’t been real in his mind or perhaps he’s been thinking if he paid the right doctor enough money, I could be fixed. Once it has been confirmed that there’s a very real problem, one that is likely irreparable, it could all come crashing down. For both of us.

I’m packing when Sin comes into our bedroom. He prowls up behind me and snakes his arms around my waist, pressing his lips to the side of my neck. “Hello, Mrs. Breckenridge.”

“Hello, Mr. Breckenridge. I was just about to choose your clothes for our trip since you’ve not yet done it. Would you like a suit, a suit, or … a suit?”

“Ahh. My wife, the comedian.”

I twist in his arms. “That’s all you ever wear.”

“Because I have an image to maintain. How authoritative do you think I’d appear wearing jeans and sneakers?”

I suppose it might be difficult for the brothers to see him as a leader in casual wear. “I see your point, but it’s a little weird to never see you in anything else. You should have a little variety in your wardrobe.”

“You forget I don’t wear a suit to bed.”

True. I adore the low-riding sleep pants, even if they don’t typically stay on for long. “Don’t get me wrong. I love seeing you in your fancy suits. You look sexy and powerful but it would be nice if you occasionally wore something different. Don’t you think you’d get tired of seeing me in a dress every day?”

“Never.” He slides his hand between my legs. “A dress would make for easy access to this at all times. I think I’d like it very much.”

I roll my eyes and shove his hand away. “No time for that, I’m afraid. We have to leave for the airport soon and there’s still packing to finish.”

“Bring some sexies.” He puts his mouth to my ear and growls. “And prepare to be had often while we’re away.”

* * *

The consultation with Dr. Paschall begins as expected—with discussing my medical history, followed by an ultrasound for a current assessment of all my girly parts. Nice and pleasant as always.

We’re waiting in his office to hear his opinion on how to proceed in pursuing the family we both agree we’ll want someday. I can’t stop looking at the photo on the wall to my right. The use of bokeh initially caught my attention. Now I’m staring at the subject. A beautiful little brown-eyed boy in a blue and cream sweater with matching beanie.

“No matter the verdict, I love you.” Sin steals my attention when he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “We’ll get through it even if the news isn’t promising. I need you to know that before we find out.”

I’ve been concerned about the place his head would be, but now I’m not. “I believe you.”

“Harry couldn’t have loved you more if you’d been his biological child. I’m certain that’s how we’ll feel if that’s the way the cards fall.”

“I know. I could easily love and adore an adopted child. That wouldn’t be an issue for me.”

That’s as far as our adoption discussion gets before Dr. Paschall comes into the office. He wastes no time in getting down to business, beginning with a report on the condition of my remaining ovary.

He retrieves the ultrasound picture and moves his pen over an area on the screen. I already know what I’m looking at; this isn’t my first rodeo. “The lining of your uterus looks good so I don’t foresee any implantation problems.”

He skips to another view and moves the pen over an area of white with dark polka dots. It resembles a grainy, black-and-white photo of a piece of Honeycomb cereal. “Your ovary is enlarged and these dark areas are fluid-filled cysts.”

Even I can tell they’re larger and more numerous than my last scan. That means the disease process is worsening. Not great.

“Have you been experiencing pain in your right lower abdomen?”

 

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Every day. “Yes, but it’s minor compared to what I had with my left ovary several years ago.”

No way I’ll ever forget that kind of pain. It was so horrible that I begged my doctor to remove the thing without any hesitation or concern for my fertility.

Sin asked why I hadn’t mentioned the pain to him. I proposed several vague reasons but I wasn’t being honest. The truth is I didn’t want to acknowledge the pain. To do so was to admit that the cysts were growing, bringing me another step closer to losing my ovary. And fertility. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening.

“Are the cysts bad enough to warrant removing my ovary?”

“Not yet, but you’ve had significant change since your last scan. I can’t say how long that’ll be the case.” Relief and fear simultaneously course through me.

“You’ve not been actively trying to conceive so let’s talk about what we know.” He laces his fingers and props them on his desk. “A pregnancy hasn’t spontaneously occurred despite several months of intercourse without contraceptive. Because we know your history, I’d assume it didn’t happen because you aren’t ovulating. I’ll want to run a panel to be sure. Once we confirm that, we could try Clomid for a while to see if we can get you ovulating, but I don’t predict that being successful considering the size of your cysts. It’s a gamble—and potentially a costly one—since we’re not sure how long this ovary will last. I’d rather not leave this to chance in case history decides to repeat itself.”

This remaining ovary feels like a time bomb that could detonate at any moment. I hate that feeling.

“I’m recommending we induce ovulation as soon as possible. We should do another egg retrieval with fertilization and proceed with a fresh embryo transfer via IVF. Any embryos not used should be cryopreserved.”

What?

“Why are you recommending we push forward with the IVF now?” I ask.

“Let’s say we do the retrieval and get six quality embryos. You freeze and bank all of them. You decide in three years you’re ready to do the transfer but two are badly degraded by the freezing process. That leaves you four possibilities—two attempts if you use two of the embryos on each IVF. Worst-case scenario, neither yield a successful pregnancy and you lose your ovary in the meantime. At that point, your only options are your banked frozen eggs from two years ago, which yield an even lower success rate than embryos. Should those prove unviable, you’re down to using donor eggs fertilized with your husband’s semen.”

I don’t want to even begin to try to sort out the emotions stirring as I consider that last possibility.

“The upside to proceeding with the IVF now is figuring out if you need to have a repeat egg retrieval before the opportunity is no longer there.”

Dr. Paschall isn’t saying it but he must think I’ll lose my ovary soon. That’s the only reason he’d push for this. “If we don’t move forward, we’re putting all of my eggs in one basket and hoping it doesn’t get dropped.”

“Yes. Quite literally.” Dr. Paschall peers up at the sonogram picture and then back to me. “If having children of your own is important to you, I wouldn’t recommend waiting.”

“If we decide to do it, how soon are we talking?” Sin asks.

“Your wife will require stimulated IVF. It’s a two-week cycle from the time you begin medications until the egg collection. Once the eggs are fertilized, we will choose the best two after three days and the transfer will happen at that time.”

A tiny little ball of life will be placed inside me seventeen days after the start of the medication. No. Make that two microscopic little beings. That’s unbelievable. And completely nuts.

“Go ahead and make the appointment. Take the next week or so to think it over and make a decision. You can always call back and cancel if you decide you don’t want to go through with it.”

As we leave the clinic, my emotions are all over the place. I’m thrilled all hope isn’t lost but I thought we’d have more time. I have tasks to do first—important things a baby will hinder.

Sin gives my hand a squeeze. “Hello? Earth to Bleu.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“I said we should talk. About this. How about over lunch?”

I’m not sure I can handle a big meal. “What about a coffee and pastry instead?”

I’d love to have one of Starbucks’ new chestnut praline lattes but we settle for the first café we come upon. We choose a lonely table near the back in hopes of privacy for this conversation I think neither of us wants to have.

I sip my caramel latte. When it burns my tongue, I set it aside to cool.

“Not good?”

“I can’t be sure. I think it may have scorched my taste buds.”

“How’s your pumpkin bread?”

I nod. “Good.”

“I’m not sure how you’d know. It looks like all you’ve done is pick at it.”

I don’t know. I can’t recall tasting the few bites I’ve taken. I’m too preoccupied. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I’m not sure how to put my feelings into words when I’m incapable of sorting out what’s happening in my head. And heart. “The consult didn’t go as I expected.”

 

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“Agreed.”

Good. At least we’re on the same page.

“I’m thrilled we weren’t told a pregnancy was a hopeless cause.” Now here comes the part where I must choose my words carefully. “But I’m terrified of doing this so soon. We’ve only been married six weeks.”

“I feel the same. I’m very happy Dr. Paschall believes we have a chance but I wasn’t expecting him to advise us to proceed so quickly. I thought we’d do the retrieval now and implant in a year or two.”

He looks as uncertain as I feel. I see it in the lines of his forehead, in the way his lips turn down at the corners.

“We aren’t ready to do this, are we?” I ask.

“No.” He releases my hand and sits back in his seat. “But are we prepared to let what might be our only chance at having a child slip through our fingers because it’s sooner than we’d like?”

The timing is horrible. “Unfortunately, we aren’t blessed with the luxury of waiting until we’re ready. It seems it’s now or possibly never.”

It feels as though my life revolves around an inconvenient schedule due to circumstances out of my control. It’s disheartening.

“I need time to think about this. I can’t decide today.” And probably not tomorrow, or even the next day.

“I say we enjoy our day together and talk about it after we’ve had time to adjust to the idea.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter Twelve

Sinclair Breckenridge

Bleu’s never been to London. In fact, she’s pretty much never been anywhere so I thought she’d be excited to see the sights. Although her camera is hanging around her neck, she hasn’t taken a single picture. She’s too absorbed by what I can only assume is an internal battle—probably the same one I’m struggling with. I know because she’s paying far more attention to the infants and children we pass than any of the iconic places we’re visiting.

We browse the gift shop at The Tower of London after finishing our tour. We make the circle and end up in the children’s section. She picks up a royal guardsman teddy bear from the shelf. “He’s cute.”

I disagree.

I’m Scottish, so for me, it’s a symbol of oppression. Our conflicts with England are centuries’ old and still run deep. I’ll never be a fan of anything representing the English. I avoid this place. I wouldn’t be here now if the Assisted Reproduction Centre didn’t have the highest successful pregnancy rates in IVF.

Bleu wasn’t reared here. She doesn’t understand how many Scots feel toward our southern neighbors. But she’ll come to know since she’s going to spend the rest of her life in Scotland.

She studies the toy another moment before returning it to the shelf. She almost looks regretful about it. “Do you want the bear?”

“No.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’ll buy you any Scottish bear you want, but not an English one.”

“You look angry.”

“No worries. It’s nothing to do with you.”

I attempt to distract Bleu—and myself—with sightseeing. It’s a long day by the time we return to the hotel. My leg feels the miles by the time we return so once we’re back in our suite, I remove my prosthesis. “Fuck, I’m sore from all the walking we did today.”

“You should’ve told me. We didn’t have to stay out all day.”

It wasn’t a problem earlier. In fact, I didn’t notice the discomfort until an hour ago. “It was fine all day. The walk back was when it started giving me trouble.”

I pushed myself too far in an attempt to keep Bleu’s mind off the baby stuff. And mine. Mission not accomplished.

She plops on the floor in front of me and reaches for my leg. “Here. I’m going to rub it for you.”

I don’t want her doing that. “No.”

“If my feet hurt, you’d rub them for me. In fact, you’ve done it for me before—more than once if I recall correctly.”

“Aye, but this is different.”

