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A strangled noise rises from my throat. I think I’m going to be sick all over my desk. Killian says, “Juliet?” I slam down the receiver, disconnecting the call, and sit there staring at it, shaking. The baby. Oh my god. What if I’m pregnant? What have I done? I think back to the first time I saw him in the bar at La Fiesta the night we stole the truckload of diapers from him. I remember the look on his face. That smug, self-satisfied look. How he and his FBI buddies must have laughed at my stupidity. After all, it was me who started the ball rolling. I broke into his warehouse. What a gift that was to them! What a fantastic turn of events! They’d probably been trying to find a way to bring down my father for years, and there I came, waltzing in like an oblivious i***t, the perfect s
- Writer
