“We’re a thing,” Valen said. “Spread the word.”
Then Valen dragged Harris out of the station, and Harris wasn’t sure how he wanted to react. He was still second-in-command. He was so old next to Valen and Sam.
“Your dad’s gonna blow his top,” Harris said.
“He already did. We’re gonna get our Sam back.” Valen led them to the truck.
Harris climbed into the truck after Valen, shut the door. Then Valen hauled Harris in by the neck, and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips. “But before we go find Sam—are we okay?”
Harris breathed him in, his heart thumping. “Maybe. Depends on whether Sam is.”
Valen sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay.”
They pulled out of the station, and Harris could only hope that he hadn’t screwed up more than he’d already done.
35
Sam
“One of the CCTVs has been acting up lately,” Wyatt said as they were cleaning up, preparing to close. “We haven’t been able to monitor the back of the drive-in.”
Sam wiped down the kitchen counters, rubbing his palm down his belly. “Oh. I can’t help you there—you know I suck with tech.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Hey, it’s not so bad.”
“I couldn’t even find the memory stick the last time you needed me to.”
A few years back, before Wyatt’s second child had been born, Hazel had been kidnapped. Sam had panicked, and Wyatt’s sister had stepped in, pulling the footage from the drive-in’s video recordings.
“It turned out all right, didn’t it?” Wyatt smiled wanly. “Don’t worry about it. How are you getting home tonight?”
“I’m driving,” Sam said. “Kade’s place is not too far from here.”
Wyatt nodded. “Sure. If you need a lift, just tell me or Raph.”
“Thanks.” Sam rinsed off the washcloth, then reached for the stack of clean dishes.
“Here, I’ll do that,” Wyatt said. “Go home and get some rest.”
Sam frowned. “But—”
“You’re going to need the rest.” Wyatt smiled, glancing at Sam’s belly. “And you’ll need to prep your nursery, don’t you?”
There was that, too.
Two weeks ago, Sam had taken along that box of baby clothes from the mansion. He’d figured Valen and Harris didn’t need them, anyway. One of the stuffed hippos sat in his car, staring at him morosely whenever he drove.
Sam was wary of stairs now. Wary of tubs, and doorsteps, and everything that he could slip on. At seven months, he’d grown far too attached to Landon, had too much to lose, when Landon answered to the touches on his belly.
He missed Valen’s silly grins whenever he talked to the baby, missed Harris’ careful caresses down his abdomen. And maybe it had been foolish of him, sending Valen away.
Sam hadn’t dared text Valen, hadn’t dared ask how he was doing with Harris. He imagined them back together, snuggled in bed, their lives back to normal now that Sam wasn’t there.
That thought hurt.
He tucked his feelings away, tidied the knives, and waved goodnight to Wyatt. Pried open the back door, peering at the empty parking lot outside.
It wasn’t raining tonight—not when it was late summer, and the nights took far too long to cool.
When the shadows didn’t move, Sam stepped out and shut the door. Padded over to his car, wondering what he wanted for a midnight snack. Landon was picky. He didn’t like shrimp—Sam had acquired a mild seafood allergy that he hadn’t had before. Maybe a chicken salad, or maybe...
Someone moved behind his car. Sam’s stomach plummeted. Not again!
He backed toward the kitchen door, sliding his hand protectively over his belly. Watched as another shadow peeled away from the sidewalk, both advancing toward him.
A knife gleamed in the streetlamp.
If it had been one robber, Sam might’ve run. But two?
“Help,” Sam cried. Wasn’t sure if he was loud enough. “Help!”
“Shut up,” the robber said as he advanced with his accomplice, both tall and broad-shouldered. “Hand over your wallet.”
They closed in on him like predators, their footsteps quick and silent. Sam glanced at the empty parking lot. The cameras weren’t picking this up. Wyatt had no idea this was happening, and neither did Raph.
I hope I don’t die. I hope they leave my baby alone.
His heart sinking, Sam fished in his pocket. He’d returned Harris’ credit card; there wasn’t much left on him. Would the robbers get angry and attack?
The one with the knife reached him first.
Sam yelped and stepped back, and his heel hit the doorstep. He tripped, lurched back against the wall, his shoulders slamming into wood.
His breath knocked out of his lungs. He couldn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say, when the robber was two feet from him, flipping through his wallet.
Sam reached out, hit the back door with his fist. The knife flashed inches from his face.
“Stop that,” the robber hissed. “Make any noise, and we’ll slit your throat.”
He froze, his pulse thundering in his ears.
“Car keys,” the other robber said, his face hidden in the shadows of his hoodie. “This your car?”
Sam nodded jerkily. Don’t hurt my baby.
He made to reach for his car keys. The robber slapped his hand away, shoved his fingers into Sam’s pocket, and Sam jerked back on instinct. Shoved at the robber’s hand. The robber curled his fist around Sam’s throat, and Sam choked.
His back hit the wall; pain jolted through the back of his head. Sam cried out, wrapping his arms around his belly. Not the baby, not the baby.
“It’s not enough,” the first robber said, looking up from the wallet. He flicked the knife toward Sam. “Search him. Might have more.”
The second alpha grabbed Sam’s car keys, and Sam whimpered. That was all they were taking... right?
Tires screeched. Someone snarled, and doors slammed.
“Hands off him,” a man bellowed. A shape sprinted over—Harris, his eyes flashing, his teeth bared.
The robbers tensed. Sam sagged into the wall, relief whispering through him.
But there were two robbers, and one of Harris.
Harris launched himself at the first robber, sending him to the ground. The knife flashed. Sam’s heart lodged in his throat. The second robber released Sam, turning to help his accomplice.
Then footsteps pounded, and a second shape flew at the