“You have pain in your lower extremity and I want to make it better for you. It’s no different than what you do for me.”

But it is. She just can’t see that. “It’s my stump. Not my foot.”

“True. It’s not your foot because you only have one and it’s on your other leg. Stop being stupid and let me massage it for you.”

She’s determined to make me feel better as she rubs her hands over the end of my amputated leg. “Better?”

I don’t want to hurt her but she needs to understand why I don’t want her doing this and why it’s different from rubbing feet. “Muscle is what’s massaged. That’s why it feels good. My stump is mostly skin-covered bone and there’s not a lot of sensation. It’s not a pleasant feeling. That’s why it’s not the same thing.”

She stops and looks up at me. “Okay. But I still want to make you feel better.”

She moves to her knees and glides her hands up my thighs. “What about this? Better?”

I like the place this is going. “Not quite there but it’s a definite improvement.”

She stretches to place her lips against mine and sucks my bottom lip into her mouth. “I’m going to make you feel so damn good.”

She moves her mouth down the side of my neck. “You’re definitely moving in the right direction.”

 

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“Getting warmer, huh?”

“Aye.”

She loosens the knot of my tie and lifts it over my head. She pulls the bottom of my shirt from my pants and begins unbuttoning it, starting at the top. When it’s open, I sit up and she pushes it from my shoulders before tossing it over the arm of the sofa.

She places her palms on my chest and pushes me so my back is pressed against the sofa. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

“Whatever you say.”

She kisses the center of my chest while tracing the tips of her thumbs around my nipples. They harden and she pinches them, sending a tingle straight to my cock. Or maybe her mouth moving down my stomach is the culprit.

Bleu reaches the waistband of my trousers and tugs the button open before lowering the zipper. Her hand reaches inside and frees me. She looks up at me and licks her lips. “Am I getting warmer?”

“Definitely.”

She lowers her mouth and presses her tongue just above my balls, dragging it in a slow, upward motion along my length. She reaches the head and sucks it into her mouth, swirling her tongue back and forth across the tip while holding the base.

She looks up and we make eye contact. “Still just warm?”

“No.” I suck air through clenched teeth. “You’re on-fucking-fire.”

She smiles before taking me back into her mouth in what I’m predicting will be the best blow job ever.

I lace my fingers through her hair as her head bobs up and down over my cock. Her hand cups my scrotum and she gently rolls my balls. This kind of massaging, I can stand. She can do it any time she wants. “Mmm … you’re making me feel so damn good, just like you said you would.”

I’m going to come very soon. I’m not sure how Bleu prefers that to happen. But I know how I feel about it. She’s my wife, not one of my previous conquests. I don’t plan to treat her as such. “Bonny. I’m about to come. I don’t want to do it in your mouth.”

Her head lifts but she’s still close enough I feel her warm breath on my dick when she speaks. “It’s okay.”

No. It’s really not.

I’ve done it plenty of times and it was always with one thing in mind—to convey to the woman I was with that she was nothing more than an object I was using for my own gratification. I don’t want that for my Bonny Bleu.

I caress my hand over her hair. “Stop, baby.”

She does as I ask and looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing in the world.”

I tug on her hands—willing her to stand—and she follows my cue. I unfasten the bottom button of her shirt and work my way up. She’s wearing a pink-and-white-striped bra, trimmed in black lace. Something about it reminds me of Paris. “Ooh la la.”

She trails two fingers down her breastbone between her tits. “Do you like it?”

“Aye. So well I think you should keep it on a while longer. I like the way you’re all stacked up there.”

When I’m finished, her shirt joins mine on the couch and I go to work on her trousers. Her shoes are already off so she kicks out of her pants.

She’s wearing matching knickers. No surprise there. My lass always wears paired sexies for me.

I grasp her arse cheeks in my hands and pull her forward, pressing my nose against the satiny triangle barely covering her. I inhale deeply. “You smell like the best kind of aphrodisiac. I can never get enough.”

I slip my finger into her elastic waistband and pull back, dipping my nose inside. “I like these knickers very much but I’d prefer seeing them on the floor.”

She pushes her fingers through my hair. “I think you’ve mastered all the ways to make that happen.”

“I’m sure there’s always room for improvement.”

I glide my hands over the arse of her knickers and hook my fingers over the back waistband. I scrunch them in my fisted hands and drag them down her legs. She steps out and I crumple them against my nose. I breathe in Bleu’s aroma. “I could very well develop a panty fetish because of your scent, my dear Mrs. Breckenridge. It’s divine.”

“Then I’d have to call you a weirdo. Or sex fiend. That’s probably more appropriate.”

“I assure you I’ve been called much worse.”

I grasp her behind her knee and place her foot on the sofa so I have better access to what I want. She grasps my shoulders for balance as she stands on a single foot.

My hand palm side up, I slip it between her legs. I push my fingers through her slit and bring them forward, barely grazing her sensitive nub. I do it again, softly and slowly. Deliberate. I want her to yearn for more. “Do you like it when I do that?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I stroke her again. “Then you’d like more of this?”

“You know I do.”

“How badly do you want it?”

“Desperately.”

“Then ask me for it.”

“Touch me.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what you want. A simple touch will never make you come. Tell me what it is you really want.”

“Stroke me.” She takes one of her hands from my shoulder and places on top of mine. She rocks her hips back and forth. “Right here.”

“Stroke here until you what?”

“Until I come.”

I move my fingers back and forth. “Like this?”

“Mmm … hmm.”

 

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She’s holding my hand with hers, moving her hips against my fingers. Faster and harder. It isn’t long before I’m seeing the cues she’s close to climax. “I want to be inside you when you come.”

I grasp the back of her leg, the one she’s still standing on. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

I pull her so her legs are straddling me. I guide my rock-hard cock to her entrance. She sinks over me until I’m deep inside. “Ohh,” she gasps.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and begins moving with me. I move my fingers to that sensitive spot above our union and continue stroking her sensitive zone. “This is where I want to come. Inside you—here.” Never in her mouth like the others. Never in the mouth she’ll use to kiss our children.

“It’s starting,” she says while slowing to ride me with more deliberate motion. And she’s right. The muscular contractions squeeze tightly around my cock. It’s all I need to start the onset of my own climax.

“I feel it.” I grasp her hips tightly, digging my fingertips into her flesh. I pull her down hard and plunge deep, meeting her thrust for thrust.

“Ohh … ohh,” she groans. It’s her patented noise every time she comes. It’s a glorious sound to hear. It means I’ve given my wife another orgasm. I’m still the only man who’s ever done that for her.

It’s a carefully orchestrated act to bring together. And worth every bit of effort. There’s nothing else like it in this world.

When we’re both satiated, she relaxes against me, resting her cheek against my shoulder. I’m still inside her. I want to keep it that way so I put my arms around her waist to hold her in place.

I thought making love might take her mind off the baby stuff but I don’t think it has. “You’re still there.”

She pulls away to look at my face. “I’m still where?”

“That place your mind went after we left the fertility clinic this morning.”

“I’m sorry.” I’m happy she isn’t pretending she doesn’t know what I mean.

“It’s okay. I’m in the same place.” And I want to be there together.

“It scares me.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.” She presses her forehead to mine. “I’m terrified it won’t work. I’m petrified it will.”

I rub my hands up and down her back. “I think all first-time parents have these kinds of fears.”

“But mine are different. They consist of more than how I’ll care for a baby.”

I want to know and understand the things causing her angst. “Tell me about it.”

She sighs long and hard. “I’ve always thought of my future family as the end result—my reward to myself for avenging my mother’s death and putting all the darkness behind me. I never once considered taking a husband or having a child before the deed was done.”

“I see.” Things are happening out of order and she’s having a hard time dealing with how reality differs from the plan in her head.

“I thought I’d be healed—and normal—before I married and had a baby. How can I become someone’s mother when I’m still like this?”

“You’ll need to choose which is more important—your obsession with your mother’s killer or taking the only chance we may get at having our own children.”

“I want both.”

It’s impossible to have both right now. “Revenge will wait. Our family won’t.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that we’d be making the decision to do the IVF for the wrong reason?”

Bleu having our baby should never be called wrong. “The timing may be questionable, but never the reason.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m saying all the wrong things.”

It’s okay. I understand what she means. “We didn’t get the news we were anticipating. We thought we’d have plenty of time. Turns out we may not. No one can predict the future, not even these specialists. What I do know is that our baby will be wanted and loved like no other. In the end, isn’t that what matters most?”

“I feel like the most important events of my life have happened to suit a time frame that wasn’t my own. Infiltrating The Fellowship. Marrying you. Now, bringing a baby into the world sooner than I’d like because my ovary may not hold out.”

“And it’s worked out for the best every time.”

“Yes. But I’d like to do something without feeling cornered.”

Being pushed before she’s ready is the last thing I want her to feel. “We don’t have to make a decision today, nor should we. We need time to sort out our feelings and what proceeding means for our lives and marriage.”

“How long do we give it?”

Dr. Paschall said we shouldn’t wait long. “Let’s take the week to think it over and we’ll make our final decision after the wedding reception.” I think we need that off our plates when we return to this conversation again. “Agree?”

“Agreed.”

Seven days until Bleu and I make a decision that will ultimately change our lives forever. Choose wrong and we could spend the rest of our lives in regret.

Please. Let us not make the wrong decision.

Chapter Thirteen

Bleu Breckenridge

As agreed, I’ve taken this week to sort out my feelings about the IVF. There’s only one emotion not in question: I’m no less terrified than I was the day we left the clinic.

 

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I wish I had one close friend or family member I could meet for coffee so I could pour my heart out. Sin’s the only one I can do that with and that makes for a problem.

I’ve never been a person who opens my heart to others about my personal issues. I’m content bottling my feelings but this situation is different. I have an intense need to talk to someone besides my husband. I need a woman’s opinion.

My friendships with Lorna and Westlyn are growing but neither is in a place where I feel comfortable talking about having a baby. And as much as I adore Isobel, this isn’t something I can discuss with her. I’m certain she’ll be in favor of a grandchild and an heir for The Fellowship.

It’s clear. I need my sister. But she’s more than four thousand miles away, so a phone call will have to do.

“Hello, bonny lass,” she says with the worst Scottish accent I’ve ever heard.

“That was horrible.”

“No way, dude. I’ve been practicing every day.”

We’re southern and have been our whole lives. It’s not something you can easily tone down. “I live among these people and hear it every day. Trust me when I say your execution sucks.”

“Then maybe I should come for a visit so I can improve. And check out some Scottie hotties.”

Not happening. She can never step foot in Edinburgh. But I can’t very well tell her that. “Sure thing. Come and we’ll do one of those tours across Scotland. There’s a whole lot I’ve still not seen. The Highlands. Loch Ness. A bazillion castles and villages. We can check it out together since Sin doesn’t give a rat’s ass about going with me.”

