Now what he needed was to keep a clear head, focus on the case, and get the job done…but it was hard to stay on target when his mind kept wandering back to that amazing night. It would be so easy to give Olive a call, see if she was up for an encore—but that hadn’t been a part of the (admittedly unspoken) agreement. He knew how these things went. Olive hadn’t been his first one-night stand by any stretch of the imagination, and he wasn’t about to break the rules of engagement just because she had been great in bed. Fantastic in bed.
“Ugh.” Levon turned off into the high school parking lot reserved for maintenance vehicles, killed the engine, and dropped his forehead against the steering wheel. No more thinking about Olive. It should be an easy self-instruction, especially considering he was on the job.
Levon got out of his truck, yanking the janitorial jacket after him. He shrugged it on, finding it tight in the shoulders, but otherwise nondescript. Hopefully it would throw off any suspicion or questions as he snooped around.
He had volunteered for this case. It just made sense. This was his town, his old stomping grounds. If a gang was really trying to infiltrate the high school—to blackmail and enlist students into drug dealing—then there was going to be hell to pay. He’d make sure of it. He wasn’t going to see those kids endangered on his watch... them, or their teachers...
Annoyed at the repetitive direction his thoughts were taking, Levon withdrew his cell and raised it to his ear to review the most recent message from his team. He preferred voicemail to text, something the SSoF was perfectly willing to accommodate.
Asher, we just got a last-minute tip that some sort of deal or meeting is about to go down at the football field. Head out and find a place to observe. I repeat: observe. No charging in without my go-ahead.
“Yeah, yeah.” Levon pocketed his phone and sauntered to the edge of the parking lot. He took cover behind the brick corner of the cafeteria, then peered out at the field. It was Thursday, just past 1800 hours. The day was damp, the grey sky overcast as afternoon shaded into dusk, but it was still humid as hell. Visibility wasn’t exceptional, considering the fog that hung in the air like a stubborn haze.
He didn’t see anyone. Yet. That didn’t mean he could just stroll around in the open until he found a good hiding spot. He had his eye on one particular location, and he stole through the shadows now to get to it.
The old equipment shed had been the primo make-out spot on the school grounds back in his day, thanks in no small part to the fact that the lock on the door was broken. Something in Levon told him that even now, years later, that issue still wouldn’t be remedied... and his instincts were proven right.
By the time he arrived at the shed, he had noticed two shadowy figures detach themselves from underneath the football bleachers in the distance, and a third on its way from the student parking lot. It’s starting. He needed to hide. And fast.
Levon twitched the shed door open, careful not to creak so much as a floorboard as he slipped inside.
What he didn’t expect to find was another person waiting for him on the other side of the door.
His instincts took over. Levon thrust his palm up to smother the other individual’s mouth even as he backed them both soundlessly to the wall; he only managed to narrowly avoid colliding with a hanging net of basketballs, which could have been a catastrophic giveaway of his location. Their location. It was pitch black inside the shed so he had no idea who this person was, or what their intentions could possibly be hiding in the equipment shed—all that he knew in that moment was that the other person was alone, adult-sized, and possibly armed. Nothing more needed to register to prompt him to go for his gun.
Then the fragrance hit him—or more accurately, the perfume. He was so close that even the conservative dabbing of it was enough to overwhelm his senses: she smelled like fresh flowers, spring rain, and a dark, rich hint of something like coffee or cinnamon (or both).
Yeah. She.
“Olive?” Levon croaked in disbelief.
* * *
“Levon?” Olive’s own whisper was less guttural, but no less harsh or demanding as he withdrew his hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The equipment shed back behind the high school was the last place she had ever expected to encounter Levon Asher, yet here the man was: coiled to spring, big enough to fill the tiny structure with his formidable presence alone. She heard a tiny click and the rustle of clothes and a cold chill ran down her spine as she realized he was putting the safety back on his gun and tucking it away. That meant that before that moment, she’d had a gun pointed right at…well. Right at the part of her that he noticed at the same moment, as his hand accidentally brushed her recently swollen belly.
“You’re…” His palm settled heavily on the baby bump, as if confirming, and then he staggered back as if struck. His right shoulder collided with the net of basketballs beside them, and Olive leapt forward to stabilize them before they got loose and cascaded to the floor.
“Yeah. Surprise,” Olive said weakly.
She was seven months pregnant.
She was seven months pregnant with his child, to be precise.
But she had questions of her own. “You didn’t answer me,” she pointed out. “What are you doing back in town, Levon? What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same.” His hand brushed against her stomach
