“Is it? Can you show me proof?”
I grinned and reached into my pocket. I handed her the photograph with the Urdu writing on the back.
She shook her head. “Fuck. Really?”
“Really. And the words basically say that they know who I am and who Mason is.”
She looked at me, terror in her eyes. “They know?”
“I don’t know how. I guess they kept tabs on you after you left the resort and put two and two together.”
“So this is real,” she whispered.
“It’s real, princess. Very real.”
“Should we tell my parents?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Let’s only tell people who really need to know for now.”
“Aren’t they in danger too?”
“I doubt it. Omar isn’t stupid. He won’t waste his one chance to get at me by hurting your parents.”
Just then, the sound of a crying baby filled the room.
I made a face. “He do that every morning?”
“Sure does,” Tara said, standing.
I stood faster. “I’ll get him.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s okay.”
“At least let me bring him down.”
She looked at me, lips pursed, and finally nodded. “Fine. Bring him right now.”
I walked around the table and stopped next to her, stooping down to put my lips against her ear. “While you’re down here, think about the night we made him. Think about the way I made that fucking sweet body of yours feel.”
Before she could respond, I walked past and headed upstairs.
I didn’t know a damn thing about babies. I knew they pissed, shit, cried, and needed to be fed. That was pretty much the extent of what I knew.
So it was pretty fucking weird to walk into the nursery and see my son lying there, crying loudly.
“Good morning, little boy,” I said. I gently scooped him up into my arms.
He seemed so tiny, practically disappearing into my arm muscles.
His cry got quieter and quieter as I bounced him softly, and slowly it stopped. He blinked up at me with eyes identical to my own, and I felt something inside me, however brief.
I was holding and looking at my son, really looking at him, for the first time.
This was why I was here. Because of Mason, Tara was really in danger. Because Mason was my son, and Omar knew he could use that to hurt me.
I cradled Mason in my arms. “Sorry to pull you into this, little man.”
He just looked at me.
“Not much of a talker. I get that. I’m not either. But I bet your mom talks to you constantly. I bet you never get any peace and quiet.”
I rocked him in my arms as I carried him slowly downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and Tara looked up at me, biting her lip.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
“He’s my son, all right,” I said. “The boy nearly ripped my arms out of my sockets when I tried to pick him up.”
That made her smile. “Here. I need to change him and feed him.”
“All you, mommy.”
She made a face and took him from me.
I watched as she walked into the other room and shook my head.
What a bizarre thing. That was my baby, and my baby’s mother.
And out there somewhere was one of my biggest enemies, looking to destroy us.
I was going to have to up my game this time.
I grinned to myself, almost looking forward to the moment when I could crush Omar’s skull in the palm of my hand.
9
Tara
His son, all right.
As I changed Mason, I couldn’t stop thinking about that. Emory was such an intense man, an enigma in my life. But now that he was back, and apparently intended to stick around for a little while, at least until the danger went away, I was beginning to have hope. It was a strange feeling to have in the middle of the most dangerous situation of my life, but ever since I’d found out I was pregnant, I’d been feeling scared. I was used to being scared.
But now I had a reason to feel less scared. Emory was here, the ghost man, the handsome SEAL who knocked me up. I didn’t know where any of this would lead, if it would lead anywhere, but for the first time since Mason was born I finally felt like I was going somewhere.
As I was finishing up with Mason, I heard a knock at the door. “There you go, little boy,” I said, strapping his diaper on and pulling on his clothes.
“I got it,” I called out. But as I scooped up Mason and walked into the other room, I saw Emory had already opened the door.
“Who is it?” I asked him.
“Nobody,” he grunted.
“Nobody was there?”
“No,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
I made a face at him. “You’re being weird. Who knocked?”