Cease Fire (Blackbridge Security 9)

I chuckle, making the bird cackle like a witch as well.

“If you’re in here to ask me about Jules, I’ll tell you the very same thing I told Finn about Kendall. If she wants you to know something then she’ll tell you.”

“What?” I jerk my head back, becoming quickly suspicious that he’d even say something like that to me.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? You hooked up with your lifelong crush and now you want to know every detail of her life?”

I shake my head. “I know a lot more about Jules Warren than you ever will. I’ve known her for more than half my life.”

He raises an eyebrow in challenge, and I suddenly wonder if this is how you get information out of Wren. A slow smile spreads across my face, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t read the reaction for exactly what it means.

“Tricky fucker,” Wren mutters, a slow smile on his face as he shakes a finger at me.

“What?” I ask, playing coy.

“I’m not saying shit. You’re purposely trying to get info out of me.”

“Am not. I just didn’t want to go to my office. Plus, I don’t think Jules has secrets. She’s pretty open about her life.”

To the point sometimes, I want to grind my damn teeth in her presence. I’ve sat and listened to her discuss relationships, health problems, even trips she’s taken for work, in minute detail. Before I ruined our friendship my freshman year in college, I would sit around and listen intently. Now, I try to ignore her because she was never talking to me, just around me. I can’t let what happened between us this past weekend make me think that’s going to change. We’re not suddenly friends again even though what happened between us was leagues above what made me realize all those years ago that we’d never be together.

“Every woman has secrets,” Wren says as he turns toward his bank of computers.

“And sweet, sweet pussy,” Puff squawks.

Wren and I both chuckle at the stupid bird.

“I have to take this,” Wren says as an electronic sound comes out of his computer.

“Hey, babe. I’m not alone.”

Whitney’s face is on the screen, Wren having connected a video chat.

“Show me your tits!” Puff yells.

Whitney, used to the crude bird by now, just shakes her head with a small smile.

“I can call you later,” she says.

“Did you need something?” Wren asks, his back straightening when all she does is bite her lip and nod her head.

Wren turns in my direction. “It was good chatting with you. Get the fuck out.”

I huff a laugh as I turn toward the door.

“Good seeing you, Whitney.”

“You, too, Kit.”

I close the door behind me, but not before Wren whispers, “Show me that pretty pink pussy, baby.”

There’s a good chance Puff Daddy is scarred for life with the things he’s witnessed happening between Wren and Whitney. Honestly, I’m not too sure that he isn’t suffering from animal abuse for the same reason. Our IT specialist and his woman have a very wild and adventurous sex life, and Puff gives all of us the details despite us never asking for them.

I’m left walking to my office, wondering if Wren’s declaration of all women having secrets was just a general observance or if he really knows some of Jules’s secrets.

Chapter 8

Jules

My hands are shaking. Heart racing. Tears blurring my vision.

But my question was answered before I lost my vision.

I squeeze my eyes shut, both elated and more terrified than I’ve ever been.

I doubted what I knew in my soul to be true, but the proof of what I’ve done is lined up in a little, neat row on the bathroom sink. Seven pieces of proof that the plan worked, and I’m going to hell for what I’ve done.

A sob bubbles up from my throat, and I have to sit on the toilet because my head is swimming. I’m racked with guilt, but somehow also relieved at the same time. It’s the weirdest feeling I’ve ever had. Leaning forward, I press my forehead into my knees, having no damn clue what my next step will be.

“Holy. Shit.”

I snap my head up, face puffy, with tears flowing down my cheeks, but Beth isn’t looking at me. Her eyes are locked on the bathroom counter.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Seems that way,” I manage through my tears.

Her eyes go wide as saucers as she looks between me and the seven tests I’ve taken over the last twenty-four hours.

“Last we spoke, you weren’t exactly keen on the idea of spending so much money on IVF. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a donor.” Her face falls. “You didn’t talk to me about this.”

My breathing is growing more rapid yet shallow, and there’s a very real chance I’m going to pass out due to a lack of oxygenated air.

I could tell her. Right now is my opportunity, but I just can’t. She already looks heartbroken for what she thinks actually happened.