Wicked Ever After Read online

  Thank God for that.

  “Sit,” Hunter demanded. “We’re going to talk.”

  One-Mile flopped onto the sofa, grabbed his bottle, and took a long pull.

  The elder Edgington grabbed the booze from his grip and sent him a narrow-eyed glare. “What the fuck? Jack Daniel’s straight up at four in the afternoon? Did you trade booze for drugs as a way of dealing with the trauma from your last mission to Mexico?”

  No, it was how he was coping with Brea’s loss, but he didn’t owe them that explanation. And he’d be goddamned if he let them slap a PTSD label on him, too. That was getting better…somewhat. But he refused to have that conversation now.

  “Fuck you. It’s been a long day, and I’m kicking back. Are you here for a mental health check, Mommy?”

  “What. The fuck. Happened?” Hunter snarled.

  Since they weren’t going to go away, he started at the beginning, telling the others that he’d gotten Valeria, her son, and her sister out of St. Louis without a hitch. And that with too much time on his hands in Orlando, he’d started to think—about ways to pay back Montilla…and how to catch their mole.

  “At least I’ve figured out who’s betrayed us.” One-Mile explained the email chain.

  Logan leaned in. “You’re sure?”

  “Unless everyone else somehow got the memo…”

  They all shook their heads.

  “First I’m hearing of it.” And Hunter didn’t sound pleased.

  “Then I’m positive. Trees is your asshole.”

  His trio of bosses looked at one another. “Why would he do that?”

  None of them had an answer.

  “Money?” One-Mile suggested. “Drugs? Blackmail?”

  Logan stood, then looked at his brothers. “That other problem we talked about this morning?”

  What did they mean?

  Joaquin raised a dark brow. “You have an idea how to deal with it?”

  “Yeah. Let me look into something.” Logan headed for the door.

  Hunter and Joaquin exchanged a glance before the quiet bastard shook his head. “That frightens me.”

  “Same. We’re coming with you. And you—” Hunter scowled, then pointed a sharp finger in his direction—“don’t do another fucking thing. You don’t even fart without talking to us, am I clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “If you have contacts, start working them—quietly,” Logan insisted from across the house. “Try to find out where Montilla is going and what he plans to do next. Try like your life depends on it.”

  But it wasn’t his life that worried him; it was Brea’s. It seemed likely Montilla or his goons would pay him a visit at some point. One-Mile couldn’t give that son of a bitch any reason to look her way.

  And as the trio left, he shoved the bottle aside, retrieved his laptop, and started calling everyone he knew.

  This time, when he found Montilla, he wouldn’t bother with any slap-and-tickle torture before an orderly arrest; he would just kill the bastard, possible repercussions be damned. At least Brea would be safe.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Monday, November 3

  Brea walked out of the doctor’s office at the clinic in Lafayette, feeling numb and stunned. Her life would never be the same.

  Cutter rose to his feet in the empty waiting room and stared. But his grim face told her he expected her next words.

  “I’m pregnant.” Her whisper turned to a sob.

  With a soft curse, he pulled her into his arms, stroking a big, comforting hand down her back. “Bre-bee…”

  She sank against him and clung for comfort.

  Except his two tours in Afghanistan, Cutter had been there for her since the day she was born. She had pictures of him, a gangly eight-year-old boy, holding her as an infant. She’d grown up next door to him. Though he had relocated to nearby Lafayette after returning from the Middle East, she saw him all the time. They spoke most every day. He had been her staple, her rock…and sometimes, her shield from the real world.

  He couldn’t shield her from this reality, but she’d never been more thankful for him than she was now.

  “It’s all right.” He pulled back and cupped her face. “We’ll handle it.”

  “How is it all right? You know what my father will do. What the town will say.”

  Brea feared her father having another heart attack because his only daughter had disappointed him so deeply. Without a husband, the town would gossip that she was a “fallen woman.” Not everyone in Sunset was so narrow-minded, but being Preacher Bell’s daughter, she was held to a higher standard. Once the news that she was “in trouble” spread, her living as a hairdresser would likely dry up. Then how would she support her baby?

  Even if Pierce found out, she doubted that the man who had suddenly told her they needed to “take a step back” would care.

  “Do you want to consider terminating the pregnancy?” Cutter asked softly.

  She hadn’t had much time to adjust to the idea that she would be a mother come May, and after her own mother’s fate, giving birth scared her. But instinctively she slid a protective hand over her slightly bulging belly. “Heavens, no. I would never do that. I’m not judging. That choice might be all right for some but you know I wasn’t raised that way.”

  Besides, if her being unwed and expecting would devastate Daddy, ending the pregnancy, if he ever found out, would be ten times worse.

  “Understood. Let’s grab a bite of lunch and talk.” Cutter dropped a hand to the small of her back and led her toward the exit.

  The front door’s electronic chime sounded. Brea looked up to find a man she’d never seen entering the clinic. A stranger, thank goodness. If he’d been anyone from Sunset, her appointment here would have caused the kind of speculation and chin-wagging that kept the town’s gossip mill churning for days.

  It was only a matter of time before they knew her secret.