“I’ll take a look at the vacation requests at work to see what I can pull off.”

I think I can manage a visit as long as it’s not in Edinburgh. “You need to come during the summer when there’s plenty of sun. Winter is cold and dark. And sort of depressing.”

“I’m sure Sinclair’s keeping you warm, though, right? How is that new husband of yours?”

“Busy, as always.”

“He’s a newbie. I’m sure they have to earn their places within the firm. Isn’t that how it works?”

No. Not when they’re born into the role of top dog. But I can’t tell her that. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“How are you adjusting to Scotland? To married life? To everything?”

To my new residence? Fine.

To being a wife? Extraordinarily well.

To being the wife a leader of The Fellowship? As good as one could hope, considering.

To the prospect of becoming a mother soon? I have no idea.

“I think I’m handling it well …”

“But …?”

She knows me so well. “Sin and I saw a fertility specialist last week—a really good one. We got some news I wasn’t quite prepared to hear.”

“I’m so sorry, Bleu. I know how much you want to have babies.”

She’s assuming the news was bad. “No, Elli. It’s not what you’re thinking. My doctor says my ovary is in bad shape but my uterus looks good. He thinks I can become pregnant. He’s recommending we do another retrieval, this time with an embryo transfer.”

“Bleu! That’s wonderful!”

Did she hear the second part? “The embryo transfer means getting pregnant now instead of later.”

“I’m not confused about what that means. However, I’m a little puzzled about your lack of enthusiasm.”

“It’s not that I’m not happy. I am. It’s just so soon. We’ve only been married seven weeks.”

“Tell me why your doctor is recommending you do the transfer now.”

I relate what Dr. Paschall explained to us as worst-case scenario. It sounds so dire when I put it in my own words.

“This is what I’m hearing, Bleu. You have a husband who adores you. He wants babies with you so much that he’s paying God only knows how much for you to see one of the best fertility doctors in the world. This highly trained specialist’s job is to give you the best advice for how to conceive. He’s recommending you try now for the best results, instead of waiting. Did I get it all right?”

“Yes.”

It sounds so simple when I hear Ellison’s version. I look foolish for not jumping at the opportunity. Except I know the real reason behind my hesitation. My sister doesn’t.

“Then I’m failing to see the problem.”

It’s not her fault she can’t see my issues. I’m not giving her the whole story. It wasn’t fair of me to expect good advice when I can’t even be honest about why the timing is wrong for me.

“I’m just nervous about it coming so soon in our marriage. I thought we’d have time for the two of us before a baby came along.”

“Better early than never. Because never is a really long time.”

The word never is a powerful one. It has no mercy. It’s stern and doesn’t sway. Ever. It means exactly what it says. It sort of brings the whole thing full circle in my head.

The doorbell rings. Shit. It’s not even eleven and Isobel is already here. She’s early.

I sprint for the door, opening it and motioning for my mother-in-law to come in. I flip the phone upside down so my mouth isn’t over the speaker. “I’m almost finished talking to Ellison. Just give me another minute.”

“No hurry. We have an hour until our appointments.”

 

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That might be okay if I didn’t have to shower. That means I’ve gotta rush.

“Elli, tonight is the reception with Sin’s family so I’ve gotta run. I have a hair appointment.”

“I should be there,” she says.

True. Except I married into a band of criminals so she’ll never have a place among us. “I wish you could be.”

“Send pictures. Lots of them. Particularly any of Sin’s hot Scottish friends.”

“Will do. But you shouldn’t expect much. Sin is the best looking of the bunch.”

God, she’d turn stupid if she saw Jamie, Leith, or Mitch. There’s no way I can ever let her see them. If she did, she’d be on the first plane to Edinburgh—and Jamie fits her type perfectly. All he’d have to do is open his mouth, say one medical word, and she’d be a goner.

Can’t happen. Ever.

I end my call with Ellison and I’m in a mad rush to shower and get out the door in time for my appointment.

Good thing the salon is a spa as well and will be doing it all: massage, waxing, facial, nails, hair, and makeup. I won’t have to worry about a thing. Maybe I can get the IVF off my mind long enough to enjoy the pampering.

* * *

Isobel insisted Sin not see me until the reception. She’s sad she wasn’t a part of our marriage ceremony so she’s treating this black-tie affair with The Fellowship like a ceremony as much as possible. It seems silly since we’re already married. We’ve had our cake and eaten it too—many times—but it’s important to Sin’s mom, so I’ve agreed.

Lorna crouches down and spreads my dress on the floor. She clears a path from top to bottom so I can step inside. I put the first foot through it onto the floor and stumble. “No floundering around when there’s a gun strapped to your body.”

There was no way to hide it from them since they’re helping me dress.

Westlyn rushes to my side. “Hold my hand so you don’t tumble over.”

I manage to get both feet on the floor free and clear of the fabric.

“Up we go.” I slip my arms in and Lorna glides my zipper up.

“This dress is stunning. Blows Kate Middleton’s away.” Westlyn steps back and gives me a once-over. “It cost a fortune, didn’t it?”

It did but Isobel insisted it was worth every penny. “Don’t make me say that number aloud.”

“Only the best for our leader’s wife who will one day carry the next generation of Fellowship leaders.” Lorna’s tone is mocking. I think she’s making fun of my duty to “bear an heir.”

Westlyn studies me in my dress. “Your boobs look bigger. Are you already pregnant?”

“Definitely not. The push-up gets all the credit.”

I laugh but not at Westlyn’s question. I find this entire conversation amusing. I’m in the middle of female chitchat and I don’t hate it. There could be hope for me yet.

“Are you and Sinclair being pressured to have a baby?”

That’s a loaded question.

“Not really. Thane has mentioned it to Sin but that’s it as far as I know.”

“Be prepared. It’s coming.”

There’s a knock at the door, my husband’s voice on the other side. “Bonny. It’s time.”

“That’s our cue.” My two friends hug me quickly and disappear down the stairs.

I’m standing in the middle of the posh Breckenridge guest house when Sin comes in to see me for the first time. I’m wearing a real wedding dress for this event, one much different from what I wore at our wedding. This one is a long mermaid silhouette with a lace overlay and blingy belt. Elegant. Fitted. Sexy. I like the way it makes me feel. But even more, I love the way Sin looks at me when he sees me in it for the first time.

I do a turn, flaring the bottom as I spin. “Like it?”

He nods. “Aye. Very much. It’s lovely but not nearly as beautiful as you.”

I lift the skirt of my dress to show him my feet.

“Ah. The shoes.”

“Yes, and if you’re lucky, I might wear them—and nothing else—for you tonight.”

He takes my face in his hands and places a soft kiss to my lips before pressing his forehead to mine. “Thank you.”

I don’t know what he means. “For what?”

“For being my wife and partner for life.” He’s repeating the words from our wedding, with one exception. He leaves off the part about being the mother of his children but it’s still a reminder. Tonight marks the deadline. It’s been a week since we agreed to make the decision about the IVF. And time’s up.

“Mmm … I’d like nothing more than to lie you on that bed and unwrap you like the beautiful gift you are.”

“You can unwrap me later.”

“I certainly will.”

“Our guests are anxious to visit with the new Mrs. Breckenridge but they’ll need to wait a few minutes more. I have something special for you.”

Sin takes my hands and leads me to the bed. “Sit.”

My curiosity is stirred. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he fetches his violin from the closet. He comes to me and goes down on one knee. It isn’t an easy task for him, which makes it even more special. “This is for you. A gift from my heart.”

Oh my God. I recognize the song within a few strokes of the bow. It’s “Amanda.” My mom’s song.

 

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It makes one of the most beautiful violin covers I’ve ever heard. I love it. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of learning it.

“That was beautiful. I felt every note.”

“I learned it so I could teach you.”

“It’s the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”

He rises and takes my hand. “Come. It’s time for the brotherhood to meet my bride.”

Sin leads me down the staircase, holding my hand to ensure my safety. I’m grasping my dress, pulling up at the thigh. Because it’s long, the skirt is a trip hazard.

Once I’m safely on the first floor, I straighten and smooth my dress. “Good?”

“Perfect.”

It’s the wrong word to explain how I look. The word perfection should be saved for describing the celebration Isobel has planned. She’s outdone herself but I’d expect no less after the last event she put together for me.

It’s beyond amazing.

Tables are spread throughout the garden beneath three enormous white canopies. The underside of each is covered with a bazillion tiny lights, our own starlit sky. Huge lanterns hang throughout, emitting heat so the outdoor spaces are warm, despite the evening’s cold.

Each table is adorned with fine linens and tableware. No surprise there. And she’s made seat assignments. Thank God for that since I’m certain Isobel wouldn’t have put Abram anywhere near me.

Enormous white floral arrangements adorn the centers of each table, surrounded by glowing candle lanterns. It screams magical winter wonderland. And it’s beyond beautiful.

A man I assume to be the ceremony’s emcee introduces us as we enter the center canopy. “It’s my pleasure to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair Breckenridge.”

I can’t even guess at how many people are present. It’s a lot, and all of them are clapping. The men in our path slap Sin on the back and murmur offers of congratulations as we proceed to our table. We’re seated at the largest one, front and center.

I’ve always felt Sin’s role within The Fellowship was comparable to that of a prince-in-waiting. I once mocked it. But that was before I became a part of his world. I couldn’t feel more like a queen than I do in this moment. And I love it. It’s nice to be so well received by his people.

Champagne in hand, Jamie leads the toasts. “On behalf of Sinclair and Bleu, I’d like to thank everyone for coming out on this bitter cold night to celebrate their marriage. Even all the ladies in tears who are heartbroken to see my friend no longer available for the taking.” The crowd laughs; I do as well.

“I have to tell you that I knew it was over for Sin the minute he laid eyes on Bleu. He thought he was so damn smart, keeping his feelings for her hidden from everyone, but I could see he was smitten by this American lass. I’ve never known my friend to be as happy and content as he was in Bleu’s presence. It never mattered to him if she was Fellowship or not. He was determined to make her his, no matter the cost. And it was a high one. He made the ultimate sacrifice so she could become one of us. And now she is by both initiation and marriage. I wish you both the best of luck and a life filled with health, happiness, and joy. I wish you many healthy babies and may they all take after their beautiful mother so none of them are as ugly as Sinclair.” The crowd erupts into laughter again and Jamie lifts his glass higher. “To my best friend Sinclair and his lovely wife, who shall now become my dear friend as well. May we all find love as precious as theirs.”

I’ve not spent much time with Jamie so his speech comes as a surprise. He lifts his drink in my direction and nods before tossing it back.

