CRAVING THE WRONG MAN

EXPLOSION

MIA

"Saint, I have something to tell you."

He turns his head toward me, still holding my hand between both of his.

For a moment, the noise from inside the clubhouse seems to disappear. The motorcycles, the voices, the occasional burst of laughter from the men inside all fade into the background until there is only Saint sitting beside me and the strange little rhythm of my heart beating too quickly.

"What is it?"

There is nothing impatient in his voice. If anything, he sounds curious.

I look at our hands.

His thumb is moving slowly across my knuckles, almost absentmindedly, and the tenderness of it nearly steals the words from my mouth.

"I..." I swallow. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you all day."

A faint crease appears between his brows. "Is something wrong?"

"No." I smile. "Not wrong."

He watches me carefully. "Then what is it?"

I take a breath. "I bought you something."

His eyebrow lifts. "Something?"

I nod lightly.

"What did you buy me?"

I can't help chuckle. "If I tell you, then it won't be a surprise."

He gives me a look that makes me laugh again.

"You're terrible at keeping secrets."

"I've kept this one all day."

His eyes narrow slightly. "Now I'm concerned."

"You shouldn't be."

I squeeze his hand. "I'm serious, Saint. It's good."

Something softens in his face. "Okay."

I stare at him, suddenly aware that this is the moment I have imagined since the two pink lines appeared beneath my trembling fingers yesterday morning.

I can tell him. I can finally tell him. The words are right there.

I part my lips to deliver the news.

Just then the clubhouse door behind us slams open.

"President."

Saint's expression changes before the man even reaches us.

One of the club members, Cole, steps outside with his phone in his hand. His face is tense, and there is something in his eyes that immediately makes the warmth leave my chest.

Saint releases my hand. "What?"

"We've got a problem."

"What kind?"

Cole glances toward me, as if waiting for permission to drop the blow.

Saint notices. "Talk."

"Someone hit one of the north routes."

Saint stands immediately. "Who?"

"We don't know yet, Prez."

"How many are they?"

"Three vehicles. Maybe four."

Saint's jaw tightens. "Anyone hurt?"

"Two prospects. They're alive."

He looks at Cole for a long moment. "Lock the clubhouse down. Now"

Cole nods at me. "And the lady?"

Saint looks at me. "She stays with me."

My stomach twists in fear "What's happening?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"People are apparently shooting at your club, Saint."

"I said I have it handled."

His voice isn't harsh, but it leaves no room for argument.

He reaches for my hand again. This time, his fingers close around mine more tightly.

"Come on, let's go."

We go inside.

The atmosphere has changed completely.

Men who had been laughing minutes ago are now moving with purpose. Chairs scrape against the floor. Phones ring. Someone shuts and locks the front doors. I can hear orders being shouted from the back of the clubhouse while Saint walks through the middle of it all with the kind of calm that only makes me more nervous.

This is his world.

I have always known that. I just don't think I've ever seen how quickly it can turn.

Saint leads me toward his office. "Stay here."

"You're leaving me?"

"I'm going to find out what happened."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"No." The answer is immediate.

I stare at him. "Saint."

"Mia." His voice softens. "Please."

That one word does more than an order would have.

I stop.

He touches my cheek. "I'll be back."

I nod. And he turns and leaves. I watch the door close behind him.

My hand instinctively moves to my stomach.

The baby.

I think about the little black socks sitting in my bedroom drawer and smile despite everything.

****

I spend the next twenty minutes sitting in Saint's office, listening to voices move through the hallway.

Then the door opens again and Saint steps inside.

"We're leaving."

I stand immediately. "Why?"

"Because whoever attacked wasn't looking for territory."

"What were they looking for?"

His expression is grim. "Me."

My heart drops."What?"

He walks toward me and picks up my purse from the chair.

"You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"Somewhere safe."

"I thought the clubhouse was safe."

"It was." The way he says *was* makes my stomach tighten.

I follow him outside.

The sun is beginning to sink, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that look completely wrong against the tension surrounding us.

Two SUVs are waiting near the entrance.

Saint opens the rear door of the first one. "Get in."

I stare at him. "You're driving?"

"No. I'll be behind you."

Something about that bothers me. "Why?"

"Because I need to make sure the road is clear."

He looks at me until I finally climb inside. Before closing the door, he leans down. "Keep your phone on."

"I will."

"And don't open the door for anyone except me."

I nod. His eyes linger on my face. For one second, I see something I can't name. Fear, maybe. Or worry.

Then he reaches inside and touches my cheek. "I'll see you soon."

The door closes and the SUV pulls away. I watch Saint disappear behind us on his motorcycle.

For the first few minutes, everything is strangely quiet.

I sit in the back seat with my purse in my lap, staring through the window as the clubhouse disappears behind us.

The driver, Cole, keeps both hands on the wheel.

"Where are we going?"

"Prez safe house."

"How far?"

"Twenty minutes."

I nod and look down at my purse. The little black box is inside.

I brought it with me this morning because I couldn't stand the thought of leaving it behind.

My fingers find the edge through the leather.

I smile as I press my palm over my stomach.

"Your dad is going to be shocked," I whisper.

Cole glances at me through the mirror. "Everything okay?"

I smile. "Yeah, eve—" before the sentence is complete from my lips.

Something hits us. The entire SUV jerks sideways.

I scream as my shoulder slams against the door.

Cole fights with the steering wheel. "What the hell—"

Another impact sends us across the road. A truck comes out of nowhere. It crashes into the rear quarter of the SUV, sending us spinning.

My purse flies from my lap. The little black box falls onto the floor.

And glass explodes beside my head. I cover my stomach with both arms.

Cole is shouting something into the radio or phone or whatever I don't know.

"President, we've been hit!"

Cole swerves again as another vehicle appears behind us. Then another.

"They're surrounding us," Cole says.

Saint's voice comes through the radio.

"Keep driving."

"They're trying to push us off the road."

"I said keep driving."

His voice is controlled, but I can hear the strain beneath it.

I grab the CB radio from Cole at once "Saint!" I shout in panic.

"Mia? I'm coming."

The words calm me immediately.

Of course he is. He's my husband. He'll come for me.

A burst of gunfire tears through the back window. I duck.

Cole curses and accelerates. My heart is beating so violently that I feel sick.

"Saint. Where are you?"

"Behind you."

I look through the shattered rear window. For a second, I see his motorcycle.

Black jacket. Black helmet. Relief floods through me so quickly that I almost cry.

Then another vehicle slams into ours— and the SUV flips. Everything turns upside down.

I scream as my body is thrown against the seat belt.

The world becomes glass, metal, shouting, and darkness.

Then— Nothing.

Only a voice that says " Let's see which one the president is willing to lose."