  What was she going to do?

  Outside, she shivered in the November chill. Brea wrapped her sweater around her shoulders as Cutter opened the passenger door. She hopped in his truck, her mind reeling in the silence.

  Once he’d settled in the driver’s seat, he tugged on his seat belt and started the vehicle. “What are you going to tell One-Mile?”

  “Nothing.” Thankfully, he didn’t live in Sunset and wasn’t connected to the town grapevine. So if and when he heard, she would be the one to fill him in. “You can’t confront him about this, either.”

  “Look, he’s a jackass and he’ll make a lousy father, but—”

  “I’m asking you to keep my secret.” If he didn’t want her, she refused to say anything that might guilt him into taking her back. “Please.”

  Cutter tossed his hands in the air. “I have to work with him.”

  “It’s not as if you two voluntarily speak. All you have to do is not mention me.”

  “He’ll ask me about you.”

  Maybe he had in the past, but Brea doubted he would anymore. “If my daddy finds out I got pregnant by a man who’s never even taken me on a date, he’ll disown me.”

  Cutter slanted her a chiding glance. Okay, maybe she was being dramatic. He wouldn’t disown her…but he also might never forgive her. Daddy had been both her mother and father growing up. Not having him to guide her as she learned how to parent would be a devastating blow.

  If she had Pierce’s love and devotion, it would help to cushion the hit. But she didn’t, and dwelling on his abandonment accomplished nothing. Wishing he’d come back was an even bigger waste of time.

  Until her son or daughter was born, other than Cutter, she was alone.

  “When are you finally going to tell me what happened between you two?”

  She shook her head. The last thing she wanted to talk about now was the night she’d gotten pregnant, especially with Cutter. He would never understand. And he would blame himself. “Leave it.”

  “Be honest with me. Did Walker even bother to wear a co
ndom?”

  No, and that was just as much her fault as his. “Don’t do this.”

  “At least tell me if he forced you—”

  “No.” She wished he would stop prying. “And I won’t cry rape when it wasn’t.”

  Her time with Pierce had been like a fantasy, all fireworks and grand passion. But now the time to pay the bill had come, and she alone was holding the check—with no way to pay except her grit and stubborn determination.

  “Move to Lafayette.” Cutter broke into her thoughts. “My apartment building has great security and good neighbors.”

  In theory, that sounded ideal. New town, new life—one close to Cutter. But she’d already thought through that possibility. “With Daddy’s heart condition? I can’t leave him.”

  “You wouldn’t be far away.”

  “Too far for his circumstances. Besides, all my clients are in Sunset.” And they’d likely desert her once the news got out. “I’d have to start my business over.”

  “You can move in with me until you get on your feet. I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

  She appreciated his sacrifice, but she hated to take over his home office—or any part of his life. He valued his privacy, just like she did. But he wouldn’t care about that, so she had to phrase her refusal in a way he could understand.

  “I can’t live ‘in sin’ with you. You know that’s what the town would say. The preacher’s daughter and the town drunk’s son shacking up. What a shame…”

  He let out an exasperated sigh as he put the truck into drive. “Damn it, I wish those small-minded idiots would keep their mouths shut.”

  “You lived in Sunset most of your life. You know they won’t.”

  Gritting his teeth, Cutter pulled away from the clinic. “Can I ask you a question? Was Pierce your first?”

  Surely, he didn’t think she slept around. Probably not, but they’d also never asked about one another’s sex life. “Of course.”

  Cutter gripped the steering wheel like it was Pierce’s neck. “We should get married.”

  Brea sucked in a breath. She’d always hoped someone would propose to her someday. But Cutter was the wrong man, and he wasn’t offering because he was in love with her.

  She swiped the tears from her stunned face. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind? I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

  “It’s sweet but—”

  “You’re out of options, Bre-bee. In order to keep the townsfolk and your father off your back and keep your baby, you need a husband.”

  He was right, and his offer meant the world to her, but… “I love you, Cutter. Like a brother. I don’t think of you…that way.”

  He scowled. “I don’t think of you that way, either. You’re my sister in every way except blood. But we’ve stuck together through thick and thin. We’ve grown closer over the years because we both know what it’s like to be the latch-key kid of a hardworking single parent. I don’t want that for your baby. I doubt you do, either. So unless you want to find yourself cast out of Sunset altogether for trying to raise your child alone, I’m your best hope.”

  “What would you do if you married me?” She hated discussing such an indelicate topic, but he’d brought it up. “I don’t go out of my way to hear gossip, but I can’t always avoid it. I know you’re a red-blooded man. I know you like women and you don’t enjoy spending your nights alone. I can’t give you…”

  Sex.

  Cutter winced. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

  Brea breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t interested in getting naked and sweaty with her, either. Thank goodness.

  But what would they do about intimacy? About the fact that, despite everything, her heart belonged to a man he despised?

  She bit her lip. “I guess if we lived in Lafayette, and you were discreet…”

  “What about you?” he asked. “What will you do when you need a man to touch—”

  “Pray. Meditate. Garden. Work. I won’t…” She couldn’t imagine another man near her. Brea only ached for Pierce. Yes, giving in to him had created this mess, and if she ever saw him again she would have to guard against her foolish yearnings. But she already knew her heart would never belong to anyone else. “I’ll be fine.”