Leith is next at the mic, and I’m a little worried about what he might say. “Everyone knows Sin, Jamie, and myself have been best friends since we were bairns. We’ve spent twenty-six years sharing any and every thing, so I didn’t take well to being told to back off of Bleu.” Oh God. I think Leith is drunk. This is going to be bad.

I give Sin the look, the one that says “stop him before he makes an ass of himself and us.”

Sin shakes his head and returns his attention to his friend. He seems to have confidence in him. I don’t.

“It took a little while but I finally realized Sin put boundaries up around Bleu because he was in love with her. That’s the natural order of things when a man loves a woman. He doesn’t allow other men near her. Once I figured that out, a lot of things became very clear for me.”

“Sin is a liar, a cheater, and a thief.” Leith lifts his glass and my heart pounds. I thought I had sorted out where his speech was going but now I’m afraid I was wrong.

“Stop him,” I tell Sin.

Sin places his hand on my thigh. “He’s fine.”

“When he lies, may it be beside you. Or in a court of law so he may keep all you wankers out of the slammer.” The crowd breaks into laughter and I’m marginally relieved. But he isn’t finished.

“When he cheats, may it be death.” I hear what sounds like the murmurs of hundreds saying “aye” in unison. “Seems he already has that one down since he’s managed to dodge the grave twice now.” I hear more gleeful sounds but I still brace myself for what could come next.

Leith is full of lingering anger with Sin, and it has nothing to do with me. It may take a little digging but I fully intend on finding out what’s going on between them.

“When he steals, may it be your heart and your kisses. Or whatever is of value from The Order when the opportunity presents itself.”

 

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The brotherhood bursts into cheers. I look at Sin and roll my eyes. I can’t believe Leith is turning his best man toast into jokes about lying in court and stealing from The Order.

Leith holds up his glass for what I think is a final statement. At least, I hope that’s what it is. He’s still making me nervous.

“The traditional toast says, ‘If you drink, drink deeply of the joy of your new life together.’ While we all wish that for our happy leader and his bride, I say to everyone: drink deeply tonight in honor of them. Congratulations, Sin and Bleu. May we all know love that will push us above and beyond any limits standing in the way.”

“Finally,” I say beneath my breath as I bring my champagne up for a drink.

Sin laughs while drinking to Leith’s toast. “Did you really think he would say something in poor taste?”

I heard the things Leith said to Sin in the ring the day they fought. There’s bad blood there. “I only know one thing. Never trust a drunk holding a mic.”

“Good point. But it’s done now and all is well.”

The toasts continue far too long. Everyone in the brotherhood wants to offer their congratulations and well wishes for our marriage … and future children. There are so many toasts, I’m on my way to drunkenness without intending it.

We’re nearing the last of the well-wishers when Sin puts his hand on my leg beneath the table. He leans over to whisper in my ear and his warm breath ignites chills down my body. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

He pulls away. He scans my face and leans back to take a look below the table. “What is that?”

“My Beretta.”

“You’re wearing a wedding dress with a gun strapped to your thigh?”

I shrug. “Almost every Fellowship member is gathered here. It would be crazy to not be prepared in case of an invasion.”

“My wife has a pistol hidden beneath her dress. That is fucking hot.”

“I might let you take it off me later.”

Sin removes his hand from my thigh and takes my hand. “Dance with me, Mrs. Breckenridge.”

I’ve been his wife going on two months and I still get chills when he calls me that. I hope it never stops.

We move to the dance floor and he takes me in his arms as we sway to the band’s rendition of “The Way You Look Tonight.”

“My husband is a very good dancer.” His movements are smooth despite his amputation.

The solitary dimple makes an appearance. “Only when I have the right partner.”

I follow Sin’s lead. “I’m not a great dancer but I feel like I am when I’m with you.”

“Everything we do in life is going to be great as long as we do it together.”

“I know.” I move closer and place my head against his chest.

I look forward to all the great things we’re going to do together. I love being a wife but I miss being a daughter and sister. It hurts every day. “I wish Dad and Ellison were here. And both of my moms. I miss all of them so much.”

“I know. I sometimes hear you cry when you’re alone for your soaks in the tub.”

He’s given me those moments to myself. I appreciate him granting me the distance I need. He is my husband but those private times remain very important. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

We dance but I’m preoccupied by one of the toasts a brother made. I’m hesitant to bring it up. I don’t want to put a damper on the good time we’re having but I can’t help myself. “Todd Cockburn’s toast was interesting.”

“How so?”

“He called me your Bleubird.”

“Purely coincidental.”

“It’s weird since that’s what my mother called me.”

“You crossed him off the list. He didn’t pan out.”

“I know.”

Sin stops moving. I immediately worry I’ve angered him by bringing up the investigation during our wedding celebration.

“May I have this dance with my new niece?” Every hair stands on the back of my neck.

I don’t have to see him to know it’s Abram.

“It’s fine,” I say to Sin. He doesn’t look convinced so I nod.

Abram can’t hurt me for two reasons. First, I’m Fellowship, just as he is. I’m the wife of his future leader. Secondly, we’re in front of the entire brotherhood. But I’m no fool. I’m quite aware the latter is the only thing assuring my safety for the time being.

I don’t trust this man.

Abram takes my hand and leads me in a basic box step. Moving with him on the dance floor feels like dancing with the devil. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular. I just want to dance with my niece.”

“Bullshit.”

“Such a lady.”

“And you’re always such a gentlemen.”

“Westlyn tells me you’ve been doing a lot of socializing with the women since your return.”

“I don’t know them. I need to remedy that if I’m to be any kind of leader.”

“Stay away from my daughters.”

His voice oozes acid. Good. I think it could be a sign he actually cares for his girls.

I barely know Evanna but Westlyn is becoming a dear friend. I’ve never had that before so I don’t intend on giving up our friendship so easily. “Despite what you may believe about me, I’m not the enemy. I’m committed to The Fellowship and its well-being.”

 

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“You’ll never convince me of that.”

I’m suddenly shoved from behind, sending my body crashing into the psychopath. He breaks my fall and reaches out to grab the arm of the culprit—a small girl playing chase with three other children. “Whoa. Slow it down there, toots. You wouldn’t want to knock your future leader’s wife onto her bum in her pretty dress.”

Toots. Toots? Toots! That’s what my mother’s killer called me before placing a pillow over my face.

It could be nothing. Or it could be something. Either way, I think I may be adding a new color of sticky note to my wall of suspects. One representing Abram Breckenridge.

Chapter Fourteen

Sinclair Breckenridge

I watch every move Abram makes with my wife. Every step. Every turn. I don’t trust him with Bleu and I don’t expect to any time soon. How can I when he had men hunting her as our enemy only a few short weeks ago?

I’m alarmed when I see her shoved against him—even if it’s an accident by a small lass not looking where she’s going. I instantly go into defense mode. I bolt across the temporary dance floor.

“Are you all right?”

“I was bumped by a little girl. I’m fine.”

“I can see your husband is ready to have his wife returned to him.”

Abram takes Bleu’s hand and kisses the top. “Congratulations again on your nuptials. May you deliver many healthy sons and daughters as heirs to The Fellowship.”

That son of a bitch.

Bleu yanks her hand from his. Her face pales. “Come dance with me.”

She doesn’t move so I encourage her with a tighter grasp. “Now, Bonny.”

She comes but not happily. I pull her into a close embrace. She’s stiff, not returning my affectionate hold. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed him near you.”

It’s my job to protect her, and that includes from Abram.

“He knows about my fertility problems.”

She need not even think I’ve confided in him—or anyone else—about what’s going on. “I haven’t told anyone. I swear.”

She relaxes.

“He had people investigating me. It wouldn’t be difficult to put the pieces together if he saw my payments to the medical facility where I bank my eggs from the retrieval I did a couple of years ago.”

“It doesn’t matter what or how he knows.” Unless he had us followed to the clinic in London. I’d better not find out that’s the case. “Our fertility issues are our business. Not The Fellowship’s and damn sure not his.”

Bleu pulls away and her eyes connect with mine. “I’m adding him to my list of suspects.”

She’s not thinking clearly. “What motive would Abram have for killing your mother?”

“I don’t know but I want to talk to Thane.”

That can’t happen. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not?”

She has no idea what kind of shit she’ll be stirring. A war waging between two leaders of The Fellowship will only weaken the brotherhood. That makes us vulnerable to attack.

“You can’t go to my father and name his brother as a suspect for murdering the woman he loved. You need proof before you accuse a brother—especially a leader—of something like that.”

“I know it isn’t much to go on but that little girl who bumped into me … Abram called her toots. That’s the same name my mother’s killer called me.”

That’s no kind of proof. Bleu’s a former agent. I shouldn’t have to tell her this. “Toots is a common name to call a child. It doesn’t prove he’s a killer.”

“But a bite from a dog on his leg will. All I need is to see he doesn’t have a scar and he’ll be excluded. It’s easy as that.”

Abram is capable of a lot but in no way do I believe he’s guilty of Amanda Lawrence’s murder. Fingering him as her killer is a waste of time. And possibly detrimental to The Fellowship. There are huge problems brewing with The Order. We can’t afford a breakdown in leadership right now.

“Bonny. I understand the importance of finding your mother’s killer. You need closure and I desperately want that for you but you won’t find it in naming Abram.”

There’s so much she’s yet to learn. “You’re new to The Fellowship so you don’t understand what an enormous conflict like this between my father and his brother could cause.”

I understand Bleu’s thirst for revenge but her obsession has become a disease very much like the cancer that took her father. She’s spent most of her life chasing something I fear will destroy her in the end. I can’t—and won’t—allow this to eat away her heart. I love her too much to let that happen.

She needs a diversion—one wrapped in a pink or baby blue blanket.

* * *

Our reception lasts well into the night. It’s very late—or quite early, depending how you look at it—when Sterling takes us home.

I think Bleu has had more champagne than she should. And I’m certain I have. Tomorrow won’t be gentle on our heads so I pull our bedroom drapes together. We won’t get much light until later in the morning but I want the option of sleeping in without the sun giving any arguments about it.

I’m lying in bed when Bleu slips in next to me. She becomes still and releases a long sigh. “I love your mother to pieces but that was intense.”

 

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I expected no less. I knew Mum would go overboard.

I’m not sure Bleu fully understands what our extravagant wedding celebration represents. “Mum and Dad are pleased about our union. They approve of you and this reception was their way of conveying those feelings to the brotherhood. Because my parents are happy about our marriage, they command our people to be as well. Nothing less will be tolerated.”

“I had no idea. I’ll need to find a way to thank your parents, particularly Isobel, for going to such extremes to ensure my acceptance.”

“You can cook for them sometime. That’ll be thanks enough. They’ll love your southern cuisine.”

