We're once again in my safe house in Yachats, a small town perched above the Oregon Coast Range along the Pacific. I knew I'd need this place at some point, although I'm aware it won't be for too long. Portland is no longer safe for Mia, for both of us, and the quicker I wind up my mission the better.

The thought of what would've happened if I wasn't in Mia's apartment tonight inflicts dread in me. What were those men going to do to her? It must have been Patrick who sent them but for what reason? To kidnap her and hold her in his possession against her will? Just how twisted that bastard's mind is?

The ring on the phone stops and my attention shifts.

"It's late, even for me. Must we talk right now, you rascal?" I hear the voice I nearly forgot.

It's been years since we last talked, and many more since we met.

"Well..." I pour myself a drink from the bottle, a warm breath emitting through my nose. "I figured we better talk now or else we may never do it again."

"Why? You think I'm gonna die like an old fella without seeing my grandson again? Stop being an ass, Rayden. Enough with the heroic adventure that brought you nothing but miseries!" he nags, still speaking like an emperor whose word is the law. He technically is. "Come home. And bring her here; I bet she's the one holding you hostage over there, right? Like father like son, folly romantic."

I place down the bottle, but I don't pick up the full glass of whiskey.

Standing upright, I say, "You didn't even ask for details. Why?"

"You said she's important. When a rigid man like you says such a thing, it means high-class shit. The Attorney General owes me a few favors from here and there, so it was a perfect time to collect some of the payments," he explains vaguely. "I don't care about your story, son, or hers; I just want you back to Cripple Creek in one piece."

"I cannot leave her," I say after a sigh.

"I never ask you to, did I?" he snaps. It's his way of talking. "Listen, Rayden. We, Hunters, protect what's ours. If you think she's yours, then bring her home. Understood? We can protect her here. You know we can." The last part comes out sternly and powerfully.

I clamp my teeth and my jaw flexes for I feel treed. Useless even. I didn't know it would reach the point where I'd want to take Mia to the last place I wanted to go. Colorado. But after what happened tonight, I can't think anywhere safer than the place I was born, and where my parents grew up.

"You're right, Grandpa.  It's late. Sleep well." I end the call, grab my whiskey, and parade toward the small terrace using the sliding doors in the living room.

Harsh wind regards my bare chest but I can't seem to feel a thing. There's a lot in my head, my woman and my child being the chief of them all. How do I keep them safe? I lean onto the aluminum guardrails, watching the darkness spurring the shimmering stars dangling from the sky.

I gulp a long puff of my drink, watching the rugged and windswept beach getting crushed by the ocean tide. When I rented this place, I had Mia in mind. I thought she'd love it, regardless of how we'd spend a few days in here, hiding. But it's the privacy that had me pay for it. No one except Luca knows we're here.

I hope it stays so.

Finalizing Mia's divorce had managed to unchain the beast living in Patrick Kingston. I anticipated his wild rage even before I asked my grandfather for a favor. He's the one who pulled the strings and had the judge sign the divorce at once, which as a result waged the war between me and Patrick Kingston,

"Why are you out here?" I hear Mia's thirsty voice that pulls me back around. "I was looking all over for you." She's wearing my sweatshirt that falls up to her thighs and sleeves longer than her fingers.

Barefoot, she walks toward me and her head collapses into my chest. I down the rest of my drink and use one arm to hug her closer until she fits.

"I'm sleepy but I can't sleep," she laments, her cheek warm against my chest. "Why are you here?" In a childlike manner, she peers up at me through tired eyes.

"I can't sleep either," I reply truthfully.

After a small fraction of time, Mia edges her head back and gazes up at me with hooded eyes. The moonlight glows stunningly on her olive skin; it reminds me of how beautiful she is, whether dressed up or not.

"Let's just stay here and wait for the dawn. I bet there's a beautiful sunrise, don't you?" She smiles at me sweetly, making it all okay as though we're ordinary lovers at home or vacation houses.

I tuck her hair behind her ear. "Sunrise is at least one hour from now. We should get back to sleep. I'm sure we'll manage this time."

"How? Will you sing me a lullaby?"

I grin lightly. "Sure, why not?"

She crinkles her nose. "You? I bet you're a terrible singer, Rayden Hunter!"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Mia Vera Diaz," I drawl.

"Well, pardon me, Monsieur, but I do love a good cover. This whole sexy cover, for instance!" She playfully points at my body with some libidinous hissing sounds along the brush of her fingers down my arms.

I laugh briefly. She sounds cheerful and strong, and it amazes me after everything she's gone through, not just tonight but many weeks consecutively, for her to remain this willfully impetuous.

"Well, you may be robbed one of these days." I pinch her nose; she lets out a squeamish noise and a little childish laughter. "C'mon. Let's get you both to sleep." I press a swift kiss d on her temple before hauling her by the waist.

"Robbed? By who?" she demands.

I laugh quietly as we head back inside. "Just... some random girl."

"And you think she'll be safe after that?"

"Why not? What will you do to her?"

"Burn her alive of course?"

I laugh again, loudly this time.

In the bedroom, I shut down the bedside lamp and gently she scoots next to me, so close that I can breathe the scent of her shampoo and the warm smell of her skin. A little quiet ensues. We haven't talked a word about what happened earlier but she's still processing it inwardly. I can tell by her silence.