  Cutter stopped at a red light and sent her a narrow-eyed glare. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Did Walker hurt you?”

  How stunned would he be if she told him that Pierce had given her such sublime pleasure and made her feel so much like a woman that she’d never once thought of resisting? “Leave it, Cutter.”

  “I won’t let that son of a bitch get away with what he’s done. He took advantage of you. He caused you anguish. Goddamn it—”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” she snapped, mostly because it was something they generally agreed on.

  “Figure of speech, Bre-bee. Stop derailing me. I want to know every way he harmed you so I can make him pay. Now.”

  She shrank back into her seat because he didn’t really want the truth. “Doesn’t it always hurt the first time?”

  “Other than that, was he too rough? Did he bruise you? Use you too hard? Too often?” Cutter ground his teeth together.

  Brea tried not to blush. Pierce had spent half that night inside her and he hadn’t held back. And she’d loved it.

  “Talk to me.” He sounded exasperated. “Did he spank you or bind you or—”

  “Stop.” Those words sent images spinning through her head. Had Pierce wanted to do such things to her? How would they have felt? Why did she ache so badly to know? “Whatever he may or may not have done, I’m all right. I went to him for help and he did exactly what I asked. Nothing else matters.”

  At least as far as Cutter should be concerned.

  He finally gave up his awkward questions. “All right. I won’t pry. Just tell me what you want to do.”

  “I need to think. I suspected I was pregnant, but hearing the doctor confirm it was a shock.”

  “I know. My offer stands. Getting married will quell the gossip. We can spin the wedding as two friends who’ve realized they’re in love.”

  “I hate lying to everyone…”

  “I do, too. But the truth will ruin you and tear your father apart. There are no good options here, so we have to pick the best of a bad bunch.”

  Brea feared he was right. “How do we convince anyone that we’re romantic?”

  “One step at a time. Worry about you and the baby first. How many weeks along are—”

  “Thirteen.”

  Certainly he could do the math. He knew exactly when she’d gone to Pierce. And there was no question he’d gotten her pregnant after the hostage standoff that hot August night.

  That same math brought home the fact that, even if she and Cutter married today, the minute her baby was born, Sunset would be filled with speculation and innuendo. How much longer before her pregnancy showed? Right now, she was able to hide the developing bulge of her tummy…but how long would that last?

  “Don’t take too long to decide or people will figure it out.”

  “I know. Thank you. Do you have an assignment next week?”

  “Yeah. Originally, Logan Edgington scheduled me to keep an eye out on a former FBI director who’s coming to New Orleans for reasons I’m not supposed to know or care about. But he’s rescheduled, so Jolie—you know, the clothing designer I worked for last week?”

  “The one whose offices you were almost killed in?” She hated the thought of him going back there.

  But wherever he went, the job was dangerous.

  “You’re overreacting. I got whacked in the head at the urinal.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Anyway, she asked me to go bodyguard some pampered celebrity friend of hers for a week or two in LA. But I’ll be back for Thanksgiving. I think we should get married then.”

  Brea didn’t want to make them both miserable, but she wasn’t seeing many other options. “I would offe
r to divorce you after the baby is born but…”

  She couldn’t, at least until her father had passed. Even then, she felt squeamish about putting asunder that which God hath joined. But she would have to let Cutter go eventually. She couldn’t keep him trapped in a loveless marriage for the rest of his life.

  “We’ll worry about that later. For now, think about what I’ve said.”

  She nodded. “Can we skip lunch? I’m not up to it.”

  Her energy levels had bounced back, but her morning sickness was still an everyday, all-day reality. And more than anything, Brea wanted to be alone.

  Cutter looked hesitant, but he finally nodded.

  When he reached the street on which they’d both grown up, he parked between their childhood homes and leaned across the cab of the truck to kiss her forehead.

  She met him halfway and brought him in for a sisterly hug. “Thank you for everything.”

  “No, thank you. I hated to admit this to Walker, but I probably wouldn’t be alive today if you hadn’t persuaded him to help me. I know what that cost you.” He sighed as if it pained him to admit that. “So let me take care of you in return.”

  None of this was his fault or his doing, but what other choice did she have? “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Brea…”

  With a shake of her head and a wave, she headed inside to think about her future and make plans—without Pierce.

  Chapter Four

  Thursday, November 13

  Brea sat across the dinner table from her father, uncomfortably aware of his probing stare. “More mashed potatoes, Daddy?”

  “You finish up the last few spoonfuls. I think you need it.”

  “I’m fine.” She tried to keep calm, but Daddy had been asking gently loaded questions for the last few minutes and she was desperate to change the subject. “Tell me how Tom’s new youth group is doing. Last time I had two minutes to rub together, he was really just getting it going. There seemed to be a lot of enthusiasm—”

  “It’s fine, and right now that’s not my concern. We haven’t spoken much since the morning you agreed to stop seeing that man. Has he contacted you?”