“I can do that.”

We lie in bed, neither of us saying a word. The minutes tick by and I become increasingly nervous about broaching the subject of the IVF procedure.

I listen to her breathing for a moment to see if it’s slow and steady. It’s not. I whisper her name to gain her attention, but not wake her if she has fallen asleep.

“Mmm-hmm?”

Good. She’s still awake. “Can we talk about the IVF?”

“Sure.” The mattress dips as she moves.

I’ve practiced what I’d say in my head all day. “We must make a decision based on what’s best for us in the present since we don’t know what the future holds. The timing might not be ideal, but if we’re lucky enough for the IVF to work, I will never look at our child and wish we didn’t have him or her. And I don’t believe you will, either. However, if we don’t pursue it, we could spend the rest of our lives with regret. I’d like to do the embryo transfer now.”

“You sound very decided.”

“I am. I want our own child if there’s a possibility to make that happen.”

“I spoke to my sister today. She told me having a baby early was better than never. The word ‘never’ got stuck in my head and I thought about it all day. I was reminded that I’m not the only one in this marriage, so I have to consider what never having our own child means to you as well. I could only come to one conclusion. Early is a much better alternative to never. But that means if it’s successful, I’m going to need your help with my plan. I won’t be able to do it alone.”

“Bonny. Have you yet to figure out that baby or not, you were never going to carry this out alone?” Even if I’d not made the arrangement with her father, I wouldn’t let her go through with her plan. I never want her heart to carry the darkness that accompanies cold-blooded murder.

* * *

It’s Monday—first day back to work following our reception. I’m not certain I’m fully recovered from the hangover. I’m never getting drunk on champagne again. Yesterday was brutal.

I’m leaning over the sink trimming my facial hair when Bleu comes into the bathroom, yawning and sleepy-eyed. The lass is definitely no morning person.

“I’m sorry. Did the buzz of my shaver wake you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m up because I’m going to work with you.”

This is news to me. “Why?”

“Isobel wants me to become familiar with Breckenridge Incorporated. She says it’s important for me to understand how it functions.”

Mum is right. Bleu needs to have an understanding of how we run things so she’s prepared when Mum’s role is passed to her.

“Sterling will be here in forty minutes.” Lie. He won’t actually be here for another hour but I know how she is and I don’t want her making me late.

“I’ll be ready when he arrives.”

Oddly, I like the idea of Bleu going to work with me. I miss her during the long hours I’m away so it’ll be nice to have her near.

“I wish I could give you the tour but I have court. I’ll need to use my morning preparing.”

“No problem. I can find one of the Fellowship women to show me around.”

“If not, I’ll find someone for you.”

My father approaches the building housing Breckenridge Incorporated as we near the entrance. He holds the door, surprise on his face. “What brings my beautiful daughter-in-law to the office so early this morning?”

“Isobel suggested I come down and have a look around, maybe become familiar with how things run.”

“Ahh … a very good idea. You could learn a lot from Isobel.”

“I already have and I’m certain there’s much more to come.”

As much as my parents hate one another, even my father has to admit that my mum is his biggest supporter when it comes to leadership within The Fellowship. He may be the head but she is the neck. They were never fine examples to follow when it comes to marriage but leadership is an entirely different story. The two of them together could rule any kingdom.

We part ways with my father at the lift.

“How many floors does Breckenridge Incorporated occupy?” Bleu asks.

“Three through five are ours.”

“The offices on those levels are filled by BI?”

“Aye. We have a lot going on around here.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

“I would think you’d already be privy to the business here after watching us for so long.”

“We had no idea it was this extensive.”

“Good. That means we’ve kept things on the down-low, which is exactly what we want.”

It’s early so we pass empty desks on the way to my office. “Welcome to the legal department.”

 

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We go inside and Bleu immediately looks around. She isn’t interested in the cool gray walls, contemporary office furniture, or shelves of law books. Her eyes go straight for the leather sofa. “You have a couch in your office?”

“Aye, and I’ve spent quite a few nights on it.” But not a single one since we’ve been married. There’s been no need. I want to be at home in bed with my wife every night.

She narrows her eyes at me. “You better mean sleeping.”

“It was mostly tossing and turning. Being at the flat without you was miserable but the nights were even worse. I worked myself ragged trying to get you out of my head. I slept here so I didn’t have to go home to our empty bed.”

“That’s sort of sweet.”

I move to stand behind her and place my hands on her hips. I use them to drive her toward the couch until the front of her thighs are pressed against the arm. “You should know I have every intention of fucking you on this sofa. I think we should christen it right now.”

“At seven in the morning when your assistants could come into work at any minute?”

“Linsey is always the first one here but she never arrives before a quarter after—just like clockwork. That gives us fifteen minutes.”

I reach beneath her skirt and kiss the back of her neck as she twists to look at me over her shoulder. “Who is Linsey?”

I slide my hand up the back of her thigh. “My paralegal.”

She grabs my wrist, stopping me from going further. “You’ve never talked about her.”

And I don’t wish to now, either. “I’ve had no reason to. We never discuss my job.”

“How long has she worked for you?”

I’m not surprised my wife wants details. I would if she were working side by side with a man I didn’t know.

“When I was in law school, Linsey came forward and volunteered to be my paralegal when I became defender for the brotherhood. The Fellowship sent her to college where she was properly trained to be my legal assistant.”

“So this has been in the works for years?”

“Yes. Only men must choose a service to The Fellowship when they come of age but some women do as well—the ones who want to work and contribute by means other than being claimed and taken care of by a man.”

“I’m sure it was a painful choice on her part to volunteer to be up your ass every day. Let me guess. She isn’t married?”

“No, but I am. Happily.”

I know where Bleu’s going with this. She’s suggesting Linsey volunteered as a close contact so she could pursue snagging me. And my wife’s absolutely right. Linsey has confirmed that as her intention on more than one occasion.

Complete honesty. It’s the only way to handle this.

“She has tried to fuck me but I turned her down.”

Bleu twists in my arms so we’re face to face. “Since we’ve been together?”

“Technically, we weren’t together. She didn’t come to work for me until after I finished my traineeship. It happened after you were back in the US.”

“She had no idea I left you. As far as she was concerned, we were still a couple when she tried to sleep with you. That’s a betrayal against me.”

I was wrong. She’s not jealous. She’s angry.

“You should know now that Linsey and I will be having our own Fellowship meeting later today.”

I look at the clock and see we’ve wasted three of our fifteen minutes having this asinine conversation. “Fine. You’re to become her leader. Handle it the way you think you must. Until then, shut up and kiss me,” I growl before my lips crash against hers.

She doesn’t push away. Instead, she melts into my arms.

Her mouth tastes minty fresh but it’s not what I’m craving. “Turn around.”

I help her twist so she’s facing the sofa again. I put my hand between her shoulder blades and push them down so her bum is bent over the arm—right where I want it. I glide my hand over one cheek before lifting it and bringing my palm down against it playfully, but with enough force to catch her attention.

She squeals. “Oh! What was that for?”

“I want your full attention on us and what we’re about to do. Your wild imagination conjuring things that have not happened has no place here. Understand?”

“Aye,” she says, a giggle escaping.

I laugh at her use of the word I so often say to her. “Good. I’m happy we’re on the same page.”

I lift the bottom of her black skirt so her bum is exposed. She’s wearing pink knickers, the ones barely covering anything. No surprise there. I saw her put them on when she was getting ready this morning. They made me hard then and they’re making me hard now.

I glide my palm over the silky fabric barely covering the cheek I spanked. “I’ve spent a lot of nights on this couch wondering where you were and imagining what I’d do to you if I ever got you like this.”

“And now that you have me where you want me, what are you going to do?”

I glide my middle finger down her cleft, only the fabric of her knickers preventing me from pushing my finger inside. “Things so dirty they should never be done in the light of day.”

She straightens her arms and presses them into the cushion of the sofa, bracing for what’s to come.

I look at the clock and then at the open door. Fuck! I should have closed it. My mistake. But in my defense, I didn’t know we were going to have a conversation about a sofa that would spark me bending my wife over its arm for an early-morning shag.

 

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I’m wrestling with the choice of dragging Bleu’s knickers to her knees or helping her upright and offering a rain check for my dirty deeds.

My decision is made for me when I hear the closing of Linsey’s desk drawer, announcing her arrival. No kidding. She’s been working here for months and has arrived at a quarter after on the dot every single day. Until now. She’s nine minutes early. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Bleu looks over her shoulder at me. “What?”

“She’s in early today.”

Bleu drops her head and sighs. “Dammit. I was so looking forward to seeing what you classified as an act so dirty it should never be done in the light of day.”

I kiss the back of her head and pull her skirt down to cover her bum. I pat it lovingly before helping her to stand. “Later. You have my word.”

“That’s a promise I’ll expect you to keep.”

* * *

My wife is pleasant to Linsey when they’re introduced but I don’t mistake their meeting for anything other than what it is—the calm before the storm. Linsey has a special kind of hell waiting for her, and its name is Bleu Breckenridge.

Since I have last-minute preparations for court, I place Bleu in the capable hands of my mum’s oldest and dearest friend, Treva, for a tour of the third floor.

I’m finishing up the final touches of my argument when my father appears at my office door. “Got a minute?”

I look at the clock. “I have exactly fourteen to spare.”

“Good. What I have to say can be said in thirteen.”

“That’ll be all, Linsey.”

“Yes, sir.”

My father waits until the door is shut. It’s his way. He never talks shop in front of anyone but those who sit at the leadership table. Doesn’t matter how trivial. “You must be proud to see your wife showing an interest in BI.”

“Of course. Mum was right to suggest Bleu make a visit.”

“I agree. It’s very important for Bleu to understand the business part of The Fellowship but as your wife, she has another very important job as well. Is she aware of the expectations placed upon her?”

I’m a little surprised my father is already bringing this up. “She knows and it’s in the works.”

My father grins. “Bleu’s already pregnant?”

“Not yet, but she’s agreed to work on it. We saw a doctor last week and he gave us the go-ahead.” I’m not telling my father about Bleu’s reproductive issues. It’ll only cause unnecessary concern.

“My grandchildren will be Amanda’s grandchildren. They’ll each carry a small piece of her and me in them. You can’t imagine how incredibly special that will make them to me.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Your mum will be so pleased to have a baby in the family. She adores children.”

“I suspect as much.” I’m certain my mum is itching to get her hands on a grandchild since all of her children were taken from her so young.

I understand my father did what he thought was right for The Fellowship but he was wrong. And I don’t plan on repeating his mistakes. He needs to know this early on. “If we have a son, I won’t take him from her.”

“You don’t have a choice. Your son must be raised in The Fellowship way.”

