SEAL's Pregnant One-Night Stand (Bronte Security Services)

“I suppose.” A freshman was new, and maybe this was Gavin’s first time at this place?

“With the S-Man?” the boy asked. “You missed ’em. They’ve been around and gone. You looking for him, yeah?” He looked Ian up and down.

The kid didn’t seem the brightest. “Yes.” Ian made his voice as clear as he could and nodded just to drive the point home.

“Try Dano’s. Ground-floor apartment in that gray building on 3rd? They were gonna stop there next. Should still be there.”

“Thank you.” Ian was surprised at how helpful the kid was.

“No worries.” The kid saluted him.

This third port of call was more like Ian had been expecting and dreading. It seemed more of an open house, with a few kids in the corridor and the door to the apartment open. The kids here were seniors, if they were still in school, and Ian doubted Dano, whoever he was, lived with his parents.

The cloud of marijuana smoke was thicker than it had been at the other two places he’d tried, and Ian’s heart rate ratcheted up. This was no gang of friends goofing off over a video game or stupid movie. This was the kind of party where someone could really get hurt. He barreled in and peered around.

“Nice ink, bro,” commented a guy, pointing at Ian’s arm. “Full sleeve?”

“I’m not your brother,” Ian replied through gritted teeth. Then, glimpsing the back of a blue-colored head in a chair, he strode over and yanked the chair round.

“Hey!” cried the punky-looking girl in it, throwing up her hands in self-defense. “What the f—”

“Sorry.” Ian let the chair legs drop to the floor. “My mistake. Thought you were someone else.”

He straightened. If this was another wild-goose chase, he’d better find the host and question him. “Where’s Dano?”

“Kitchen.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, her eyes still narrowed at him.

Ian crossed the room to the adjoining one and the first person he saw was his son. “Gavin!” he barked.

Gavin looked up from where he sat in a corner, by the side of an older blond kid in dark glasses who looked oddly familiar. His jaw dropped open at the sight of Ian.

“Get up and get out of there,” Ian ordered. “Now!”

“Hey!” The blond kid put a hand on Gavin’s arm. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, he does. I’m his father.” Ian stared at the kid, and the blond finally backed down, dropping his hand from Gavin. “Gavin, on your feet now, or I will march in there and carry you out.”

A catcall started up at that, only to die away when Ian fixed his gaze on each member of the circle in turn, letting each see the brand of hell he’d rain down on them. A couple of them jumped when Ian said, “Move,” to Gavin.

Hanging his head so his hair covered his eyes, Gavin stepped forward. The blond he seemed to be with jerked his chin at the messenger bag Gavin was wearing across his body, a match for the one the guy had, and Gavin peeled off the bag and handed it over.

“We gotta do this again some time,” the guy called to Gavin as Gavin reached Ian. “Seriously. See you soon, G-Man.”

He gripped his son by the shoulder and frog-marched him from the apartment.

“Not a word.” Ian held up a hand to forestall whatever it was Gavin wanted to let loose. “Not a word until we’re home,” he clarified, almost shaking with the emotions coursing through him and not trusting himself to hold on to his temper if Gavin let out a single sarcastic remark. “You hear me?” He thrust his face close to Gavin’s to make him see how serious things were.

Gavin gave a nod, thankfully looking at least a little cowed. Ian opened the passenger-side door and shouldered Gavin in, then hurried around to the driver’s side before Gavin could get any stupid ideas about taking off. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” he couldn’t help saying as he started the engine with savage jerky movements and got the hell out of there. “Because you will.”

He tried to use the journey home to think best how to handle this, to decide what sort of punishment he should mete out. Should he call Allison? What time was it in Germany? The drive was too short to come to conclusions and then they were in the house, where Ian had to fight not to slam the front door behind them.

“Talk,” he ordered Gavin. “And you’d better have a good explanation as to why you not only went out without asking permission or us discussing where you wanted to go, but also turned off your phone and broke curfew.”

“You embarrassed me in front of my friends!” Gavin yelled instead, his face red with holding that in all the way home.

“Friends? Get a clue, kid—none of those stoners there were your friends,” Ian sneered. “And certainly not that guy you were sitting next to. He’s no good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin demanded.