Pete knew he shouldn’t have given in to his desires when it came to Keegan. At least, his brain knew it. His heart wasn’t so sure, and his body adamantly insisted that he’d made the best choice ever.

He’d been with men before, and he’d been married to Dmitry, but he’d never been with anyone who made him want the way Keegan did. The only problem was that giving in to what he wanted would make it that much harder to say no the next time, or to leave when the time came and he had to run.

Keegan wasn’t like any other alpha Pete had ever met. Alphas took care of omegas, but that was only in a material sense. They kept a roof over the omega’s head and made sure there was money in the bank account, so the omega could go out and buy groceries.

That was about it. Otherwise, alphas were taken care of. Sex was always about an alpha’s pleasure, and if an omega could learn to get off too, that was ideal. If not, well, no one cared much. Their material needs were met, and the alpha was happy.

Keegan had made sure Pete wasn’t just “kind of in the mood.” Pete had been out of his mind with need by the time Keegan finally worked his way inside. Getting filled by Keegan had been the sweetest relief, completion like nothing Pete had ever felt before.

It hadn’t just been a duty he had to endure to get from point A to point B. It had been perfect, and that made sex with Keegan so very dangerous.

Keegan was everything Pete’s ex wasn’t. Keegan was funny. He was charming. He was affectionate, he wasn’t controlling at all, and he didn’t seem to feel a need to put a label on their relationship.

He didn’t press for information, either. He just was, and that was everything he needed.

Keegan did make one observation about the past, the morning after they first made love in the huge bed Pete had picked out for Keegan. Apparently Keegan had noticed the old tattoos, or where the tattoos had been once upon a time. His comment was off-hand, made in the shower while he stood behind a kneeling Pete and washed Pete’s hair. “So, what — did you get sick of your old tats, or did you realize the one of Taz peeing on a Chevy logo was just gauche?”

Pete’s heart froze in his chest, but he had to play it cool. He couldn’t show any reaction to the question. Kneeling in the shower while he got his scalp massaged by the greatest lover he’d ever had was not the place to talk about witness protection.

There wasn’t ever an appropriate place to talk about witness protection, but this was absolutely not it.

“State secrets,” he told Keegan with a wink. Thank God he’d prepared for this, practiced for it. When he’d first gone into the program, he’d laughed at the thought of ever being in a position like this.

Cooper had made him rehearse answers anyway, so he’d be ready. Pete would have to send him a fruit basket.

Keegan just laughed and kept massaging Pete’s scalp, like it made him happy to do it. Seriously, he was the most un-alpha alpha ever. “Whatever,” he said, and gave Pete a peck on the cheek. “If you got the tattoo removed, it’s probably not an image you want to go advertising anyway, right?”

And that was it. He didn’t sound suspicious, he didn’t press for more details, he just accepted it and moved on.

If Pete had gone to the Creator with a list of attributes for a perfect husband, knowing what he knew now, the Creator would have given him Keegan. That was part of the problem, and Pete’s handler was the first one to point the problem out when Pete brought him up at their next check-in. “How well do you really know this guy?” Marshal Cooper asked him with a smirk.

Marshal Cooper was a tall, handsome man with muscles to spare. His skin was as dark as night, and Pete could have listened to his voice all day. Sometimes he wondered if the Agency had assigned Cooper to him purely because his looks would make an omega more likely to pay attention. He wouldn’t put it past the Agency.

“You know what he does for a living, but not where his money came from. Have you met his family?” Cooper continued, oblivious to Pete’s scrutiny. It was probably for the best, really. They’d both just be embarrassed in the end.

Pete slumped in his chair. He felt like he’d known Keegan his whole life, but he had to admit that wasn’t the case at all. They hadn’t had any of the long, intimate conversations that would tell him key facts. He knew how Keegan made him feel, but not much else.

“No. Well, I met a brother. He’s a wound a little tight. Tyler Cunningham.”

Cooper lifted his eyebrows and sat up straighter. Pete hadn’t expected that reaction at all. “Okay. Tyler Cunningham, hm?

“Well, I’ve at least heard of him. I wouldn’t want to face him, but I’ve heard of him. He’s making a name for himself as an attorney, and quickly, too.

“I’m not sure where he fits in with the rest of his family. Must be a lot of recessive genes.” He stroked his throat, almost protectively.

“Keegan says mostly the same thing.” Pete fussed with the hem of his shirt and grinned, just a little. He didn’t have siblings, but he’d known a lot of people who did. He liked the Cunningham brothers’ dynamic.