“And he will be—raised by both of his parents.”

“The brotherhood will not agree.”

“Their approval is not a requirement.”

“Your son will be a weak leader if he’s not raised among strong councilmen.”

My father is wrong. “I’m stronger with Bleu by my side. The same will be true for our children. End of story.”

Chapter Fifteen

Bleu Breckenridge

Treva has shown me far more than I ever wanted to see on the third floor housing BI. The average person walking through would only see a nice business front. What they wouldn’t pick up on is the slew of illegal activities happening behind the scenes.

They steal from thieves, terrorists, rival criminal organizations, and so on. I find myself justifying the acts they commit. The longer I’m one of them, the easier it is to turn a blind eye. The agent I was a year ago would never have done that.

I return to the legal department and to Sin’s office. I sit in his chair and pick up the framed photo of us on his desk. It was taken at my initiation during the vow ceremony. He had just cut my hand, and then his own. Our fingers are laced, a trickle of blood oozing down our arms. It was such a primitive thing for him to do. And hot. I still remember how much I wanted him afterward.

My phone alerts me to a new message.

*Tied up with a client. Don’t know how long I’ll be. See you at home in a little while. Love you.*

Well, no christening the couch tonight. And no dirty deeds that should never see the light of day. Not that they would have anyway. It’s already dark out.

I pull on my coat and situate my scarf so I don’t freeze my ass off when I walk out into the frigid wind. It’s going to take awhile for this southern girl to grow accustomed to the cold.

I leave my husband’s office and find Linsey sitting at her desk. It’s after five o’clock and she’s the only one left—besides me.

“Linsey.” She jerks at the sound of my voice. She’s undeniably surprised to see me.

She clears her voice and does a terrible job of forcing a faux cough as I move toward her. She fidgets, straightening stacks of files on her desk, moving the same pile three times.

 

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“Did you have a good day touring BI?”

“Very good, thank you.”

I’m not like other women. I don’t feed into female drama. I’ve never played their catty games and I won’t now. But I strongly suspect this woman is hanging around the office to steal a moment with my husband. She needs to understand that’s unacceptable and I won’t tolerate it.

I wheel an empty chair from a neighboring vacant desk into Linsey’s space. I sit so we’re facing one another.

My original plan was to get in her face, threaten her with bodily harm if she ever tried that shit with my husband again. The scene played out in my head most of the morning. But my plan has changed. The strong woman Sin needs by his side wouldn’t deal with this situation in that manner.

Leadership isn’t a position or title. It’s action and example. Everyone is watching to see how I’ll react to the problems thrown my way.

“Say my name, Linsey.”

“Mrs. Breckenridge.” Her eyes are large, her voice unsteady.

“Correct. I’m Mrs. Breckenridge. That means Sin has a wife so there’s only room for one woman in his bed.”

“I … ”

I hold my hand up to silence her. “Distrust is our only defense against betrayal. And I’d like to thank you for making it clear early on that I should never trust you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” There’s little that annoys me more than a woman playing dumb.

“Sin will be leader of The Fellowship when Thane steps down. I’m his wife. That will make me your leader. You’ve already lost my trust. Do you really want to lose my respect as well?”

She fidgets in her chair. Her legs bounce. She bites her bottom lip.

“I know what you think of me but you’re wrong. I’m not like those women who want to be claimed. I didn’t volunteer for this job so I could be close to Sin and make a place for myself at the top of the hierarchy. I want to work and be independent so I don’t have to count on a man for everything.”

I watch her body language as she speaks. I think she’s telling me the truth but I suspect there’s more to the story.

“That sounds all well and good until you factor in the part where you tried to sleep with Sin while I was away. I’m a firm believer that when someone shows you who they are, you’re wise to believe them.”

She looks defeated. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“Elaborate.”

“Abram made me,” she says.

That son of a bitch.

“What were his instructions?” I ask.

“He told me to fuck Sinclair until he forgot you.”

That bastard knew Sin loved me and would come for me.

“You realize you’re betraying Abram by confiding in me?”

“I value your trust and respect more than his. I’m hoping you’ll see it as a gesture of good faith. And perhaps come to forget what I did.”

Linsey isn’t stupid. She understands loyalty to Abram won’t serve her well for long since Sin will be replacing him soon.

Abram is cunning. I’m sure he made this woman feel as though her only choice was to carry out his orders.

Harry taught me that honorable people choose to restore dignity in others. “I think it’s possible we can put this behind us. But remember—you can’t ask for trust. It can only be earned.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I think this was a very productive meeting.” I get up and return my chair back to its home. “Would you like to walk out with me?”

“I think I would.”

She gathers her things and we step onto the lift together. “The other Fellowship women, I mean the ones you’ve spent time with this week, like you very much. I see why.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

We stop in the lobby of the BI building to bundle up before stepping out into the cold. “Want to share a cab?”

“My sister is picking me up. We have a standing date for dinner every Monday night. You should join us.”

Sin has no idea how long he’ll be tied up. I don’t really want to go home to an empty house.

“I’d like that very much.”

* * *

After dinner, I part ways with Linsey and her sister. Sterling is busy with Sin so I’m left with cabbing it home.

The wind is brutal. I immediately want to return to the warmth I’ve just left. I pull on gloves and shiver in the faint drizzle. Though it’s not enough for an umbrella, I lift my hood to cover my head since it’ll eventually accumulate and leave me with a wet head.

I walk to the edge of the street to hail a taxi. Thank God I don’t have to wait long. I’m chilled to the bone.

I call out my address to the driver. His voice comes over the speaker into the back of the cab. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

It’s the accent. I think Scots ask me to repeat things so they can get another listen and try to peg where I’m from.

I open my mouth to repeat my address and see Abram leaving the same restaurant. He gets into the taxi in front of us.

Sin says I must have proof if I’m going to name Abram a suspect. There’s only one way to find proof. I must investigate him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like you to follow that cab in front of us instead.”

We leave the financial district. We take a bazillion side roads, finally landing in a small village on the edge of the city. Abram’s taxi stops in front of a tiny stone cottage. “Drive past slowly.”

 

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This doesn’t look like the psychopath’s type of hangout. He enjoys the finer things in life so I’m intrigued by what would bring the high-and-mighty Abram to this neck of the woods.

I duck low in the back seat and watch him walk toward the cottage’s front door. “Pull forward and I’ll get out two cottages down.”

I backtrack to the house and note it’s a private residence. He’s visiting someone. Who?

I doubt this will benefit my investigation at all but one important lesson I learned from being an agent: a discovery can seem entirely unrelated and then turn out to be the crucial piece of evidence to blow the lid off.

I’m covered by darkness so I don’t fear gaining the attention of the neighbors as I dart around to the back of the stone cottage. I tiptoe across the damp grass but I don’t have far to go. The backyard is tiny, as most are in Edinburgh.

I listen for a moment and then peek through the window of the back entrance. No sign of Abram or his host.

I turn the knob and discover it’s locked. No problem. I’ve been picking locks like this since I was thirteen.

I take my lock-picking instruments from my purse. I consider them a staple for my handbag, the same as some women carry lip gloss.

I insert the tension wrench into the lower portion of the keyhole. I put the pick into the upper part and rake the pins. In under a minute, music to my ears as the tumbler clicks over. “Boosh.”

That was too easy. No way this place belongs to someone from The Fellowship. Or any other criminal organization. There’s no deadbolt or barrier preventing a home invasion. The person living in this place isn’t concerned with such things.

I slowly crack the door. The creak of hinges is the only sound. No voices. Odd.

I move through the kitchen, coming to a sudden stop when my weight causes the floor beneath my feet to creak. Damn these old buildings.

No one is in the living area. That’s where one would expect a visit to occur. Again, odd. Until I hear the sound from the room at the end of the hallway. Grunts. Moans. Rhythmic squeaking. I can’t mistake it for anything else. Sex.

Well, well. The psychopath has a lover. And I’d bet my ass she isn’t Fellowship. No way a woman from within the circle would stay in a dump like this when she knows Abram could put her up in the finest flat in Edinburgh.

I don’t need to see what’s happening. I’ll vomit if I do. I creep out the same way I crept in.

I sit on the bench at the bus stop on the corner and pull my hood tightly over my head. I wrap my scarf around the lower half of my face for warmth. And concealment.

Abram leaves ten minutes later. Not a cuddler, I suppose. No shock there.

My mind goes into brainstorm mode on the best way to connect with this woman. Sometimes it’s like hiding in plain sight. The most obvious is the most oblivious. I’ll just knock on her door.

A beautiful blond in a silky night robe answers.

“Hello. I’m so sorry to bother you but I’m trying to find the Croft residence.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know them but I haven’t lived in this neighborhood for long.” She points to the cottage to her left. “Maybe you want to check with the Mrs. Darrow next door. She knows everyone in this area—along with their personal business.”

Sounds as though Mrs. Darrow may be a busybody who likes to gossip? “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

I make a beeline to the neighbor’s home, an exact replica of the nearby cottage. “Hello. I was just next door but it seems your neighbor isn’t home. I’m trying to find out who owns the property.”

“And why would ye be wanting to know that?”

“I’m sorry. I should have explained myself. I was told the house would be going on the market but I don’t see a sign with contact information. I’m hoping to make an offer before anyone else shows interest so I might secure it at a better price.”

“Are ye married?”

“Aye.” I quickly use my thumb to flip my huge diamond around so it’s facing inside. I flash my left hand. “Happily.”

“Children?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d like to get someone quiet in here to take her place. Her name is Cameron Ewart. I have her number if you’d like it.”

“Yes. That would be wonderful.”

She opens her door wider. “Come in, lass.”

“You’d likely do better reaching her at night. The lazy bag of bones stays up all night and sleeps all day. Worthless.”

I follow her into her kitchen. She takes out a notepad from a drawer and scribbles her neighbor’s name. She finds a second notepad and copies over her contact.

“I’m Mrs. Darrow, by the way.”

“I’m Joanna Glenn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

And that’s how it begins. The unraveling of a detailed story about Cameron Ewart follows. I learn far more than I dared hope about the woman Abram came to visit.

At first glance, none of it appears to help my case but there’s room for deeper investigating.

Sin won’t like it. He’s not yet in a place where he’s able to see Abram for the monster he is. That’ll come. With proof.

I have a plan but I’ll need help. I can’t depend on Sin for that. But Isobel is a different story. She hates Abram as much as I do.

I won’t be finding a taxi for a lift home in this village. I take my phone from my purse. “I need to see you—without Thane. And I could use a ride.”

 

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* * *

Isobel has made tea. I smell it the minute I step inside her house. Mint—my favorite.

“Come. We’ll take tea in the sitting room.”

