Prologue

Kayden

I stared at the stick and my hands could barely believe my eyes My fingers shook and I dropped the test. It landed in the sink.

“Shit.” I picked it up, and looked at it again.

Two pink lines. Positive. I was pregnant.

I never thought this would happen. I never wanted kids. I did everything I could to make sure I didn't have kids. I was on suppressants, we used condoms. I'd even taken in the morning after pill a time or two.

Still, one of Turner’s swimmers got through. I shouldn't be surprised about that. My alpha was the Alpha to all Alphas. Turner Jeffries. Special Agent Turner Jeffries, FBI.

He was not going to be happy about this. At least I assumed he wouldn't be. But what the hell did I know, he and I were sort of casual. Sure, I lived with him, but that just sort of happened. He didn’t ask me to move in, I just stopped going back to my apartment about six months ago.

Fuck. What were we going to do? How was he going to react?

It might take him a little while to come around. Hell, it was going to take me a while to come around. I was surprised and unprepared for this, but that didn't stop the excitement that coursed through me. I placed a hand over my flat abdomen. My ab muscles rippled beneath my fingertips. Those would be gone soon. But I didn't care. I was going to have a child. Turner's child.

I had a lot of changes to make in my life. Being a Go Go dancer at a nightclub each night wasn't going to cut it. It wouldn't be long before I didn't look so hot in my skimpy uniform. I snorted. The G-string I put on every night for work could hardly be called a uniform.

How long before my ankles swelled so much I couldn't fit them in my boots?

None of that mattered though. I was going to have Turner's child.

I wondered if the kid would be quiet and reserved like his father, or eccentric and loud like me. Would he be an Alpha or an Omega? Would he like to write like me, or be analytical like his Alpha Dad?

Oh my God, what if it’s a girl?

Only time would tell. And we had a little bit of time. It was impossible for me to know how far along I was right now, although I'd only been nauseous for a few days. Turner and I had been together for over a year. I loved him. I'm pretty sure he loved me. We never said anything like that, because, well, Turner never said anything unless he absolutely had to.

The front door clicked open and I panicked. I dropped the stick again.

I picked it up, along with box and instructions and stuck it in my dresser drawer, knowing that Turner wouldn’t go in there. I wanted to go to the doctor before I told him. Then I would know how far along I was and make sure that this wasn't a false positive. I doubted it was though, and I doubted that I'd be able to keep my mouth shut that long anyways.

I snorted again. I'd probably spill the beans over dinner tonight. I never could keep secrets. And Sir always knew when I was keeping secrets.

“Cole? Are you in here?” Turner’s booming, commanding voice reverberated through the room.

“Yeah,” I said.

Turner came into the room. He had his shirt unbuttoned and he was working his pants.

“Oh, we're jumping right into playing, are we?” I asked. I wore my G string from work still, but I had put on my robe Turner had bought me for Christmas last year.

Turner let out a ragged sigh.

I searched his face for clues as to what could be wrong. Was he tired from work or had something gone wrong? He had dark circles under his eyes, but his cheek appeared to be swollen and there was a cut above his right eye.

“Did you get into a fight?” I asked.

“Yeah, it wasn't the best day.”

I rushed to his side, looking at him over. “Are you all right? Have you been hurt?”

He turned and showed me his left bicep. “Got shot. Bullet grazed me.”

“Fuck, Turner,” I said. “You didn't think to call me and let me know?”

He shrugged. “What were you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Be there with you? What happened?” I asked.

He tossed his shirt and pants on to the bed, then sat down. “We got a lead on one of the leaders of a sex trafficking ring in the area. So, we raided the place today.”

I swallowed thickly. It was rare for him to share so much about his day. “I didn't even know you are working on a case like that.”

“You know I can't talk to you about it. I shouldn't even be telling you about it now.”

“So, why are you?” I said.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fuck. I don't know. There were kids there. A lot of them. Just babies.”

My stomach turned and I sat next to him, curled my knees up and wrap my arms around them. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I needed a few cues from him first before I could determine if he wanted comfort or just wanted to talk. I’d learned to read his body language over the past year and most of the time, I got it right.

He shook his head and stared off into space. “So many kids,” he said. “How can anyone have children and let that happen to them?”

I cleared my throat. Alarms going off in my head. “I don't think that's what they intend to happen to them.”

“Still,” he said. “Makes me sick to my stomach. Thank God that will never be an issue for me.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

He barked out a laugh. “I'm never going to have kids.”

“You don't want kids?”

“Hell no,” he said. “Kids are trouble. Not worth the time and money. I think I’d opt to terminate a pregnancy before I’d ever see it through.”

I swallowed a gasp. “You can't really mean that. You just had a bad day. It’s got to be hard---”

“No,” he said. “I mean it. I have half a mind to go to the doctor right now just get snipped. That way I wouldn't have to deal with it. No accidental babies. None of that shit complicating my life.”

“I see,” I said. His mind was made up. There was nothing I was going to do or say to change it. “So, you'd be for terminating an unwanted pregnancy?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “I'd insist on it. I just can't imagine raising a kid, opening yourself up to that kind of heartache and trouble. This world” He shook his head. “It's disgusting. And I can't see myself ever wanting to bring a child into it.”

“That makes sense,” I said, and I pasted on a fake smile. One thing that being a waiter and a dancer does is teach you to put on the best fake smile you possibly can, award winning even. Meryl Strep had nothing on me.

I bounced up. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Looked like you had something on the stove,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I was going to make tacos, because it's Tuesday.”

“Sounds great.” He stood and walked past me, slapping me on the ass. “I'm going to take a shower, all right?”

“Okay. Be careful with that arm. You're probably not supposed to get it wet.”

He looked at it. “I'll be careful.”

I kissed him, got up on my tippy toes, and planted one right on his lips. I knew it would be our last kiss, but he didn't.

When he turned on the shower and hopped in, I sprang into action. I packed a bag and left. I never looked back.