Cooper froze him with nothing more than a look. “See, this guy, this Keegan, and the rest of them? You don’t know them.

“I’ve done a little bit of research since you took him on as a client, because we do that here. I can tell you he comes from money, the kind of old money that makes George Washington look nouveau riche. His father’s the worst kind of dirtbag slumlord.

“Cunningham himself has a much better record, rehabbing low-income housing and doing a great job with more upscale property, but you have to wonder how far the apple falls from the tree. He’s also a member of a super-shady men’s club exclusively for alphas, and he’s got a reputation as a player and an absolute nincompoop.”

Cooper shrugged and gestured at his laptop screen. Pete frowned and squinted at it. He couldn’t quite see it, thanks to the glare from the awful fluorescent lights.

“How does that work, exactly? How does he do all of that real estate stuff — manage the properties, develop the properties, manage the construction projects, all of that — and somehow manage to remain a nincompoop?”

Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He didn’t ask who still used words like nincompoop. He didn’t think it would be welcome right now. “And is that a technical term?”

Cooper chuckled. “You’ve got a point. And you’re working with him on that Barton Gardens project, which is a pretty big deal. I guess you’d have a clearer picture of his candlepower than I would, when I’m just reading stuff on a page, right?

“There’s just one problem, and that’s his family. They’re awful people, and it is a technical term. I try not to make value judgements in this business, but I’ll make an exception for Beau and Ed Cunningham. They’re exactly the kind of people who would advertise if their precious alpha son went out and got married.”

Pete rubbed at his face. “No one’s talking about marriage, Marshal. We’re working together, we’re enjoying each other’s company, and that’s all. It’s way too early to think about marriage, seriously, but I understand how huge a problem it would be.”

His stomach roiled just thinking about it. He’d done marriage once. Marriage was a terrible thing, not an institution anyone should seek out. Even if Dmitry’s entire organization were wiped out, Pete wouldn’t get married again.

“You think?” Cooper picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. “Look. I get it. You’re an omega. You’ve got, er, drives, and stuff like that. I understand, sort of, I do.

“But you can’t just go around getting attached like this. Your ex, Dmitry, he’s not locked away on an island like Napoleon was, and even if he were, it’s pretty unlikely he’d be there alone. He’d be able to communicate. You can’t assume you’re safe just because you testified against him. That’s not how organized crime works.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “I know. I was there.” He stood up.

“I was there for a long time. I saw how organized crime works. I talked about how organized crime works, in front of a judge and a jury and a whole lot of other people.

“That’s kind of the whole point, isn’t it? And I don’t want to get Keegan hurt, or put him in danger. I’m not saying to break out the champagne and roses, or anything like that, far from it; but I’m not willing to get a nice guy hurt, either.”

“I respect that about you, Pete. You’re a good man.” Cooper’s face softened, just a little bit. “Here’s the thing. Keegan Cunningham isn’t my problem. Keeping you safe is my job.

“You getting all tangled up with the Cunninghams, or even just one Cunningham, would make my job harder, to the point where it would become nigh impossible. You feel me?”

Cooper raised an eyebrow at him. He looked like an oddly hot high school picture.

Pete did “feel” Cooper, intellectually anyway. Literally feeling him would probably involve guns. The problem was that he also “felt” Keegan, intellectually, emotionally, and physically, and it was quickly becoming an addiction.

He also worked with Keegan on a few projects, which would make disentangling their lives that much harder. Furthermore, he refused to believe that simply enjoying each other’s bodies and having fun could have the dire consequences foretold by his supervising marshal. As long as Pete remembered to take reasonable safety precautions, they should be okay, right?

As if the intersection between Pete’s physical needs, his emotional needs, and the requirements of the witness protection program wasn’t enough, Pete picked up on increasing fatigue in himself about three weeks after he and Keegan started sleeping together. His sensitivity to smells increased, too, and he developed a strong aversion to any food with pork in it.

He knew he should probably go see a doctor, but he didn’t need to have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on college and medical school to figure this one out. He was healthy as a horse most of the time, and these symptoms only had one cause, if taken all together.

Pete had never been all that paranoid when it came to pregnancy. He took reasonable precautions, but he always figured if it happened, it happened. That had been before, before his marriage and everything that came with it.

Dmitry had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that children were not an option. This is no life for babies, Piotr.

Not that Dmitry had been willing to take steps on his own to make sure he didn’t conceive, no. A truly manly man like Dmitry wasn’t getting a vasectomy. Pete had just known what would happen if he had any “happy accidents.”

