Chapter Five

When I walkinto the bar, it only takes me seconds to find Wren, Evianna, and Cara. They're at a table against the wall with a full view of the door. Smart.

A plate of fries sits untouched in front of them. To anyone else, they look like they're having fun. But at my side, Ripper swears under his breath. He sees it. Cara's hands clenched under the table. Wren's glassy eyes. Evianna twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

"Sir, we don't allow dogs." A guy with bright blue hair tucks a pair of menus under his arm. "You can tie him up outside."

"He stays. You got a problem with that?" I ask, hands on my hips.

"N-no. Sit…anywhere," he stammers and backs away.

Rip shakes his head. "Way to make the kid piss himself, Ry."

"You're welcome." By the time I reach the table, Wren's on her feet, and I wrap my arms around her. "You okay, little bird?" She nods against my chest.

Ripper pulls Cara close, and Charlie presses to her thighs. After a beat, he sidles up to Evianna and noses her hand. The dog is more perceptive than half the guys I went through Basic with.

"We didn't see anyone suspicious on the way here," I say. "But Graham's outside, keeping watch. We're taking a nice leisurely walk down to the waterfront, where West will pick us up. We're not going back to the condo until we're sure we're not being followed.

"You told Dax what happened?" Evianna asks.

"I sent a car to your hotel to pick him up. He's already at the condo, waiting for us."

She sags against the table and swipes at her eyes.

Wren's trembling, and I tip her chin up so I can brush a kiss to her lips. "Rip and Zephyr can go to work on traffic camera footage once we get back. If there's anything to find…"

"I know. They'll find it. We'll find it," she says and straightens her shoulders. "I should have let you come with us. You'd have seen him before I did. But this was the last time…" Tears swim in her eyes.

Fuck. I don't know how to reassure her. Or if I even can. "It's not the last time, sweetheart. For anything. We're having a baby. Not moving to the Arctic Circle. Once we figure out who the guy is and why he was following you, I'll put an end to him—to it."

Wren sniffles once, then offers me a weak smile. "No, you meant him. You forget I know you, Ry."

She's not wrong.

Outside, Graham takes Evianna's arm. The kid's a damn good actor, staring down at her like she's his entire world. I'd feel better if Wyatt were with us too, but he took Hope to her physical therapy session an hour ago.

Ripper, Cara, and Charlie take the lead. The German Shepherd is on high alert, feeding off Rip's anxiety. The shelter he volunteers at didn't know where the dog came from when he showed up a couple of years ago with a mangled ear and no chip, but I'd bet a hell of a lot of money he was trained as a police or military dog.

Evianna laughs at something Graham says, though her shoulders are approximately half a centimeter from her ears. I can't focus on Wren. Not completely. Not and scan for threats. But I feel her worry.

She doesn't spook easily. Never has. So whoever the asshole is? He's dead.

"You're thinking so hard, I'm surprised there isn't a thought bubble floating over your head." She digs her fingers into my side. "Spit it out."

"Not yet." This conversation can't happen out on the street. Or without Dax. "When we're home. With the door locked."

"You're not making me feel any better," she mutters. "And the door is always locked."

Well, fuck. I've always been shit at reassuring her. Reassuring anyone. And we're about to have a baby.

Our daughter will need me to tell her she's safe. Protected. Loved.

What if I can't do it? What if I try and she doesn't believe me?

Wren glances up at me, and damn. She can see it. Everything. My worry. The panic that hasn't disappeared since the day she told me she was pregnant.

"Breathe, Ry. If I can, you can."

For her, I can try. But we're still two blocks from the waterfront. I haven't seen anyone following us, and my phone peeks out of my back pocket, recording everything behind us. Rip has a camera clipped to his belt buckle to capture the street ahead of us. We didn't have time to fit Graham with a device, but he's perceptive well beyond his years. He might not have my memory—yet—but he's getting there.

My phone buzzes, and I check the screen.

West: I'm in the Pike Place garage. Slot B-23. All clear down here.

"Sampson's ready for us," I say. "Let's go home."

* * *

Twenty minutes later,we're in the elevator up to the eighth floor of the building I bought when Ripper decided to move to Seattle. The security is beyond top of the line. The garage needs a keycard, fingerprint scan, and an eighteen-digit access code. The elevator uses a second access code, a voice print, and—to reach the sixth, seventh, and eighth floors—a retinal scan.

The six of us—plus Charlie—ride all the way to the top. As soon as the elevator doors open, Wren rushes ahead of me to our condo. "I really have to pee," she says, a bright red flush to her cheeks. "I didn't want to risk going at the bar."

I don't say a word as she beelines for the bathroom.

Dax, who's been in my living room for the past half an hour, stands. "Evianna?" Behind his tinted glasses, his eyes search her out, though I doubt he can tell her and Cara apart. They're almost the same height.

Yet he crosses to her without hesitation, and Evianna wraps her arms around his waist.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Fine. The guy…he was just watching. Creepy, but he didn't approach us."