The sitting room is an indulgent space, clearly a woman’s territory. Lavish rug. Exquisite furnishings. Delicate, feminine accent pieces. Isobel’s style is understated classy. Unlike Abram and Torri’s ostentatious home.

She places a cup and saucer on the cocktail table. I already know she has prepared it to my liking. She’s thoughtful that way.

“Thank you.” I wrap my cold hands around the warm cup and sip. It feels good on my throat.

She already knows I’m here about Abram. I told her that much over the phone. “I assume ye’ve discovered something good since ye wanted tae see me without Thane?”

I’m not sure what my findings could lead to but my instincts tell me I’m on to something. “I followed him today.”

The corners of her mouth turn up, her expression telling me she approves of my actions—unlike Sin. I’m certain he’d be very angry with me. “And?”

“He went to a house in East Lothian and had sex with a woman. I don’t think she’s Fellowship.”

Isobel sputters tea. “I’m not sure I want tae ask how ye know this.”

“It’s possible I may have picked the lock and entered the house through the back door.” I shrug. “Maybe.”

She no longer approves. I know by the way she’s looking at me. It’s the same expression Harry used to give me. I think it can only be mastered by a parent. “That was a risky thing tae do.”

Isobel is worried for my safety. I love her dearly for that. “I was in and out in a snap.”

“I understand the extent of training ye’ve had in this type of thing, but it doesn’t stop me from being concerned for ye. Especially when Abram is involved. He’s dangerous.”

“I know.” I trust Isobel. I can confide in her. “I’ve added him to my list of suspects.”

“What’s led ye tae that conclusion?”

I explain why Abram has popped onto my radar. “Sin says I can’t accuse Abram without concrete proof but I think I may know how to get it. This woman is having sex with him. She’ll know if he has a scar on his leg.”

“How do ye plan on getting her tae tell ye this?”

“Asking won’t work.” This is where the plan gets a little hairy. “So I’ll do it by force. At gunpoint.”

“Oh, Bleu. I don’t know about that.”

“I’ve had a gun pointed at my head before.” I’ve not yet forgotten the way it felt when Sin held that pistol to my jaw and threatened to blow my brains out. “It greatly improves your motivation to talk.”

“When would ye do this?” she asks.

“I was thinking the best time would be when Sin’s called away in the middle of the night on Fellowship business. It happens at least once a week. He’ll be gone until morning. I could slip out and be back before he comes home.”

“Are ye sure ye want tae do this behind Sin’s back?”

I wish I didn’t have to. “He doesn’t support me where this is concerned.”

“The girl will tell Abram it was an American.”

“I’ve been practicing my accent.” It’s not great but it’s better than Ellison’s.

I spout off a few lines in my best impression. Isobel’s expression becomes pained. “Oh dear.”

“That bad?”

“Aye. It’s fairly awful.”

I thought I sounded decent. “I can keep practicing.”

“She’s a Scots. She’ll know a phony.” She sighs. “There’s only one solution. I’ll go with ye and do the talking.”

I can’t bring Isobel into this. If Thane found out, it could cause huge problems for her. “I can’t involve you.”

“The girl will know you’re American. There’s no mistaking that sweet, southern voice. Then Abram will know. That can’t happen.”

Shit. She’s right. My goose is cooked if Abram figures out I’m on to him. He won’t want to be exposed to Thane as his beloved’s killer. He’ll go to extreme measures to avoid proof of his guilt. That includes silencing me.

“There’s a new battle brewing with The Order. We expect them tae strike at any time. When they do, Thane and Sin will be called out tae deal with the aftermath. That’s when we make our move.”

* * *

I’m face down on our bed. Sin’s body is stretched over mine, pressing my front into the mattress. He’s kissing my neck while caressing my body. Goosebumps erupt on the top of my head and spread downward. My back arches as though it has a mind of its own. The ways he can get my body to respond is amazing.

His mouth moves over my ear and he taps my hip. “Lift.”

He shoves two large pillows beneath my stomach and pushes my legs forward so I’m kneeling with my head down. “This is new.”

“I’m going to fuck you like this.”

He’s still not made good on his dirty deed promise. Is this going to be him fulfilling that?

He begins at my shoulders and scatters kisses down my back until he reaches my bottom. The bed dips as he grasps the back of my thighs and pushes them up and apart. For a moment, I almost wonder if he’s going to stand me on … Ohh!

 

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My thought is interrupted and I go completely stupid when he rubs me where he never has before. Is this what he meant by dirty? Because it is. And I like it.

He licks my clit and drags his tongue through my center. That, and the massage of his finger at the same time, is overwhelming. Torturous, even. It’s simultaneously more than I can stand while I want to beg for more.

Sin’s phone rings and vibrates on the nightstand.

No. No. No. Not right now.

Everything he’s doing to me stops. And I’m left hanging. It’s horrid.

“I have to take this.”

“I know.”

He growls as he leans over me to retrieve his phone. “Aye. Got it. I’ll be there in twenty.”

I roll my hips, rubbing my bottom against his hard cock. “Make it thirty.”

He drops the phone on the bed and reaches over into the top drawer of his nightstand. “This will have to be the expedited version since I can only give you ten minutes.”

I hear the buzz of a once very familiar sound. “I found this in your knickers drawer. I think we can put it to good use.”

It’s my bullet.

His long arm reaches around to press it between my legs as he thrusts into me from behind. He’s stroking my G-spot on the inside as the bullet vibrates against my clit. It’s ridiculous how fast I come. Record time. While that’s good, it’s not because it’s over far too soon.

The onset of my orgasm ignites his. It always does.

He burrows into me hard and fast, shoving my head against the headboard. “Sorry.”

He may be apologetic but he doesn’t stop, not until he has completely emptied himself inside me.

His body is stretched over mine, his chest and stomach wet with sweat so his skin sticks to me. “Don’t go.”

He kisses the back of my neck and I know it’s because he’s going to get up. “I have to, Bonny. It’s Fellowship business. And it’s serious—not just a brother being charged by the authorities.”

Isobel predicted this. “What has happened?”

“The Order went into Duncan’s after closing. They tried to take Lorna and Greer but didn’t realize Leith was in the back. He came out when he heard their screams and shot two of them dead. The other one escaped.”

Three Order members thought they were preying upon the weakness of two helpless women. They seem to have a habit of doing that. “Lorna and Greer are okay?”

“Aye. A bit shaken up, though.”

“What would’ve happened if Leith hadn’t been there?” I know for a fact that he isn’t always around when Lorna and the girls close up.

“The women of this brotherhood are vulnerable to attack. Has anyone ever considered it beneficial to teach them basic self-defense?”

“We protect our women.”

I have to call bullshit on this sexist thinking. “The duty of a good shepherd is to protect his flock but wouldn’t a better shepherd teach his sheep how to become lions when attacked?”

“My wife, the advocate supporting equal arse-kicking skills for all.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I think you do. Often.”

He kisses me quickly. “Not this time, Bonny. I like where you’re going with this. Make it happen. You have my full support.”

We get out of bed at the same time and I stand in the bathroom entrance while he dresses, my heart pounding.

This doesn’t seem a likely retaliation for Sin killing Grieve’s son. I’d expect something much bigger. But I’m not bringing it up. I don’t want Sin distracted when he goes out.

“What are you going to do?”

“Not sure yet. They came onto Leith’s turf. I suppose I’ll let him decide.”

I’m aware of Sin’s experience in such things but it still makes me uneasy. And I’m nervous for Leith.

“Is Leith prepared for something like this?” I wasn’t aware he had any experience with this side of The Fellowship.

“He can hold his own. And he has me covering him.”

Leith is one of Sin’s best friends. I know he’d take a bullet for him but I don’t plan on being a young widow. “You have a wife now. That means you have to be more careful than ever before.”

He grins up at me as he slides his gun into his harness. “Aye. And I’ll soon have a baby on the way. I want to be around for that as well.”

“I know Lorna would appreciate you looking out for Leith.”

“I’m sure she would.”

“Leith loves Lorna. I don’t know how you’ve not seen what’s clear as day.”

“He may, but I’m not sure he can ever return her affection.”

“Why not? Has something happened?”

“There’s a lot of history there.”

We don’t have time to discuss it now but I plan to revisit this later.

He comes to me and grasps my upper arms. He kisses the top of my head. “I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you too. Happy two-month anniversary.”

“Best two months ever.”

I put my arms around his middle and squeeze. “Come back to me safely.”

“Always.”

I go to the window and watch him pull away before texting Isobel. A moment later, she calls. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

* * *

“I’m not used tae doing things like this so we should probably go over the details one last time.”

 

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Of course, Isobel has never done anything like this. She’s the wife of a leader. They’d never allow her to dirty her hands this way.

I give Isobel one last run-through of everything we’re going to do. “Think you got it?”

“As good as I’m going to, I’m afraid.”

We park the car at the village’s market and walk to her cottage. We creep into Cameron Ewart’s backyard. I pick the lock and spray the door hinges with lubricant before pushing it open. I go first, creeping through the house with Isobel following close behind.

I shine my flashlight on the cracked plaster walls. Some are nearly a half-inch in diameter. I missed those during my first visit. What a dump.

If Abram’s going to take a lover, he needs to provide for her better than this. Cheap bastard.

I recall the creaking boards in the ancient floor—and find new ones. I motion for Isobel to step over them while making our way through the house.

The woman is asleep so I quickly place a strip of tape over her eyes. Yeah. It’s gonna hurt like hell coming off. She’ll probably lose half her eyelashes and brows. I’m sorry for that but it’s the best way to keep her from seeing us.

She lets out a blood-curdling scream and comes up fighting. I restrain her in a chokehold.

I nod at Isobel, her cue to begin the speech she’s memorized. “We’re not going tae hurt ye, Cameron. I only want tae ask ye some questions.”

The fighting ceases. “What do you want?”

“I need some information about Abram,” Isobel says.

“I don’t know who Abram is.” Perfect. He’s convinced her to lie about knowing him. This was expected but this woman needs to understand something. I have ways of making people talk.

“He came here three nights ago. Ye had sex with him.”

She laughs. “I have sex with a lot of men.”

“I’m only interested in knowing about one of them. Abram.”

“I never get their real names.”

Isobel and I look at one another and I shrug. I mouth, “Prostitute?”

Isobel shrugs back. “He was here on Tuesday night just before six o’clock. Fifties. Tall. Muscular. Salt-and-pepper hair. Blue eyes. Always wears an expensive suit.”

“Aye. Nice-looking older guy. He always likes it rough. What do you want to know about him?”

“Describe the scar on his right leg.”

She laughs. “Are you kidding me?”

“That’s what I need tae know about, Miss Ewart.”

“Look. I can tell you his dick is long, thick, and hangs to the left. But I can’t tell you a thing about his leg.”

