Continuing his assault, he alternates between soft, gentle touches and frantic plunders. In between each one, his melodic, gravelly words wash over me.
“Missed you. Need you…”
Given another minute, I’ll welcome him back into my bed—even in a hospital, so I pull away.
Frustrated, he slumps his forehead against my chin. “What’s this about anxiety and contractions?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. After seeing the broadcast, I had an anxiety attack. This one snuck up on me, and I couldn’t control it.” I shiver, remembering the panic that hit after hearing the details of the murder. “It triggered some sort of false labor, I guess. Luckily, Faith showed up.”
He winces. “Yeah, about that…”
I glance up. “You know too?”
“About those two. Crazy, huh?”
“They won’t admit it.”
Rolling his eyes, he tilts his chin toward the door where they stand outside. “Friends, my ass.”
I shrug and snuggle into him. “Let them have their pretend secret. I’m not condoning what Faith’s doing, but from what I hear, her husband’s a colossal asshole who sticks his dick in anything with a hole.”
“My fiancée is so demure.” He laughs.
“You know damn well I’ve never been demure a day in my life.”
“I refuse to comment on the grounds that I don’t know the current coordinates of your stun gun.”
“Your nuts are safe. Our kid needs a sibling someday,” I assure him with a grin.
New York or California, state laws be damned, I go nowhere without the one thing that saved both our lives from his stalker.
He nods toward the monitor. “Is that sound the baby?”
I listen to the soft swooshing sound. “Yes. The baby’s fine. I need to take it easy. I know I promise a lot of things I don’t do, but I promise, Julian—I’ll protect this baby.”
He brushes his lips across mine again, the ghost dimple I adore so much sinking deep into his cheek. “And I promise I’ll protect you. Now, I need to talk to the doctors so we can get you out of here.”
“I’ve told you everything already.”
He grins and bounces off the bed. “Not everything. We have hardcore making up to do. I need to verify you’re up for it.”
“Pig!” I shout as he slams the door, but my smile quickly fades.
We may have made up, but there’ll be another fight.
Because as soon as Julian heads to the studio, I’m headed to Griffith Park.
Four
Julian
After bringing Phoebe home and checking on her for the fifth time in half an hour, I rest my head against our bedroom doorframe and watch her sleep.
A familiar fire in my body aches for her. The woman has a hold on me like no one ever has, but she needs rest.
I still have a hard time believing after all the bullshit the last two years has dealt, fate had somehow intervened and handed me a dream on a silver platter.
Or wrapped in sheets, as the case may be.
Thoughts of going back on tour make me sick. The timing couldn’t be worse. Protecting my family is crucial. Glancing at her long dark hair falling over the side of the mattress, I tighten my jaw and close my eyes.
I promised she’d be safe, and I’d failed miserably.
Reluctantly, I push away from the wall and walk downstairs, cursing my ignorance. I thought moving her across the country would give us an advantage in getting ahead of the bastard.
I was wrong.
The band had talked about making the move to Cali for years, so it seemed like the perfect solution. Opportunities in New York were too limited, and our label, Surge Records, owned an office in Los Angeles.
It’d been hard to leave my manager. I’d been with Helena four years. She’d put up with a lot of shit from me following our bandmate’s death and my subsequent year of asshole antics. I refused to leave without a recommendation, so she’d given me the name of a new manager in LA with her best wishes.
I’m still not sure how to take that.
Regardless, I’ll be meeting with Kristina Graham of Graham & Associates Management Agency soon. Even the name sounds tight-assed. I hope Miss Graham knows what the hell she’s up against.
My mind is a minefield of unanswered questions as I barrel into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Snagging a beer, I pop the top with a flick of my wrist. After indulging in two lengthy drinks, I pull out my phone.
Missed calls? None.
Why the hell do I pay people if they can’t fucking find him? His ass should’ve been