I wanted to run away.

I’d been here for the second time in less than twenty-four hours with my girl and it sucked. Especially for her. Talking seemed like a pointless exercise, so I didn’t. I just held her hair and let her go to work on expelling the contents of her stomach. I wet a cloth with cold water from the sink and handed it to her. She took it from me, pressed it over her whole face and groaned. I felt completely helpless. You did this to her and she hates you for it.

Fred tapped on the open door. “House call,” he said kindly.

“Can you give her something, Fred?”

Brynne took the cloth away from her face, looking pale and about ready to cry. Fred smiled at her. “I can give you an anti-nausea but it’ll just be symptomatic.”

“Please,” she answered, nodding her head.

“What does that mean, just symptomatic?” I asked.

Fred spoke to Brynne. “My dear, I don’t feel comfortable doing a treatment on you if we don’t have a confirmation. Are you ready to try a test?” He spoke gently. “Then we’ll know for sure and you and E can decide what’s best for the two of you. We really need that test first, though.” He gave a quick nod.

“Okay.” That was all she said and she spoke to Fred without even looking at me. She seemed rather cold and sort of detached, like we were strangers now. That hurt. I desperately wanted her to look me in the eyes, but she wouldn’t. She just held the wet cloth to her face and kept her eyes locked on the wall.

Fred set the two test kits down on the sink counter. Hannah had helped me choose them in the village earlier, because I sure as hell didn’t know what I was doing. After that conversation with my sister, she’d convinced me I needed to buy some pregnancy tests. This was surreal. It really was. Here we three were standing around in a bathroom trying to pretend this was standard operating procedure when, in fact, it was totally f**ked up. My Brynne at metaphorical gunpoint practically being forced into a surprise pregnancy test, and with me knowing about her past and the other time she was impregnated.

FUCK! I wanted to punch the wall again but didn’t dare in this place. These walls were worth too damn much.

Lots of crazy thoughts flooded my brain. What if she hates me for knocking her up? What if this breaks us? What if she wants a termination? What if she isn’t even pregnant after all and this scares her off? I was terrified but I still wanted to know. Now. I needed some answers.

“Right,” Fred said, “we’ll talk in a bit and work on getting you to feeling better, my dear.” He eased out of the small room to leave but turned back to say something else. And there was Brynne standing stiffly with downcast eyes like a cornered animal. It broke my heart to witness. It really f**kin’ did. “Brynne, we’re here to help and support in any way that we can. I mean that and I know that Hannah does too.”

“Thank you,” she answered in a small voice.

With Fred gone it was just the two of us. Brynne didn’t move, she just stood there. It was awkward. I wanted to touch her but was afraid to.

“Brynne?”

She lifted her eyes and swallowed, looking miserable and pale. The second I moved toward her she backed up a step and held up her hand to keep me away. “I—I need to be alone . . .” Her bottom lip trembled as she choked out the words. So different from when it turned up in a sexy smile. Brynne usually smiled a lot more than I did. Her whole face lit up when she did it. Whenever she smiled, it made me want to smile in return. She made me want a lot of things I’d never cared about before too. But she wasn’t smiling now. She was scared to death.

It killed me to see her like this. “Baby, remember what I said.” I stepped out of the bathroom but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be right beside her when she found out. I didn’t want to leave her alone. I wanted her in my arms telling me she loved me and that we could do this. I needed that from her right now and I knew I wouldn’t be getting it.

She met my gaze as she started to shut the door slowly. “Don’t forget,” I said just before it closed and I was facing an elegant carved door instead of my girl, who was struggling on the other side of it.

Time passed slowly as I waited for her to come out. My dread grew exponentially as the minutes ticked away. I checked my mobile for messages and responded to some of them when I got to a text from Neil: Have news on Fielding. MP rpt.

I dialed and waited for the connection, staring at the bathroom door and wondering what was happening inside. My mind went on full alert as I transferred into protection mode.

“Boss.”

“A missing person? Fielding is missing? Please tell me that’s not true.”

Neil sighed. “Yeah, report was filed just a few days ago by his parents, who live somewhere in the Northeast; Pennsylvania, I think. Last confirmed contact was the thirtieth of May. According to the report, he didn’t show for work. His apartment checks out. Passport left behind and no evidence of a hasty flight. The consulate of course has no record of travel outside of the U.S.”

“Fuck, that’s not nice news, mate.”

“I know. The possibilities are endless. His father suspects foul play, and has said so in interviews to the papers.”

“I bet Oakley’s camp loves the press.” I said sarcastically.

“No accusation, though. Senator Oakley is not mentioned, so the connection hasn’t been made between Montrose and Fielding to Lance Oakley.”

“So let’s extrapolate this. Congressman Woodson’s plane goes down the beginning of April. Oakley’s name starts popping up as a replacement almost immediately. Montrose gets in a bar fight and takes multiple stab wounds to the neck and chest on April twenty-fourth. The motherfucker dies two days later in hospital. Suspect unknown. Tom Bennett contacts me and I take over here on the third of May with Brynne at the Andersen Gallery. Fielding’s last sighting was the end of May. Everything’s quiet for a month. Text from ArmyOps17 to Brynne’s mobile last night, the twenty-ninth of June.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your gut telling you about Fielding? You’ve seen the reports.”

“I think he’s dead in a shallow grave somewhere or maybe in the Pacific feeding the fish.”

“Connected to Oakley, you think?”

“Hard to know. Justin Fielding had a drug problem. Cocaine, apparently.”