"What's on your mind?" I start.

"It was Patrick, right?" she finally lets it out.

I take a shallow breath.

My fingers run through her scalps as I answer, "He must've lost his mind after the divorce and all."

"He won't stop," Mia whispers. "I know he won't make my life easy as long as I'm where he can see me. But I don't want to hide, Red. I can't live like this."

I've never seen her this worried but it's only natural. At the moment, there's nothing I can do to fix this once and for all and it kills me a million ways.

"Just get some sleep, Mia. We'll figure out the rest of it tomorrow," I tell her.

I promised I'd keep her safe and that's my priority. I do have a plan in mind but to make it work depends on the person I'm meeting tomorrow.

"I don't think I can sleep! God, I hate him! I should've poisoned him when I had the chance?" She sits up and sighs, frustrated. Somehow it makes me laugh. "You think it's funny?" she lashes at me, but I feel the humor in her voice.

I fold my arm beneath my head. While flashing on the lamp on the nightstand, I tell her, "I think you should lay back and stop thinking of him. We're gonna find the solution to this; trust me."

Even if it means facing Patrick Kingston myself to put an end to him.

"Arrgh!" Mia falls back in bed and places her thigh across mine while resting her hand on my chest. She still for a moment until she whispers, "I think I know what can make me sleep."

"What?" I gaze down at her, and from the way she breathes shakily, I think I know what she wants now.

A smile breaks on my face. I'm not sure if it's the pregnancy or not, but her sexual appetite never ceases to amaze me. Without a word, she lifts herself and straddles my lap. I don't move; I let her do as she pleases while watching her with similar ravening desire.

She pulls her sweatshirt, which is mine, over her head and throws it away. The swell on my throat moves as I swallow thickly. Her naked upper body disarms me when I look at her, her breasts full, round, and bare. She's wearing white panties but the warmth between her thighs dazzles me as though she's fully naked.

My cocks pulses and my mind shifts instantaneously. The aching need plummets through my manhood. She was right. This can actually put us both to sleep because I want nothing but the taste of her lips, and the touch of her skin when I fuck her in any form she wants me to.

And much to my dismay, she leans over and presses her soft lips on my stomach slowly, licking and sucking my rough skin agonizingly. I growl quietly and suck in my breath when she heads down to the waistband of my boxers, lowering herself to my thighs until she frees my erection.

"What the fuck are you up to, woman?" I grin like the happy man I certainly am right now.

"Shhh. No talking," she whispers.

"I just—"

"Shut up, mister," she snaps, "and let me fuck you." 

Enough with this damn hospital bed. I feel like a sixty years old useless man lying here as if I'm tetraplegic. Damn those pills and whisky. Groaning, I adjust myself in bed and sit up at last. I sigh heavily, counting my priorities from business to no-good family of mine.

I need to get back to Portland and fix what's needed to be fixed. My wife. I need to deal with her urgently. I don't care what the fucking papers say because she is, and will always be my wife until I give her what she deserves for turning into the whore she is.

And there's also Elena. That foolish alcoholic woman has already lost her mind. She's like a broken record, and if she weren't the mother of my children, I swear I'd have already gotten rid of her. I hope that beating put her back to her senses, however, because the last thing I want is for her to spew nonsense about seeing a dead girl in my penthouse.

Honestly, things are bad; I can't say my business is doing fine either. The Russians are mad at me after the sudden burst of the FBI right on the day of the exchange, which was quite unusual. I believe there's a mole inside and I can't stop feeling like Cora Mitchell has double-crossed me somehow. But maybe not. She knows what I can do to her; I made her what she is, after all.

But I'll get to the bottom of it. No one betrays me and goes unpunished.

"I hope you can with good news," I utter when Bastien walks in wearing his signature full black suit.

His hairless jaw ticks and a frown flits on his glossy black face.

I grip my teeth. "They couldn't handle him, could they?"

"Only one survived. I'm sure they took him," he answers with only a tiny teeny bit of remorse given that I'm the one who insisted on the raid.

That bastard! Damn the day I allowed him to get close to my wife. That was the worst mistake of my life.

"And the doctor?" I ask, seated in bed the last IV dripping annoyingly slowly by my side.

"We kept her in the warehouse. It wasn't easy to make her talk but she eventually did it," he answers.

I was told Mia frequented the hospital for the past couple of weeks from the day she collapsed in our house--the same say she left. But what for? Rapid breaths rush past my nose, and I can't stand the feeling roiling me from within.

"I know she would. She adores her husband too much to risk losing him just to protect her patient." I shift a bit to recline my back with more comfort. "So what did she say?" I ask rather slowly, even though the urge to know the answer is bigger than the will.

Bastien hesitates to give me the answer, and that's a first. He's lowered his eyes while holding his hand in front of him, which is out of character.

"What did that wench say?" I snap.

Bastien's cold eyes reunite with mine when he says, "That... that Madam is pregnant."

As though every sense of my body has been blocked, I keep my breath still for no telling how long, eyes fixed on Bastien broadly and frozen.

________

A/N: Talking about the big reveal, I hope dear Patrick won't get a relapse lol. Who's curious to meet Red's family, huh? His grandpa intrigues me (And oh, our hero may be more than he lets on) Xoxo!