* * *
BRODY
I shifted in the bed, my hand resting against Lola’s protruding stomach, and I couldn't stop the sleepy smile that spread across my face. From the moment I’d bought this house, I’d waited to wake up next to Lola.
I opened my eyes and pressed my chest closer to her back. The light was streaming in between the gaps in the curtains, but my alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so that meant I had time to—
The vibration of my cell caught me off guard, so I rolled over, hoping it wouldn't wake Lola up. She’d taken a nap after we ate Chinese takeout with the guys last night, but she hadn’t woken up. Not when they left, and not even when I carried her upstairs. I’d managed to get her leggings off of her, and that was about it.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, staring down at my cell and the number I didn’t recognize. “Brody Easton,” I answered.
“Brody,” Ford’s voice rang over the line. “Can you talk?”
I turned my head and glanced at Lola’s still sleeping body. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I said, “Two minutes,” to Ford and slipped out of bed. I pulled on a pair of shorts and walked out of our bedroom, past the door that would become the nursery, and down the stairs that sat in the middle of the hallway. The cold, wood floor seeped into the soles of my feet, and I winced.
“I’m back.” I walked into the kitchen and toward the coffeepot. “What’s up?”
“Something is happening,” he rushed out, his voice on edge.
“Okay.” I frowned, wondering what he was trying to tell me.
“I can feel it in my gut.” I could hear him inhale as he pulled in a breath. “And I got this letter.”
“A letter?” I asked, pouring a cup of coffee and leaving it black. It was the way I preferred it.
“Yeah, it says…wait, I’ll take a picture and send it to you.” I heard some clicking over the line, and then a new message popped up. I opened it, and read the typed-out letter: “Traitors always get what’s coming to them.”
“Shit.” I glanced around the kitchen, trying to piece it all together. “This means you’re definitely a target,” I told him. “Are you safe where you are?”
“I think so”—his voice was lower now—“but I’m not sure I trust anyone here.”
I shook my head and leaned against the counter. “The fact that you’re not sure means you don’t.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “You should come back.”
“What?” Some shuffling sounded over the line. “I have four months left in the academy. I can’t just take off.”
He was right. He was trying to start his new life, and now I was telling him he should come back. That wasn’t the plan, but it was the only way I could think of to keep him safe. That or…
“I’ll talk to the guys. I might be able to get Ryan a position in the academy while you’re there. That way you’ll have some protection.”
“I can look after myself you know,” he grunted at the same time footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“I know you can.” The footsteps came closer and then Lola appeared. Her hair was a mess, and her T-shirt just covered her ass and bump, but her legs on full display. Thank god Cade had stayed at Moira’s last night.
“Morning,” her soft voice rang out, her sleepy smile greeting me.
“That Lola?” Ford asked.
“Yeah,” I answered him, not focusing on anything but Lola as she walked toward me. She wrapped her arms around my waist, rested her head on my bare chest, and stared up at me. “It’s Ford,” I told her.
Her eyes widened, and I wasn’t sure what she was thinking from the nervous look on her face. “Can I talk to him?”
I nodded and handed her the cell, not caring that there were more important issues I needed to be dealing with. Ford had been a part of her life for a long time, and she hadn’t seen him since she’d left Hut’s house. I’d filled her in on everything that had happened and what he was doing to better himself, but there was nothing like hearing it from the horse's mouth.
She pressed the cell to her ear and greeted, “We never did get that poker rematch.” Her laugh batted off the walls, and I couldn’t stop staring at her. This house was meant to hold her laughter. It was meant to be the place she was happiest, and now, seeing her standing in the middle of our kitchen, walking around and opening the refrigerator that held Cade’s school schedule and a few other notes, she was right at home. Our home.
Footsteps pounded outside a second before the front door opened, and Cade shouted, “Dad?”
Lola’s eyes widened, and she glanced down at her legs. Legs I hadn’t been able to stop looking at. “Shit,” she whispered.