Not fireworks.
Not an engine.
A gunshot.
Glass exploded beside us.
I screamed.
Ethan’s arm came around my head as he pushed Sophie and me behind a concrete barrier.
His men fired back.
The Escalade swerved.
Tires screamed.
Then it disappeared behind a maintenance building.
“Car!”
Ethan barked.
Within seconds, we were inside a black armored SUV.
I was shaking so hard I could barely hold Sophie.
“What was that?”
Ethan climbed in beside me.
“Someone who knows you landed.”
“Who?”
“We’re going somewhere secure.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“My family.”
I stopped breathing.
He continued.
“And possibly yours.”
Ethan’s safe house wasn’t a house.
It was a fortress disguised as a penthouse.
Bulletproof windows overlooked Chicago.
Armed security stood in hallways decorated with paintings that probably cost more than every diner I’d ever worked in.
But the room Ethan put me in had something that didn’t belong.
A crib.
A changing table.
Formula.
Diapers.
Size six-to-nine-month baby clothes.
All prepared before we arrived.
I turned slowly.
“You knew Sophie was coming.”
Ethan stood in the doorway.
“Yes.”
My fear transformed into fury.
“You planned this.”
“I planned to protect you.”
“You stalked me.”
“No.”
“You knew my flight.
My name.
My daughter’s age.
You had a nursery waiting.”
His jaw tightened.
“I had seventy-two hours.”
“Seventy-two hours since what?”
“Since your sister contacted me.”
My rage disappeared.
“Camila?”
He nodded.
I stared.
“My sister knows you?”
“Better than she should.”
I pulled out my phone.
Ethan crossed the room and took it before I could unlock it.
“Give that back.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“Your number is compromised.”
“You don’t get to tell me—”
The phone rang in his hand.
