That was all the confirmation Brea needed. Astonishment closed her throat as she turned to tug on Cage’s sleeve. “Oh, my gosh, he’s really here? Can you see him?”
“Yeah. Somehow, he slipped past all our security and waltzed right the hell in. I’ll be damned…”
Thank God!
All Brea could hear was her own heartbeat roaring in her ears as she held in a jubilant cry and dashed through the thick crowd. She didn’t care if she was rude or that she bumped into Jennifer Lawrence’s back, spilling the woman’s drink. She only cared about reaching Pierce.
“Fuck off.” That voice—a dark, sure rasp that always held a note of irritation…except when he talked to her.
Definitely Pierce. She’d never heard anything so wonderful.
Her heart lifted. Joy soared. She pressed even quicker through the throng toward him.
“Now isn’t the time. Cutter doesn’t need this tonight.” Josiah again, clearly trying to keep the peace. “He just got married.”
“I don’t give a shit about him,” Pierce growled as he yanked free from Josiah’s hold. “Where’s—” Suddenly, their eyes met. He breathed her name. “Brea…”
She gaped, speechless. Montilla was dead, and Pierce was really, really here.
They were free!
As people around her parted to clear her path, Brea’s feet took her forward. She stopped short of Pierce, trembling. She couldn’t stop staring.
He looked even leaner and more dangerous than he had in December. His burning black eyes sat deep in their sockets as he looked her over, his stare lingering on her middle. She wrapped her hands around their baby. His thick beard was back. He was horribly out of place in a black T-shirt and camo pants. But the sight of him brought her to tears.
“Brea?” he boomed over the residual chatter and music. She was vaguely aware of heads turning and people whispering. He didn’t seem to care. His sole focus was on her.
Her throat closed up, and her voice caught. “Pierce…”
Never breaking their stare, he tossed a chair out of the path between them and charged toward her. Brea’s eyes widened as he backed her against the nearby buffet table with his big body. “I need to talk to you, pretty girl. It won’t wait.”
The torment on his face ripped at Brea’s heart. Was something wrong? She looked around for privacy so they could talk, but all she saw was a crowd of curious bystanders. “No. Not here. Please.”
Josiah shoved his way between them with a no-means-no speech all over his face and gave Pierce a push just as Cutter approached, expression hard. “You weren’t invited, asshole.”
Pierce tore his gaze from her to scowl at him. “You’re married now, and Brea is mine. That’s my baby she’s carrying. So. Back. The. Fuck. Off.”
“Hey, looks like she doesn’t want your company tonight, big guy,” Josiah cajoled. “Turn around, get in your Jeep, and head to Lafayette.”
Darn it all, Josiah had no idea what she wanted, much less how badly she wanted to touch Pierce. He was working off old gossip. She’d venture most people here were. And she appreciated that Josiah meant to protect her, but this was ridiculous. “No. It’s—”
“Like hell,” Pierce growled, then settled his weighty stare on her again. “I’ve waited weeks for this.”
They both had.
After more squabbling Brea ignored, Cutter’s bride approached, holding out her hand to Pierce. “Shealyn West. Well, Bryant now. Pierce, Brea is dealing with a lot. She will talk to you when she’s ready. I know she wants to. She just needs a little more space and a bit more time to decide what to do.”
What?
Brea hadn’t spilled the details of her relationship with Pierce to the actress. Apparently, Cutter had respected her privacy, too. Either that or Shealyn had been too busy planning their wedding over the last four weeks while flying back and forth between big-city LA and small-town middle-Texas to get the 411. Either way, she wished all the well-meaning people who didn’t understand what was going on would simply shut up.
Pierce took Shealyn’s hand with a scowl. “What is there to decide? She’s going to marry me.”
Marry? Brea’s breath caught. Had he really just said that? Pierce had never used that word…yet he spoke like it was a forgone conclusion.
Shealyn cocked her head as if trying to make him see reason. “You can’t force her—”