I say, ending the call.
Silas Sheppard.
He wasn’t Sam Sheppard, but he must be related to Samuel if they have the same last name. Father maybe? Did he nearly beat his father to death just to steal his FBI badge and pretend to be him? That sounds ludicrous, but what other possible explanation is there?
I was so hurt when he left. But now, I’m so…so angry at him for lying to me!
And confused about why he would do this to me.
The problem is, while his name may have changed, the fact that I’m pregnant with his son or daughter certainly has not.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Silas
* * *
I’ve been thinking about Cora so often that, at first, I think I’m just imagining her sitting on the side of my bed when I come out of the shower.
But then I realize that if I were fantasizing about her being in my bedroom, I wouldn’t want her to be holding me at gunpoint with the Smith & Wesson I fucking gave her.
She’s here. Really here in my house.
Which means…she’s figured out who I really am, and now she apparently wants to kill me for lying to her.
Wrapping my towel around my hips, I tuck it in to one side and ask her, “How did you find me?” since that seems like the best place to start.
“Ha! That’s what you want to start with?” she asks, her scowl telling me she’s pissed.
“Well?”
“The same way you found me,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Did you follow me home from the island?”
“No, I didn’t follow you back like some pathetic puppy dog!” she yells. “I called the local FBI office to try and find you a few days after you left, because…because there was something important I needed to tell you! Imagine my surprise when I found out that the real Agent Sheppard was brutally beaten. You stole his badge, didn’t you?”
“Ah,” I mutter.
“Of course you did. So, I thought about why someone would go to all the trouble to lie to me and convince me to leave town, to pretend that I’m dead, and that’s when it hit me. You weren’t protecting me, you were basically kidnapping me so I wouldn’t testify in court, weren’t you?”
“Pretty much,” I agree. “Still doesn’t explain how you tracked me down to here, my house.”
She scoffs and shakes her head in disgust that I’m still asking questions rather than answering any of hers.
“Let me guess,” I start. “The articles online about Nash Kincaid’s arrest mentioned he was a member of the Dirty Aces MC. You decided to find out where the Dirty Aces hang out, ended up at the pool hall, and there I was.”
“There you were!” she agrees. “Guess now I know what those skull tattoos are really about!”
“Maybe you should do some private eye work on the side when you’re not cooking,” I joke.
“This is not funny!” Cora exclaims, getting to her feet and in the shooting stance I fucking taught her. “Not only are you a fraud and a liar, but you nearly killed a federal agent? What is wrong with you?”
“Hold on. Back up,” I say, holding up my palm to stop her. “What do you mean nearly killed a federal agent? He’s not fucking dead? Are you sure?” I should’ve looked up his obituary, but I was so certain he was dead when I left him...
“Really? That’s your first reaction?” Cora asks, her face turning the same red as her hair used to be, the gun starting to tremble in her hands. “You wish you had killed the man you nearly beat to death for his badge?”
“Yeah, I do,” I reply, bracing my hands on the towel around my hips. “That asshole deserves to rot in hell.”
“So…you-you do know him?”
“Unfortunately. He’s my father,” I admit to her.
“He is?” The gun in her hands drops a few inches before she lines it back up at eye-level again.
“Enough about him. I don’t want to talk about that asshole. What I want to know is why you’re here, baby? Did you come to kill me?” I take three cocky steps toward her. Fuck, I hope I’m right to think she won’t actually pull the trigger.
“Y-yes,” she says, the single word even shakier than her hands gripping the gun. For the first time since I walked into the room naked, her eyes dip down to my chest, then lower to my abs and finally to the part covered by the towel.
“Really?” I taunt her, moving close enough that the cool metal of