And there hadn’t been, thank God. That didn’t mean condoms were any less of a roulette game then than they were now. Things happened. Condoms could be defective, or they could tear.

The odds had just caught up with him. At least it had happened now, with Keegan in New York, instead of with Dmitry back in San Fran. Pete wasn’t necessarily opposed to babies, as long as he could keep them safe.

Keeping a baby safe was an awfully big caveat, if he stopped to think about it.

He stopped at Duane Reade and picked up a pregnancy test, just to confirm his suspicions. Waiting around in his bathroom for the stupid test to finish was agony.

It was one thing for him to say he was neutral toward having a baby. It was another concept entirely to say he truly didn’t have any feelings about which way the test turned out.

He paced the length of his apartment, trying to wait out the timer without going insane. If it came back positive, he had to figure out what to do with a baby. Money wasn’t an issue. Staying safe while being pregnant and giving birth … that was the big deal. It wasn’t as bad as in the old days, when pregnant omegas had to hide themselves away, but pregnant men still stood out.

A pregnant man as tall as Pete would absolutely stand out, and that would increase the risk for everyone.

A pregnant man as tall as Pete, accompanied by someone who dressed in clothes that could be seen from space? He might as well call Dmitry on his personal phone and tell him where he was right now. Someone would be there in an hour to put a bullet into his head.

Which, to be honest, would probably be better than whatever Dmitry had planned for him.

No, a baby right now wasn’t feasible, and wouldn’t be feasible at all unless Dmitry and his whole cabal went back where they came from. And since no one knew exactly how many of them there were, a baby was right out of the question.

At the same time, the thought of a little baby, a mixture of himself and Keegan, couldn’t help but put a smile on his face. It would have Keegan’s smile, and Pete’s hair. It would have Keegan’s brains, and Pete’s good sense, and a combination of their sense of humor.

It would be beautiful. He might have to flee New York at any time, but he would have a treasure to remind him that trusting Dmitry hadn’t been his entire life.

So maybe it wasn’t impossible, just impractical.

He looked around his apartment. The place wasn’t much, but he’d definitely been in worse. By New York standards, especially by normal people New York standards, the place was a palace.

Pete had two bedrooms. They weren’t huge, and the apartment didn’t have much room to spare, but he could handle another person in his space. People raised kids in smaller spaces all the time.

He could make this work, damn it. He could. And having a small space meant they wouldn’t accumulate a lot of stuff. That would mean less junk to pack up if Dmitry caught up to him and they needed to flee in the middle of the night, God forbid.

What would it do to his child, for them to have to pick up in the middle of the night and run? To have to always be ready to run? Would the child have some kind of perpetual low-grade trauma, or would they just adapt and roll with it?

One thing was for sure. Pete had to be grateful for the Witness Protection program. He would never have been able to afford to even think about having a baby in New York without them.

Keegan could, and for most people child support was a thing, but Pete couldn’t count on Keegan. He had no doubt Keegan would step up right away and do the right thing, but Keegan’s options were limited.

Cooper wouldn’t want him to say anything to Keegan at all, but Pete couldn’t do that. He had to tell the baby’s father eventually. Keegan had the right to know, even if they couldn’t be an actual family.

Pete had no idea how he was supposed to break it to Keegan, either the pregnancy or the reality of his situation, but he would have to find a way.

He did take the time to indulge in a little fantasy. It would be nice to wake up and watch Keegan playing with their baby on the floor or rocking their baby to sleep in his strong arms. Keegan would make an amazing father.

Well, Keegan would find another omega someday, one who hadn’t screwed everything up long before they met. Pete had made the mistake of taking up with a monster long before he’d believed anyone like Keegan could exist.

He’d done the right thing in leaving, and in testifying against Dmitry, but he’d known when he left that the consequences would stay with him forever. And now they were doing exactly that. He could mourn, and he could fantasize about the might-have-beens, but only insofar as they didn’t get in the way of staying safe and getting things done.

Pete had made his bed years ago. Now he had to lie in it.

Keegan kicked Ty’s shin under the table. He didn’t kick hard. He wasn’t trying to hurt his brother, not this time, anyway.

They were both adults. Ty hadn’t tattled, and Keegan, to be fair, hadn’t done anything worthy of tattling on. He just wanted to wake Ty up and clear away some of the glazed look on the kid’s face.