I may have just vomited in my mouth a little.

“The scar would be very significant. You can’t miss it,” Isobel says.

“He never takes off his trousers. He makes me get on my hands and knees on the bed so he can do me from behind. Every time.”

He isn’t getting naked with her and rolling around in her bed. I’d bet money that’s because she’s a prostitute. He’s only interested in one thing, and it doesn’t involve cuddling afterward.

It’s clear we’re getting nothing from her but that doesn’t mean she can’t help me in the future. We came financially prepared for such a case.

Isobel takes a stack of cash from her coat pocket. “I’m leaving five hundred pounds and a contact number on the nightstand. Confirm the scar and ye’ll get another thousand. Get a photograph and there’s five thousand pounds in it for ye. Think ye can manage that?”

“I can damn sure try for that kind of money.”

I release her and nod to Isobel. It’s time to move.

“Call the number when ye have proof.”

* * *

I’m in deep shit. Sin is sitting in the living room when I come through the front door. That’s not fantastic. What the hell is he doing back so soon? I couldn’t have been gone more than an hour.

“Where the fuck have you been, Bonny?” he yells. I jerk because I’m so startled by the authority of his voice. He’s never yelled at me. I don’t care for it.

He won’t approve but I won’t lie to my husband about what I was doing. “I was following a lead.”

“A lead that required you to slip away in the middle of the night after I was called away to deal with a crisis?”

I might as well get it over with. “I knew you wouldn’t approve because it involves Abram.”

He holds up my phone. “You left this here.”

“I didn’t want a record of my whereabouts in case Abram is tracking it.”

“Do you have any idea what has gone through my head while I’ve been waiting? I have a slew of men out searching for you. I’m relieved you’re back but now I have to call them off. They’re going to know you slipped out of the house to do something while I was away. Do you know how that looks?”

I appear deceitful. And I guess I am. I never considered that because I didn’t count on being caught. “I’m sorry.”

He comes to me and wraps his arms around me tightly. “I decided it was a bad idea to leave you alone so I sent one of my men back to stay with you. I lost it when he called to say you weren’t here. I thought The Order had taken you.”

I cradle his face in my hands. “I’m fine.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “I’ve never been so fucking scared in all my life. Ever.”

 

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“I’m really sorry.”

He pulls away and is looking at me like he might want to give me a good shake. “You’re part of The Fellowship now. You can’t do shit like this. I don’t even want to think about what The Order might do if they got their hands on you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m tired of hearing you say that.”

“I keep saying it because it’s true.” And because he ignores it.

“You’re my wife. I want to be the one to take care of you.”

Why can’t he see that he does? “You do. Every single day.”

He sighs. “Tell me about this lead that was so important.”

I reiterate the details of the night I followed Abram and tonight’s events.

“Good God, Bonny. I can’t believe you involved my mum.”

“I turned to the only person I could.”

He looks hurt. “That’s not true.”

“It is. You don’t want to hear what I have to say when it comes to Abram.”

“I’m asking you to please not do anything like this behind my back again. If you have something you want to investigate, come to me. We’ll do it together. That’s how I want to do everything in our lives. Always.”

I have Debra’s services. I think I’d be wise to utilize her for such things as dealing with Cameron Ewart.

He kisses me hard. “Be in that bed naked and waiting for me when I come back.”

I love when he tells me that.

He grabs my ass and squeezes hard. “Be prepared, Mrs. Breckenridge. You have penance to pay.”

Chapter Sixteen

Sinclair Breckenridge

We saw Dr. Paschall a week ago. He assures us we’ve made the right decision in moving forward with the IVF. I hope so. This is too big to screw up.

It’s day one of Bleu’s fertility injections. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror with the bottom of her T-shirt rolled up and tucked in the top of her bra. She’s holding a syringe in one hand while the other pinches up a patch of skin on her stomach. “You’re going to have to do this for me.”

Oh hell no, I’m not. “You’re the one they taught. I don’t know how to give a shot.”

“I can’t stand the thought of driving this needle into my own skin.”

“I’ll call Jamie.”

“I’m taking these three times a day. Jamie can’t come here every time my injection is due. You’re gonna need to man up and do this for me just as I did for you.”

I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about. “Just as you did what for me?”

“I gave you your morphine injection.”

“When was that?”

“After the endurance.”

I had no idea. “Well, you owed me that much after I was nearly beaten to death for you.”

Oh God. She has the attitude face. It came on as quickly as watching a background change mid performance of a play. “And you owe me this if you want me to have babies for you.”

And she has the drama to accompany it. “Don’t act like having babies is only for me. You want the cute little buggers too.”

She softens. “I know.”

She’s done this before. She should be used to it. “Who gave you the injections when you did your other retrieval?”

“My sister—who is a registered nurse. Ellison popped it in there like it was nothing and went about her way. No big deal.”

“Well, it’s a big deal to me.”

“It’s really not. I thought it would bother me giving you the morphine but I realized it was nothing after it was over.”

“Then do it if there’s nothing to it.”

She groans loudly. “It’s different giving it to yourself.”

“Fine.” I go to her and hold out my hand. “Give me the damn thing.”

I pinch her skin and gather my courage before inserting the needle into her abdomen. “I can’t believe you have to do this three times a day for two weeks.”

“Well, believe it, you big ol’ baby. Fourteen days times three. That’s forty-two injections, not counting the Lupron and HCG. So get prepared, Dr. B. You’re going to be a pro before this is over.”

She’s taking way too much pleasure in this. “I don’t want to be a pro. There’s a reason Jamie’s the doctor and I’m the lawyer. Speaking of which, what are you planning to do about this when I’m working?”

“I can run by the office when it’s due.”

I won’t always be available. “What about when I’m in court?”

“I’m sure Isobel wouldn’t mind helping me.”

“Have you told her?”

“No, but I will if I need to. Have you told anyone?”

“My father brought up the heir topic. I told him we were trying, minus the method in which we would make it happen. There’s no need for them to know that part unless they have to.”

I’m not telling her he asked if she was aware of her other job—producing an heir. That would only piss her off.

I wrap my arms around her from behind. “I need to go so I’m not late for work.”

She twists in my arms for a goodbye kiss. “See you at one for my next injection.”

“Today only. We’ll need to work something else out for the others.”

Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? I’ll give her every single one of those injections if that’s what she wants from me. I owe her that much.

 

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* * *

The next two weeks are chaotic. Needles. Medications. More needles. Hormones. Volatile mood swings. If I didn’t know the side effects of the hormones ahead of time, I’d think Bleu hated me.

Dr. Paschall warned us that the severity of Bleu’s syndrome might make her a more likely candidate for discomfort. She doesn’t mention it but I suspect she’s in pain. She’s turned me down for sex more nights than not. That’s not like my sexual butterfly at all.

Bleu flies to London and back every few days for blood work and ultrasounds to monitor her progression. I haven’t been able to go with her so she’s had to experience the majority of this process without me. That’s not what I wanted.

She’s done this before. I suppose that has made this time a little better but I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to be with her every step of the way. It’s another example of how she takes care of herself when I, her husband, should.

But I’m here with her now. We’re at the clinic for retrieval day so we’re together. No negotiations.

Bleu has been sedated for the procedure. I’m rather enjoying our conversation about purple lollipops floating in the air when they come to take her back for the retrieval.

They have me wait in a holding area. It feels like she’s been gone a long time but it’s only thirty minutes when I check the clock.

“Mr. Breckenridge. We’re ready for your contribution.” Contribution. That’s what they’re calling it these days.

They’re asking for my sperm. I’m guessing that’s a good sign. It must mean they were able to retrieve viable eggs.

I follow the clinic employee down the hall. I’m left in a small room with one assignment—jack off into a cup. Shouldn’t be too hard considering the dry spell I’ve had with Bleu.

I double—and then triple—check the label on the cup for accuracy before I do the deed. We can’t afford a mix-up with this.

I wait at the collection window for someone from the lab. No way I’m throwing this in the window and leaving. I need to see it properly follow the chain of custody.

A woman appears and I hold up the bag. “My contribution.” It’s the term they used so I’m going with that. I doubt they’d appreciate me calling it what I usually do.

I’m taken to where Bleu is recovering. She’s still sleeping so I sit at her bedside. I bring her hand up for a kiss. “I love you, Bonny Bleu.”

She shifts slightly when the automatic blood pressure cuff squeezes. She lazily opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Hi, beautiful.”

She grins. “Hi.”

I get up and sit on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“A little crampy but otherwise okay.” Her speech is slow.

They must’ve given Bleu some good drugs. She’s barely stirred. “You’ve been sleeping like the dead.”

“I’m very tired.”

“I see that. I booked a hotel so you can rest until our flight this evening.”

“Always so thoughtful. You take such good care of me.”

Her eyes appear heavy. I think she’s on the verge of dozing off again so I stroke my hand over her cheek. “Dr. Paschall came by. He said he was able to get ten eggs.”

Her eyes pop open. “Ten? That’s a really good number for me.”

“Aye. Dr. Paschall was very pleased.”

“You gave them your sperm?”

“Aye. It felt like every woman in the place was looking at me when I turned in my cup.”

She laughs. “I’m sure they were looking at you and thinking how much they would’ve enjoyed helping you produce what was in the cup.”

Bleu’s nurse comes into the small recovery area. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Breckenridge?”

“Fine. Tired. A little crampy.”

“All normal things.” She removes the blood pressure cuff from Bleu’s arm. “I have your discharge teaching instructions.”

Bleu’s eyes are closed again so the nurse looks to me. “Dr. Paschall wants to see her back on Friday morning for the embryo transfer.”

Wow. This is happening. “We’ll be here.”

* * *

It’s Thursday, my last day of work for the week. I’ll be in London with Bleu tomorrow for our embryo transfer. I can’t believe it. Dr. Paschall is going to insert two fertilized eggs into Bleu’s womb tomorrow. She could officially become pregnant in less than a day.

I’m finished and shutting down my computer when Abram bursts into my office. No knock. “That motherfuckin’ Order just raided our transport truck—the one carrying our supply for the Irish.”

Oh hell. “How much did they get?”

“Everything! All the firearms. All the ammunition. And they killed our three men making the transport.”

Un-fucking-believable. “How could they have known?”

“I don’t know but it seems there’s a songbird within our midst. Until I find out who’s singing, I trust no one.”

I run my hands through my hair. “This is a fine mess.”

“Aye. We have to get those guns back or we risk our new relationship with The Guild, our new Irish comrades.”

It’s not an alliance we can afford to lose. “Aye. I prefer to call them friend than foe.”

“We have two days to recover the firearms. I’ve organized a meeting for all the brotherhood to join at nine tonight.”