Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

“This has been bothering me all night.”

He shoved a hand through his hair, further mussing the strategically tousled locks. Momentarily distracting me. He was breathtaking at any given second of the day, but when fury tore through him his strong features darkened and raw intensity exuded from him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said.

“When did he deliver the laptop?”

“While we were at the retreat, after I had the baby. Ethan brought the hard drive here, to Amano, who locked it in your safe. Guess he didn’t mention it?”

“Amano? No. He wouldn’t at the time, when I was wrapped up in the fact that you’d just given birth.”

“Yeah, he was a bit worried—like how could a Bax be born prematurely?” I pulled in a sharp breath, pain lancing through me. Something could have gone horrifically wrong with my delivery. Our child could have died. That did not sit well in my heart or my gut.

“Ari. Baby.” Dane gave me a long look, then asked, “Is that what’s going on between the two of you?”

“The two of who?”

“You and Amano.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Did you freak out that you might be going into labor six weeks early and that’s why you told Amano not to call me?”

“I—” Had nothing to say to that.

“Ari.” He carefully gripped my shoulders. “Did you really put all that pressure on yourself? Thinking if something were to go wrong that it’d be your fault?”

Tears prickled the backs of my eyes.

“Answer me,” he gently insisted.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I just … I…” My eyes closed for a moment. Then snapped open, a bit misty. “Maybe. Yes.”

“Baby.” He pulled me to him and held on tight.

I fought back tears. I wasn’t prepared for this. It wasn’t something I’d put substantial thought into. My water had broken, I’d been rushed to the retreat, and Amsel had been born.

Sure, I’d been stressed out over having him early. But Dr. Preston had been more than forthcoming about all the risks, hazards, what have you, and I’d not felt as though I were floundering in the dark, uncertain of my son’s health.

But Dane did have a point. I had put a lot of pressure on myself. That was moot at the moment, though, no matter how it percolated in Dane’s head. His thoughts were likely centered on his not having been there to help or offer support. A massive conflict to overcome on his end. One I fully understood yet had no idea how to broach.

So I let it go for the time being.

“Back to the hard drive,” I said as I pulled away and swiped tears from my cheeks. “Ethan returned it, but Amano didn’t mention that to you.”

“Chances are he assumed I’d already had discussions with Ethan.”

“But you obviously didn’t.”

“Not until this evening,” Dane confirmed. “He mentioned it repeatedly. In fact, he seemed eager to know if I’d found anything noteworthy in my files.”

“But you haven’t even looked at them.”

“It wasn’t necessary during the trials. Plenty came out in the courtrooms, even prior to my testimonies. I can’t imagine anything on the hard drive could compare. Really, I wasn’t certain of what I’d downloaded or documented, which was why I wasn’t in a huge rush to get my hands on the laptop. It was, literally, just for backup purposes—in the event there might be something worthwhile stored on it.”

I sank into my chair and tapped the end of a pen on the leather blotter. A nervous habit.

Dane asked, “What are you thinking?”