The guy was supposed to be a hotshot lawyer. He already had bad guys backing down at the mere thought of facing him in court. Why did he turn into a damn doughnut every time he walked into their dads’ house?

It wasn’t natural or right. The kid needed help. Fortunately for him, Keegan was right here to give it to him.

Ty jumped a little and gave Keegan a pissy look. Keegan grinned, took a swig from the terrible wine Beau had chosen for them tonight, and belched.

Beau had probably spent a fortune on tonight’s wine. He’d almost certainly consulted with the wine snot at the Wine Gallery down in Chelsea, sandwiched between two pretentious art galleries. The Wine Gallery had a pretty young alpha working there, a vacuous-looking blond from Montana without a penny or brain cell to his name.

Beau spent a lot of time there. He’d been spending most of his time there for about a year and had, in fact become an investor in the shop. Whatever; it wasn’t like Keegan gave a crap what Beau did in his spare time.

At least, Keegan wouldn’t care if the wine wasn’t so awful. If Beau’s side guy was going to work as an official Wine Snot, he should at least learn a few tidbits about wine first.

“Try to listen, Tyler,” Beau snapped, and straightened his napkin so it was perfectly aligned with the edge of the table. “St. James will pick you up at seven tomorrow night —”

Keegan slurped from his wine again. St. James? Whatever happened to Pierrick?

“No, he won’t. I have a working dinner with the partner in charge of the Bodnar vs. Hummel case.” Ty poked at his food, shuddered, and put his fork down.

Picking up his wine, he shuddered again and took a giant gulp. He must have been trying to swallow it down without tasting it. Keegan could relate.

“Don’t interrupt, Tyler. St. James is a busy and important man. He works for one of the most important investment banks in the country. If he’s willing to make time to take you to dinner, you will make yourself available to him.”

Beau pointed at Ty with a crooked finger. He pursed his lips, drawing the wrinkles around his mouth in closer like a drawstring. It was obviously time to re-up on the Botox.

Keegan stepped in. Someone had to help Ty out. He snorted and speared a piece of roast … whatever it was; he couldn’t quite identify the meat.

“St. James? Really? You don’t think that’s just a little bit pretentious? I’m sure every parent thinks their kid is a saint, but canonizing him at birth just seems like a little much.

“Do they call him Jimmy? St. Jimmy? Jimbo? Besides, Ty already told you he’s got a work thing.” He put the meat down and toyed with his glass.

“It’s not like he’ll be keeping the job when he and St. James get married,” Ed, Keegan and Ty’s alpha father, rumbled from the head of the table. He waved a hand, like having a son who’d graduated top of his class from an Ivy League law school was a mosquito to be batted away. In his head, it probably was.

“Come on, Keegan. It’s not like you’d let your omega keep a job, if you were ever to get married. It’s unheard of. Not that you would ever take that kind of responsibility onto yourself.”

Ed looked down his beak-like nose at Keegan. It was probably meant to be an intimidating expression, but to Keegan it just made him look like a bird. Come to think of it, there was an awfully strong resemblance between Ed and birds. They both flew in, crapped all over things, and flew out again.

“You wouldn’t want him to, anyway. He obviously got every defective gene in both of our families.” Beau darted a vicious glare at Keegan. Beau had never approved of Keegan’s lifestyle, which was all the more reason to live it.

“Anyway, Tyler, St. James likes omegas in soft colors, so you’ll wear a nice pastel purple. I picked out the perfect shirt —”

“I hope you kept the receipts,” Ty interrupted, “because not only do I look terrible in pastels, but I don’t give a flying fuck what St. James likes ‘his’ omegas to wear.

“I have a job. My job has a dress code. We like to put opponents in mind of executioners. A ‘nice pastel purple’ doesn’t make opposing counsel think about the guillotine, does it?” Ty took a swig of his wine.

Keegan did a double take. Had Ty had too much wine? No, his eyes were clear. He’d just run out of patience with their parents and their harassment about his love life.

This could be good. Keegan settled in.

Ed scowled at Ty. “Omegas shouldn’t talk about violence. It’s unbecoming. This is why I opposed you going to law school at all. It’s just about ruined you.”

“Good thing you didn’t pay for it.” Ty built a little tower out of his dinner as he spoke, using his knife and fork to move slabs of overcooked ham and asparagus around the plate. It was probably a better use for the meal than eating it would have been.

“That way you didn’t waste any money, and everyone’s happy. Seeing as how I’m not going to marry your saintly friend, and I’m not going to meet him, and whatever Beau bought for me to wear is just going to be a cat bed, it’s good to find pleasure where you can.”