"Watching all of you? Or Wren?" Dax asks. From the edge to his voice, he's barely holding it together. So am I, if I'm honest. But I can't lose my shit. Not now.

"I don't know," Evianna says. "We stopped to ‘window shop' a couple of times, and he seemed like he was focused on Wren, but we stuck close together, so it was hard to tell."

Wren trudges back into the room, Pixel winding around her ankles and yipping the whole way. As soon as she sinks into the recliner, the pup scrambles up next to her and settles across her lap. She twines her fingers through the dog's curls. "We got a photo of him. Kind of."

"What?" Dax, Rip, and I ask in tandem.

"I made Cara take some selfies of the three of us. She got a video too." Pulling out her phone, she unlocks it and offers it to me.

Rip reaches over and plucks the device from my hand. "Grainy. But workable."

"I sent it to my system when we were at the bar. Facial rec should already be working on it." She stifles a yawn. "But Rip could start running it against the traffic cameras. See if the guy has been anywhere near the condo in the past few weeks. I haven't seen him before today. At least not that I know of."

"He looks…" I peer over Rip's shoulder. "Afghan. Pakistani. Maybe Uzbek."

"Fuck." Dax stalks over to the window and presses his hands to the glass. Sunlight streams into the main room this time of day, and he can feel it. Maybe even see it—a little. "So why is he here? He better not have any fucking friends in town."

"Wouldn't that be worse?" Wren asks. "If he doesn't have any reason to be here? Because then…he's here for me. Or you."

"There's no fucking way he's here for us." I straighten my shoulders and run a hand over my bald head. "Because we don't exist."

"I do." Dax turns back to us. "Second Sight is in my name. You and Rip are ghosts, but I've been out in the open this whole time. What if this asshole is related to the guys in Turkey."

"He's not. Trust me. Trust West and his…methods." I cut my gaze to Rip. There's no way I'm going to tell Dax how that op went down in front of him. He's better now. But I worry every goddamn day that one bad memory will send him spiraling.

"For fuck's sake. Will you stop looking at me like that?" Ripper pushes off the wall and stalks over to me. "You want me to take on more work for Hidden Agenda? I'm going to have to hear this shit. I can handle it, Ry. And if I can't, that's on me to let you know."

"He's right," Dax says quietly. "You and Wren are going to have a kid any day now. Pritchard has so much work for Zephyr, he'll be hiring soon. We need Rip. Unless you've figured out a way to clone Wren…"

My little bird barely manages to stifle her yawn. "Flippin' flapjacks. That would be the best thing ever. I'd be able to sleep. Even with a newborn."

"You're exhausted." I kneel next to the recliner and cup her cheek. "I'm putting you to bed."

"You'll do no such thing," she says sharply, but leans into my touch like I'm the only thing keeping her upright. "I can make it to the bedroom on my own."

She must be completely wiped out to agree with me. "I know you can, sweetheart." Lowering my voice, I press a kiss to her temple. "Let me do this. Please."

With a nod, she lets me scoop the dog off her lap and help her up. "Evianna, lunch tomorrow? Here?"

"Name the time." Evianna links her fingers with Dax's. "We'll be here."

* * *

In our bedroom,I pull back the blankets, then drop to one knee to help her off with her flipflops. "Purple. I like it."

"Had to do something that didn't scream, ‘Mom,'" she says. "If I weren't worried about the chemicals, I'd dye my hair purple too."

God, I wish I knew what to say to her. To promise neither of us will lose ourselves to being parents. That we'll still be "Wren and Ry." Not just "Mom and Dad."

But it's been my second—or third—biggest fear. Behind something happening to her or the baby, or our daughter taking one look at me and screaming her head off for days because she thinks I'm a monster.

Even if I did have the right words, though, now isn't the time. She's already curled around her body pillow, her eyelids drooping.

"I want to give the seventh floor to Dax and Evianna."

"What?" She pushes up on an elbow, her eyes only slightly more open now. "Like…for them to move out here?"

"Not full time." I glance back at the door, wishing I'd thought to bring this up before now. "Their lives are in Boston. Evianna's mom, Beacon Hill Technologies… But they're out here every four to six weeks. And every time, Dax has to manage the hotel, a car service, restaurants…"

"The Five Points remodeled," she says. "Evianna told me today. Dax hates it. Nothing's in the same place, half the housekeeping staff left, things keep getting moved in their room… It'll be nice having them here. Close by. They can set things up however they want and it'll always be the same. And they won't need a car service on standby until midnight just so we can have dinner."

I lean down and kiss her. If we had more time, I'd peel off her tunic and show her how much I need her. How much I need us.

"I love you, Wren. So fucking much. I hope you know that."

"I do." Her lips part, and her breathy sigh has my dick straining against my briefs. "Make sure we have at least a couple of hours alone tonight, okay?"

"I promise."