Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
It isn’t like she hasn’t snuck a handful of hours into Kendall’s case each day. I’ve done the same thing, so I won’t criticize her for it. We wouldn’t be us if we acted like we were the only important people in each other’s lives.
I don’t mind sharing Macy’s time with Kendall. Her fierce work ethic gives me plenty of time to bond with Mason, our son. A smile hikes my cheeks when I recall how firmly that kid has me wrapped around his finger. I wouldn’t have it any other way. When we were at Kailany’s birthday party last month, I couldn’t stop praising his achievements. Mason was born early, but his development has occurred in leaps and bounds. He’s no longer the skinned rabbit I was afraid would break the first time I changed his dirty diaper under the watchful eye of a nursery nurse. His cheeks are chubby, and he slams down his bottles like he’s chugging a beer.
I love that little guy, and I love his mother too.
They are it for me.
Although I can imagine how blissful our life would be if we worked standard hours and didn’t have the weight of thousands of missing women on our shoulders, that isn’t our reality.
This is us. We’re the change the world needs to get better, and I’m honored to be a part of something bigger.
As Macy prepares for her first undercover sting since becoming a mother, I hover, feeling as useless as tits on a bull. I made sure Macy was mic’d up correctly and that her comms were clear, but that was the only task on my agenda. This is Macy’s baby.
Despite the trawler’s net being too far south, the bureau’s finest are working on tonight’s sting. We’re family. When one of our own needs help, we band together.
The remembrance won’t stop me from issuing a final warning, though. “If anything goes wrong tonight, you’ll answer to me. Understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, Agent Rogers” bellows out of the comms system on the desk in the suite. Only one person is brave enough to refer to me by my first name.
“Yes, Grayson.”
Adeline is working decoy tonight. Should Macy appear uncomfortable, Adeline will do whatever is necessary to get her out. A spilled drink, an irate ex-girlfriend. She will play any role required to ensure the safe evacuation of the lead agent.
I have confidence in our team and the woman leading them, but there’s no harm in making sure Macy knows she can change her mind at any time. She’s still technically on medical leave, so no one would bat an eye at her sitting this one out.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take point on this, Mace? You can stay here with Mason and order room service. It will be on Crew’s dime, and we both know he doesn’t work doubles because he needs the money.”
Macy shoots me a look that shows love, but also that she thinks I’m an idiot. “We agreed that our son needs one parent with him at all times. We didn’t become parents at our age to hand his care over to someone else.” As I dip my chin in complete agreement, her smoky eyes rake my body. “And as sexy as you’d look in a dress, I remember how loudly you whined the last time I strapped a makeshift extender to your midsection.”
A splutter vibrates my lips as I waggle my brows. “I think I could pull it off.”
She grins before she presses her red-painted lips to my mouth. Her fake stomach folds when it digs into my belt buckle. “You’re a lot of things, Malfoy, but an undercover presenting as a soon-to-be single mother isn’t one of them.”
The briefest glimpse of determination in her eyes ends my campaign. “Fine. But if anything feels off, pull out. No heroics.”
She agrees, already in agent mode. “Understood.”
I scoop up Mason, who’s fussing in his travel bassinet. Even though he doesn’t have my blood, I tell anyone who will listen the origin of his name. It’s half of Macy’s name and half of mine—because that is precisely what he is. Ours.
While Macy straps her gun to her specially ordered thigh holster, I settle into an oversized armchair in the living room to feed Mason. Even though he doesn’t drink every hour now, his greedy gulps make you think he hasn’t been fed for days. He drinks hungrily, his tiny fingers curling around my index finger more than his bottle.
Macy’s admiring glance shifts to shock when he slams down half a bottle in a matter of minutes, barely coming up for air. I burp him as taught by the nurses during the two weeks I took care of him when Macy couldn’t.
Chuckles boom through comms when his burp rattles through Macy’s listening device, and then he rewards my efforts with a sleepy smile. Macy says his grins are wind smiles, but his enormous burp before it reveals what it’s really about.