close. But something is better than nothing for most of these spoiled brats." He pushed back to his feet and brushed the dirt from his pants before holding his hand out to me. "Come on; there's loads to be done today. Let's keep going."
I took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull me to my feet. But he didn't immediately release my fingers, and I felt a panicked blush creeping up my neck. Had people guessed that we were more than...? Ugh, we weren't even friends.
Fucking hell, of course they had. Dylan hadn’t exactly been circumspect about his interest in me so far. Maybe he didn't care if people found out. Did I want that?
Well... if I really was pregnant, it was sure as fuck going to push the issue.
The rest of the day was surprisingly enjoyable. It was exhausting, no question of that, but when Dylan and I walked back to camp at the end of the day, we had settled into a weirdly comfortable relationship, like we were actually dating and had just been out to dinner and drinks to get to know each other better... except with hunting and tracking. Go figure.
We’d barely made it halfway to the dining hall, though, when everything went sideways.
A convoy of black SUV's came tearing up a driveway I'd never even realized existed—seeing as they'd made us hike our asses in when we arrived—and some serious-shit kind of guys piled out onto the grass.
"What the fuck?" Dylan muttered under his breath, his brow creasing deeply as he glared at the new arrivals. He marched over to them with authority radiating from every step, and I nervously followed behind—mostly because I had no idea what else I should do.
One of the guys—the one I assumed to be in charge due to his solid eye contact with Dylan—jerked his head in a small nod. He wore a sharp black suit with a black shirt and tie underneath, but it was still obvious he wore several handguns as well.
"Sir," the man greeted Dylan, "we apologize for just showing up. Your email auto-reply advised us that you were in the woods for the day."
Dylan gave a short nod. "We were. Forest survival and hunting." His words were clipped and cold. "What can I do for you?"
The man shifted his gaze past Dylan to me, then back to Dylan. "Is this Brooklyn Lawson?"
My eyes widened. They were here for me? Why? What for? What had I done?
My stomach clenched, and I instantly thought of Blake. It couldn't be a coincidence that he’d gone missing and now these scary-ass dudes were here for me. No way. This had Blake written all over it... somehow.
"What can I do for you, Kingston?" Dylan repeated his question with a harder edge to his voice and without answering the other man’s question.
Kingston's jaw tightened, and I got the feeling he didn't appreciate Dylan ignoring him. But then... if he worked for Delta, then Dylan was his superior. Who was he going to complain to?
"Sir, we've been asked to bring Brooklyn Lawson into Delta headquarters. Immediately." His gaze shot to me again, flicking over me like he was confused how, exactly, I could be important enough to be taken into HQ. But fuck, I was more in the dark on the subject than he was; he'd get no answers from me.
Dylan took my elbow in his grip and jerked me closer to him. "I think we should speak in my office."
Kingston didn't like that answer. Not even close. "Sir, I have orders—"
"And I'm overriding them," Dylan snapped. "My office. Now."
There was no room for negotiation in his tone, and Kingston reluctantly moved in the direction of Dylan's little office cabin. I hadn't even been inside myself, but the way Dylan gripped my arm made it pretty damn clear I was going wherever he was going, no arguments.
One of the other armed men followed along with Kingston, but at a glare from Dylan, he stationed himself outside the cabin door rather than joining the three of us inside.
Dylan marched me around his desk and pushed me into his chair, then indicated for Kingston to take one of the guest chairs. I was so damn nervous my whole body was quaking, and I struggled to choke back another wave of nausea. What would these guys do if I projectile vomited everywhere?
"Why don't you explain to me what this is all about, Kingston?" Dylan suggested, hovering over the back of my chair like some kind