There is no hope of winning. It doesn’t matter if it’s true. It only matters what it looks like.
It would be easy enough to prove that Thorin, Khalil, and Seth were the search and rescue team tasked with finding me. From there it was only a matter of connecting the dots. They show up here as my new bodyguards after I went missing for months and reappeared out of thin air. It would be impossible to convince the world, much less a judge, that they weren’t involved.
And then there’s the fact that I’m pregnant and clearly conceived before my return to the States.
The only thing I can do is tell the same story that I gave the sheriff. That my uncle hired men to kill me—which he did—and my bodyguards heard my plight and saved my life by shielding me from him—which was only partially true.
The only problem is I have no proof.
The men he hired are dead, and my uncle could easily claim that he sent them there solely to find my body and bring me home for burial. We’ll still end up looking like the bad guys and my uncle the hero.
I’m screwed with a capital F.
“We can’t wait until after the baby is born,” I tell my guys once we’re alone. We’re in the apartment instead of the house because I couldn’t stand being in the car long enough to make it there. I’m pacing the length of the living room, my toes sinking into the plush carpet, the city lights through the large windows winking at me, and my hand on my aching belly as my mountain men watch me from their seats with worried frowns. “I have to kill him. I have to kill himnow.”
“We actuallycan’tkill him now. You’ve already been served the papers. Marston George being murdered hours later will only land you the number one spot on the suspect list.”
“What about Logan Abbott?” I say.
Thorin sighs with impatience, and I pivot to face him looking so out of place in the white tufted chaise with shaggy throw pillows all around him. “Yes, I know what you’re thinking. There are probably dozens of Logan Abbotts out there who want him dead and no one who will mourn him, but you’re the one with the most compelling motive, wolf. It’d be an open-and-shut case.”
“Other than firing him as your manager, no one knew of the rift between you,” Khalil points out, “and even then, he had more reason to hurt you than the other way around. This petition will have everyone looking atyou.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. He can’t do this to me. I can’t—aaaaargh,” I groan as I bend over to relieve the cramping in my stomach. “Gaaah, I can’t wait.”
“Aurelia, sit down,” Khalil demands.
“No.” I start pacing again, but wince when I’m hit with another cramp.
“AURELIA, SIT DOWN!” Khalil roars.
I jump and then feel tears immediately welling in my eyes. “Don’t yell at me,” I wail. “I’mscaaaared.”
“Fuck.” Khalil jumps up from his seat and takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry, Goldilocks. Hey, stop that. Please stop crying,” he begs when I sob harder.
I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. “I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s already taken everything, and he still wants more.”
“He hasn’t taken us,” Thorin reassures me as he comes to stand behind me and rub his hand across my back. “We’ve got you. We’ll fix this. Marston George will die.”
“In the meantime, how can we make this better for you? What can we do right now?”
I sniffle and lift my head to see Khalil, who asked the question. “Cheeseburger.”
Once the guys bring me the fattest, juiciest cheeseburger they can find, and I fill it with fries and chocolate sauce before devouring it in a handful of bites, it feels like I’m thinking clearer.
Enough to say, “I know what to do.”
Khalil and Seth, who are sitting on top of the counter together, staring at something on Seth’s phone while I eat, look up. Thor is sitting next to me with his fingers linked on his abs and his head tipped back as he naps sitting up. His blue eyes pop open, and he regards me with a steady patience.
“What do you mean?”
“I know how to deal with my uncle without breaking a single law.”
“How’s that?”
“My uncle has been misappropriating the funds I entrusted him with, and he’s likely been doing it for years, but on a much larger scale since learning how hard I am to kill. If we can find the proof, we can hand it over to the Feds and ruin him for good. He’ll be facing prison time, and no judge on earth will grant him a conservatorship after that.”
“How do you plan to get the proof?” Khalil questions. “I doubt he just leaves the evidence of his misdeeds lying around.”