Keegan smirked and tuned them out. He had plenty of confidence in Ty’s ability to resist Beau’s importuning — for today, anyway. Nothing got between Ty and his career, for better or worse.

Their parents had tripped the one switch that would set Ty off. Keegan had had some worries once, but at the end of the day, Ty was going to do what Ty was going to do, and other people could take it or leave it. Keegan loved that about his brother.

He concentrated on cutting his asparagus into tiny pieces. When he’d finished, his parents were lecturing Ty about getting married while he still “had worthwhile traits to offer.” Christ, how had these people managed to raise two guys like Ty and Keegan?

The answer to that was simple enough: boarding school. It wasn’t a path he recommended for everyone, or even most people, but Keegan would be willing to bet it had saved his and Ty’s lives. He wouldn’t want to see where they’d have ended up without it.

He carefully launched one of his miniature projectiles at Ty’s ham and asparagus building, using his coffee spoon as a catapult. It was Beau’s own fault, really. Who set out a full, formal dinner service for a meal with their own children?

Neither Beau nor Ed noticed. They were too busy hectoring Ty about a biological clock and the uselessness of omegas in the labor force.

Ty launched the same piece of asparagus back at Keegan. It landed in the gap between his light-up tie and his massive Texas belt buckle. Keegan blamed himself. He’d presented his brother with two perfect targets, and Ty never missed a setup.

When Keegan’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, he made a show of pulling it out and looking at it. Sure, it was rude. So were his parents. Under other circumstances, he’d probably behave better. His parents still didn’t notice, so his ostentatious display was moot anyway.

The text came from Pete, which put a massive smile on Keegan’s face. He hadn’t known Pete long, but he couldn’t get the man out of his head.

Was it love? That seemed a little unrealistic, considering the time frame. Could Keegan let it become love? He didn’t see why not. He was willing to give it a shot.

We need to talk. Soon. Can I come over?

Keegan frowned and looked around his parents’ dark, Victorian dining room. There was no place he wanted to expose Pete to less than this, no people he wanted to expose Pete to less than his parents. Hell, he hadn’t even told Ty he was seeing someone.

I’m @ my parents’ place right now. Give me time to get home.

I don’t want to interrupt anything.

Gives me an excuse. Their wine sucks.

Keegan stood up, interrupting Beau in the middle of a speech about carrying on the family honor. Christ, Ed was a slumlord, and Beau thought Jefferson Davis had surrendered too early. The family had no honor.

“Well, I gots to go. Places to go, eyes to wreck, you know how it is.” He stretched his back and looked over at his brother. “Ty, want to share a Lyft?”

“Oh, hell yes.” Ty jumped up so fast he almost knocked his wine glass over. That would have been a pity. The dining table was an antique, and it would have been a shame to watch the swill corrode it.

“Got to go, see you, bye.” He ran for the door before Keegan could even call for the ride.

“This isn’t over, Tyler!” Beau called, chasing after him. “You’d better be ready and waiting at your front door when St. James shows up for you!” Good God, were they still on that?

“Quit beating a dead horse, Beau.” Keegan opened the Lyft app and called for a ride. “He’s not going to be there, and you know it. Just let it go. He’s not interested.”

His good deed for the day done, if unheeded, he headed out after Ty.

The Lyft dropped Ty off first, and then Keegan. Keegan couldn’t say he minded. He wanted to talk to Ty about this St. James guy, but his brother wouldn’t have obliged him.

Besides, if Pete was sending “we need to talk” texts, Keegan needed to focus on his own mess right now. Ty was a grown man. He could fend off the advances of a man he didn’t want.

Not that Keegan had been aware of any mess to begin with. “We need to talk” was sometimes the first indication many men had that some aspect of their lives was about to go hideously, spectacularly south. Keegan had experienced it for himself, and he’d watched it happen to plenty of other guys at the Hellion Club. It paid to be prepared, he guessed, emotionally and mentally.

He couldn’t think of what he could have done to make Pete send a “We need to talk” text, but that didn’t mean much. He wouldn’t have necessarily seen his own error, and it also might have nothing to do with Keegan.

Maybe some relative had died, and Pete needed to leave. Maybe he’d gotten a scary diagnosis. Maybe he’d been called away into secret government service, or maybe he was on the verge of being arrested. All Keegan could do was wait to find out.

He hated waiting.

