The Next Sin (The Sin Trilogy 2)

I appear deceitful. And I guess I am. I never considered that because I didn’t count on being caught. “I’m sorry.”

He comes to me and wraps his arms around me tightly. “I decided it was a bad idea to leave you alone so I sent one of my men back to stay with you. I lost it when he called to say you weren’t here. I thought The Order had taken you.”

I cradle his face in my hands. “I’m fine.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “I’ve never been so fucking scared in all my life. Ever.”

“I’m really sorry.”

He pulls away and is looking at me like he might want to give me a good shake. “You’re part of The Fellowship now. You can’t do shit like this. I don’t even want to think about what The Order might do if they got their hands on you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m tired of hearing you say that.”

“I keep saying it because it’s true.” And because he ignores it.

“You’re my wife. I want to be the one to take care of you.”

Why can’t he see that he does? “You do. Every single day.”

He sighs. “Tell me about this lead that was so important.”

I reiterate the details of the night I followed Abram and tonight’s events.

“Good God, Bonny. I can’t believe you involved my mum.”

“I turned to the only person I could.”

He looks hurt. “That’s not true.”

“It is. You don’t want to hear what I have to say when it comes to Abram.”

“I’m asking you to please not do anything like this behind my back again. If you have something you want to investigate, come to me. We’ll do it together. That’s how I want to do everything in our lives. Always.”

I have Debra’s services. I think I’d be wise to utilize her for such things as dealing with Cameron Ewart.

He kisses me hard. “Be in that bed naked and waiting for me when I come back.”

I love when he tells me that.

He grabs my ass and squeezes hard. “Be prepared, Mrs. Breckenridge. You have penance to pay.”

Chapter Sixteen

Sinclair Breckenridge

We saw Dr. Paschall a week ago. He assures us we’ve made the right decision in moving forward with the IVF. I hope so. This is too big to screw up.

It’s day one of Bleu’s fertility injections. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror with the bottom of her T-shirt rolled up and tucked in the top of her bra. She’s holding a syringe in one hand while the other pinches up a patch of skin on her stomach. “You’re going to have to do this for me.”

Oh hell no, I’m not. “You’re the one they taught. I don’t know how to give a shot.”

“I can’t stand the thought of driving this needle into my own skin.”

“I’ll call Jamie.”

“I’m taking these three times a day. Jamie can’t come here every time my injection is due. You’re gonna need to man up and do this for me just as I did for you.”

I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about. “Just as you did what for me?”

“I gave you your morphine injection.”

“When was that?”

“After the endurance.”

I had no idea. “Well, you owed me that much after I was nearly beaten to death for you.”

Oh God. She has the attitude face. It came on as quickly as watching a background change mid performance of a play. “And you owe me this if you want me to have babies for you.”

And she has the drama to accompany it. “Don’t act like having babies is only for me. You want the cute little buggers too.”

She softens. “I know.”

She’s done this before. She should be used to it. “Who gave you the injections when you did your other retrieval?”

“My sister—who is a registered nurse. Ellison popped it in there like it was nothing and went about her way. No big deal.”

“Well, it’s a big deal to me.”

“It’s really not. I thought it would bother me giving you the morphine but I realized it was nothing after it was over.”

“Then do it if there’s nothing to it.”

She groans loudly. “It’s different giving it to yourself.”

“Fine.” I go to her and hold out my hand. “Give me the damn thing.”

I pinch her skin and gather my courage before inserting the needle into her abdomen. “I can’t believe you have to do this three times a day for two weeks.”

“Well, believe it, you big ol’ baby. Fourteen days times three. That’s forty-two injections, not counting the Lupron and HCG. So get prepared, Dr. B. You’re going to be a pro before this is over.”

She’s taking way too much pleasure in this. “I don’t want to be a pro. There’s a reason Jamie’s the doctor and I’m the lawyer. Speaking of which, what are you planning to do about this when I’m working?”

“I can run by the office when it’s due.”

I won’t always be available. “What about when I’m in court?”

“I’m sure Isobel wouldn’t mind helping me.”

“Have you told her?”

“No, but I will if I need to. Have you told anyone?”

“My father brought up the heir topic. I told him we were trying, minus the method in which we would make it happen. There’s no need for them to know that part unless they have to.”

I’m not telling her he asked if she was aware of her other job—producing an heir. That would only piss her off.

I wrap my arms around her from behind. “I need to go so I’m not late for work.”

She twists in my arms for a goodbye kiss. “See you at one for my next injection.”

“Today only. We’ll need to work something else out for the others.”

Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? I’ll give her every single one of those injections if that’s what she wants from me. I owe her that much.

* * *

The next two weeks are chaotic. Needles. Medications. More needles. Hormones. Volatile mood swings. If I didn’t know the side effects of the hormones ahead of time, I’d think Bleu hated me.

Dr. Paschall warned us that the severity of Bleu’s syndrome might make her a more likely candidate for discomfort. She doesn’t mention it but I suspect she’s in pain. She’s turned me down for sex more nights than not. That’s not like my sexual butterfly at all.

Bleu flies to London and back every few days for blood work and ultrasounds to monitor her progression. I haven’t been able to go with her so she’s had to experience the majority of this process without me. That’s not what I wanted.

She’s done this before. I suppose that has made this time a little better but I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to be with her every step of the way. It’s another example of how she takes care of herself when I, her husband, should.

But I’m here with her now. We’re at the clinic for retrieval day so we’re together. No negotiations.

Bleu has been sedated for the procedure. I’m rather enjoying our conversation about purple lollipops floating in the air when they come to take her back for the retrieval.

They have me wait in a holding area. It feels like she’s been gone a long time but it’s only thirty minutes when I check the clock.

“Mr. Breckenridge. We’re ready for your contribution.” Contribution. That’s what they’re calling it these days.

They’re asking for my sperm. I’m guessing that’s a good sign. It must mean they were able to retrieve viable eggs.

I follow the clinic employee down the hall. I’m left in a small room with one assignment—jack off into a cup. Shouldn’t be too hard considering the dry spell I’ve had with Bleu.

I double—and then triple—check the label on the cup for accuracy before I do the deed. We can’t afford a mix-up with this.

I wait at the collection window for someone from the lab. No way I’m throwing this in the window and leaving. I need to see it properly

follow the chain of custody.

A woman appears and I hold up the bag. “My contribution.” It’s the term they used so I’m going with that. I doubt they’d appreciate me calling it what I usually do.

I’m taken to where Bleu is recovering. She’s still sleeping so I sit at her bedside. I bring her hand up for a kiss. “I love you, Bonny Bleu.”

She shifts slightly when the automatic blood pressure cuff squeezes. She lazily opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Hi, beautiful.”

She grins. “Hi.”

I get up and sit on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“A little crampy but otherwise okay.” Her speech is slow.

They must’ve given Bleu some good drugs. She’s barely stirred. “You’ve been sleeping like the dead.”

“I’m very tired.”

“I see that. I booked a hotel so you can rest until our flight this evening.”

“Always so thoughtful. You take such good care of me.”

Her eyes appear heavy. I think she’s on the verge of dozing off again so I stroke my hand over her cheek. “Dr. Paschall came by. He said he was able to get ten eggs.”

Her eyes pop open. “Ten? That’s a really good number for me.”