Wicked Ever After (Wicked & Devoted 2)
She grimaced. “They’re all liars.”
“Can’t deny that. Listen, I know you’re used to having my brother around, but I’m going to take care of you after he’s gone. I’ll be farther away but—”
“You don’t have to.” Brea placed a hand over the little swell of her belly covered by her burgundy chiffon bridesmaid dress. “We’ll be fine. Everyone seems to forget that I’m a grown woman. But I’ll keep reminding y’all. Even Daddy is coming around.”
“You’re going to have a little one soon, probably alone and—”
“Don’t say that.” It was likely true, but Brea wasn’t ready to accept it.
“Honey, Walker isn’t here. And I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“He is. He has to be.” But her reaction was more of a knee-jerk than a conviction.
“Maybe. If he’s able. But besides the fact he’s an absolute douche, I have to be honest. A mission like that has wiped out squads of soldiers, even taken out most of a SEAL team. He’s one sniper alone.”
“Stop!” She jerked away and fought a rise of more tears. Cage wasn’t saying anything she didn’t know, but she didn’t need to be reminded that Pierce’s survival chances were slim—and dwindling by the hour. “I’m clinging to hope right now. Please don’t take it from me.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I just want you to know that, after Cutter is gone, I’ll be around as much as I can.”
Cage meant to be helpful, and she had snapped at him. “I’m sorry, too. I’m just really worried about Pierce. Constantly. I know the odds aren’t good, but if anyone could survive and succeed, it’s him.”
Every day, she’d prayed. Every night, she’d cried. Now all she could do was try to beat back despair and hold on to hope. Pierce had returned once. If there were such a thing as miracles, maybe he could pull off one again.
Suddenly, she heard a commotion on the opposite side of the tent. Cage frowned and whipped his gaze around, looking over the crowd, toward the ruckus. His eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Brea really resented being so short. No matter how she stood on her tiptoes and craned to peer around everyone, all she saw was the crowd’s backs.
“Speak of the devil.”
Which devil? On this earth, she only knew one…
Hope gripped her chest. “Pierce?”
“You shouldn’t be here, Walker.” Brea vaguely recognized Josiah Grant’s voice.
That was all the confirmation Brea needed. Astonishment closed her throat as she turned to tug on Cage’s sleeve. “Oh, my gosh, he’s really here? Can you see him?”
“Yeah. Somehow, he slipped past all our security and waltzed right the hell in. I’ll be damned…”
Thank God!
All Brea could hear was her own heartbeat roaring in her ears as she held in a jubilant cry and dashed through the thick crowd. She didn’t care if she was rude or that she bumped into Jennifer Lawrence’s back, spilling the woman’s drink. She only cared about reaching Pierce.
“Fuck off.” That voice—a dark, sure rasp that always held a note of irritation…except when he talked to her.
Definitely Pierce. She’d never heard anything so wonderful.
Her heart lifted. Joy soared. She pressed even quicker through the throng toward him.
“Now isn’t the time. Cutter doesn’t need this tonight.” Josiah again, clearly trying to keep the peace. “He just got married.”
“I don’t give a shit about him,” Pierce growled as he yanked free from Josiah’s hold. “Where’s—” Suddenly, their eyes met. He breathed her name. “Brea…”
She gaped, speechless. Montilla was dead, and Pierce was really, really here.
They were free!
As people around her parted to clear her path, Brea’s feet took her forward. She stopped short of Pierce, trembling. She couldn’t stop staring.
He looked even leaner and more dangerous than he had in December. His burning black eyes sat deep in their sockets as he looked her over, his stare lingering on her middle. She wrapped her hands around their baby. His thick beard was back. He was horribly out of place in a black T-shirt and camo pants. But the sight of him brought her to tears.
“Brea?” he boomed over the residual chatter and music. She was vaguely aware of heads turning and people whispering. He didn’t seem to care. His sole focus was on her.
Her throat closed up, and her voice caught. “Pierce…”
Never breaking their stare, he tossed a chair out of the path between them and charged toward her. Brea’s eyes widened as he backed her against the nearby buffet table with his big body. “I need to talk to you, pretty girl. It won’t wait.”
The torment on his face ripped at Brea’s heart. Was something wrong? She looked around for privacy so they could talk, but all she saw was a crowd of curious bystanders. “No. Not here. Please.”
Josiah shoved his way between them with a no-means-no speech all over his face and gave Pierce a push just as Cutter approached, expression hard. “You weren’t invited, asshole.”