Pete showed up exactly an hour after his original text. The first thing Keegan noticed about his lover were his lips. They were chapped and raw from biting, and that wasn’t like Pete.

Pete was usually the epitome of calm. He didn’t fuss, bite his nails, or gnaw his lips half to death. This news he had to give scared him.

As the alpha, it was Keegan’s job to find out what it was and smash it to bits. He grabbed Pete’s hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked, guiding him over to the bright white couch Pete had picked out.

“Is it that obvious?” Pete threw him a self-deprecating grin. “Sorry. I don’t want to make you worry.”

Keegan rolled his eyes. People always said that, even though it always made their friends, families and partners worry more. “People who care about you are allowed to worry, Pete.”

His cheeks felt hot, and he looked down. “Sorry. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but it’s not like I’ve been trying to hide it or anything.”

He hadn’t, either. He wore his heart on his sleeve. It made life easier, as a general rule. Keegan made a habit of honesty, whenever he could.

Pete blinked a few times. Keegan looked into Pete’s eyes, and when he saw the reflected shine of the light there, he realized the omega was blinking back tears. A knot of fear grew in Keegan’s stomach.

Pete squeezed Keegan’s hand and took a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this. I’m pregnant.”

The world stopped. Everything in the apartment fell silent. The refrigerator’s hum disappeared. The elevator machinery died away. Even the noise from the city street faded into oblivion.

“Are you sure?” Keegan’s own voice sounded like it came from far away.

“Pretty sure.” Pete sniffed and dabbed at his eyes.

“Um.” Keegan tried to catch his breath. He knew the baby was his. He didn’t need to ask. He had a whole host of questions, and the room was spinning worse than that time he’d tried his cousin’s moonshine on a visit to Georgia in middle school. His first priority had to be Pete, though.

He tried to steady himself and gave Pete’s hand a little squeeze. “First of all, whatever you want to do, it’s your choice. I’m not going to try to pressure you or anything, either way. But, um.”

He swallowed hard. “I think you’d be a great dad, and you could only make beautiful babies, because you’re the kind of beautiful that only happens in statues or fine art. I have to say my genes are not the best, and I’m a little bit scared right now.”

He bit down on his tongue to shut himself up. “I’m babbling. I’m sorry. ”

In spite of his obvious nerves, Pete laughed. He put a hand on Keegan’s arm. “It’s okay, Keegan. I’m scared too. But we’ll figure it out.” Then he sobered. “There’s just one other issue. A, um. A minor one.”

Keegan blinked at him. “My family’s shit and you don’t want anything to do with them? Because that’s perfectly reasonable.”

Pete tilted his head to the side. “Um, no? I hadn’t gotten that far? But, well, um. Pete DeAngelis isn’t the name I was born with.”

Keegan stared at his lover. He couldn’t make Pete’s words penetrate his brain. “It’s not? How does that work, then?”

Pete looked away, but he didn’t let go of Keegan. “I’m in witness protection. I don’t have a ton of control over what happens from here on out. The guy — the people — I testified against could show up at any time. If there’s the slightest chance that they could find me, I’m going to have to go. And even I won’t know where I’m going.”

The room started spinning again, this time in the other direction. “I have no idea what to do with that.” Keegan clung to Pete until he found his equilibrium again. “Can we just … I mean, can I still call you Pete?”

Pete huffed out a humorless little chuckle. “Yeah. I’ve gotten used to it.”

Keegan could breathe again. That much, at least, was constant. As long as he knew one of the cards, he could work with the rest. “So. I’m guessing we have time to figure the rest of it out.”

Pete did a little double take. “There’s not a lot of ‘rest of it’ to figure out, Keegan. Everything is chosen for me. My living situation, my job, everything. It’s all done with a view to keeping me safe, which I appreciate, but any kind of family life is out of the question.”

Keegan sat up straighter. “My friend, you’ve never seen a Cunningham in action before. Again, I’m going to defer to you. You’re the one in actual danger here, so you’re in the driver’s seat.

“But what you need to know about me, Pete, is that I’m a big believer in choice. And until you tell me to stop, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you have every choice available to you. Including a few the Feds, or whoever, might not have come up with.”

For a second, Pete looked at Keegan like he’d hung the moon and the stars. Then he shook his head. “Keegan, this is all they do — keeping people like me safe. What can you possibly think of that they haven’t?”

Keegan wiggled his eyebrows up and down. He hadn’t had time to look at his options, catalogue his resources, or think of any alternatives yet, but he’d come up with a solution. His family was on the line now. “We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”