Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
The last part may be a stretch since I don’t exactly chat with her on a daily basis.
His shoulders slump and his expression changes. It’s obvious he wants to say more. After a few seconds of awkward silence, his face fills with resignation. “I’m glad you’re happy, Willow.”
Whoa, talk about mercurial shifts.
“Thank you, Joseph.”
His eyes go over my shoulder and his body stiffens.
“Ma’am, you okay?”
Great, if Joseph gets me evicted from Target, I will kick his ass. I spin, trying to paste a smile when my ankle protests and a whimper escapes.
He takes a step forward, his gaze forceful, taking in the situation.
At the sight of him, I inhale sharply. He’s an enormous man, dressed in all black, the fabric of his shirt strained across his massive chest and arms. This guy is not your typical employee. Something about him is familiar, but before I can pinpoint why, he slices his threatening eyes to Joseph.
“Are you bothering this lady?”
“N-n-no, I’m fine.”
“What happened to your ankle?”
“I tripped over my cart—such a klutz.” I wave nonchalantly, trying to sound cheery.
He’s not convinced, staring me down.
“Really, it’s all okay.” I twist back, pretending this was a friendly encounter. “Bye, Joseph, have a nice day.”
“Take care of yourself, Willow. Be happy.”
The stranger watches him walk away then dips his chin, following behind. The nagging feeling returns that I’ve seen that man before.
My ankle throbs, the area around the bone starting to swell. Guess I’m adding an ankle brace to my shopping list.
I hobble over to the first-aid area, passing through the feminine products. Automatically, I reach for a box of tampons, figuring it’s a good idea to stock up.
Then I stop dead in my tracks.
My mind races, mentally retracing the last month… the last six weeks… the last two months.
When did I have my last period?
Oh my God, was it…? When Talon was at his reserve weekend?
No, no, no… this can’t be.
“I lost the battle of wills and the man has super sperm that outwitted my birth control.”
Jewls’ words bounce around my brain. I thought it was comical at the time.
Super sperm… Could it be a real thing?
I take my birth control religiously. It’s never failed me before.
Then again, I also wasn’t having sex multiple times a day with Talon Simms.
A man who could make women pregnant with just a wink and a smirk.
Not to mention his body, the tattoos, the way he kisses…
Get it together, Willow! Now is not the time to fantasize about your possible fiancé and his stratospheric abilities to— STOP!
Let’s think logically. Do I have any symptoms?
No…
Unless you count my uncontrollable emotions, the multi-day hangover and vomiting from Shayla’s shots, the gag-worthy, stomach-turning reaction to certain smells like those women earlier, the craving for Talon’s touch.
Nope—no symptoms at all.
Who am I kidding?
My eyes go to the family planning section, the row of pregnancy tests taunting me.
All thoughts of the last ten minutes fly out of my head as I snatch one of every brand, tossing them into the cart.
Then for good measure, I grab double.
Without taking the first test, my body already knows the answer. But my brain will need all the proof.
35
TALON
“You got it?”
One, two, three, four…
“Do you fucking have it?” My patience fails.
“We have it,” Rand confirms. “Systems are down for ninety seconds.”
“Keep alert, Marines. Watch your six and let’s get our fucking guys.” Blade flicks his fingers for me to lead since I’m technically senior on this mission.
The night vision goggles allow us to approach the house silently, but even without them, I have memorized every inch of this property.
It’s been a week since the guys arrived, and it’s a fucking miracle none of us have snapped. Waiting on our asses isn’t our specialty.
As suspected, Robbie, Finn, and James discovered the breadcrumbs Max left indicating a leak in his team.
As so, our rescue mission turned into an all-out diplomatic fucking nightmare. We were commanded to hold back and let the technical teams uncover the depth of Ricardo’s network.
Robbie worked with a special group inside the military to infiltrate every piece of communication on the system Max’s team is using.
What we didn’t expect was the guy I snatched from the club that night wasn’t a loyal henchman.
Eli Gage.
A Goddamn, fucking US Special Agent working undercover.
He’s part of an anti-terrorism unit that’s been working the area for two years. He’d successfully penetrated his way into Ricardo’s crew.
Rand ran his background and it was clean… squeaky clean. The pornographic images and sites on his phone were fake ploys that led a trail back to Eli’s contact in the government.
Within five minutes, we knew we were fucking screwed.
Another part of the diplomatic fucking nightmare.
Without a choice, we added a member to our team. One that none of us trusted, but we had no choice.
Turns out Ricardo is a middleman, but still a valuable asset. He’s got investors operating under guises whose money is being siphoned to terrorist recruitment groups around the area.