by Eve Langlais
“Because you’re sleeping with a cyborg,” he said with a sneer.
She rolled onto his chest and peered into his eyes wanting to see them when she said, “No, because I’m pregnant with one.”
Good thing he was already lying down. His eyes rolled back in his head.
But he’d waken soon and then probably pass out when she mentioned it was twins.
She snuggled him. Her grumpy cyborg husband.
To her surprise, she heard his voice inside her head, My pixie stowaway bride. Together, forever.
The alley proved empty this time of night. Very little light shone, leaving it draped in shadows.
The stench of things rotting seeped from the very stone itself. The garbage collectors had obviously not been by in some days.
This most auspicious of locations was where the note indicated Kobrah Jameson should come.
A note written on scrap paper and one a sane man would have ignored. After all, he recognized the looping scrawl.
It was that familiarity that drew him from the safety of his ship, eschewing any guards as protection. Not even telling anyone but the Moth where he went.
A scuff had him whirling, facing the far end of the alley where the darkness hung deepest.
“Might as well come out. I know you’re there.”
He could feel it. An anticipation pulsing in his breast.
At first, he didn’t even notice, so cleverly did the cloak conceal their presence. But as the person neared, he began to make out details. The tears in the fabric. The limp in the gait.
“Stop and show yourself.” Because he had to be sure. His hand rested on the grip of his sidearm.
The figure halted. Lifted pale hands and pulled back a hood. Blonde hair pulled back taut. Bright blue eyes. Gaunt features with dark circles showing her fatigue.
She looked beaten. Tired. Yet she still drew him even after her betrayal.
“It’s been awhile. Wife.” He couldn’t help that hard inflection, that reminder of what she’d done. She’d abandoned him. Without word. Without apology. Backstabbing him and the crew. Now, four EC years later, she thought she could just contact him out of the blue and…what? What did her note mean when she said, Help us.
Help who?
“Kobrah.” She folded her hands over her stomach, keeping her gaze straight. “Thank you for coming.”
“As if I wouldn’t. I’ve been waiting for this moment.” The gun left his holster and aimed at a spot between her eyes.
Going into the meeting he’d convinced himself he could do it. Kill the woman who’d betrayed him. Free himself to be with another.
Faced with her… She didn’t plead for mercy. Didn’t ask for forgiveness.
Someone else did. “Don’t kill my mommy.” A small figure darted from the shadows, wrapped herself around the woman’s legs, and stared at him defiantly.
Bright blue eyes, light brown skin, and a mass of curls haloing her head.
A roaring white wave of shock hit Jameson as he gaped. He managed to stutter, “Who?”
Dara’s chin angled higher. “Say hello to your daughter.”
Stayed tuned for The Captain’s Secret Daughter
Also by Eve Langlais
More books and information at: EveLanglais.com