But she could do this. She could handle this. She’d handled worse. For far longer.
And there was a good side to the visions, where Mitch survived and moved on to happiness. She just needed to continue to make the right decisions. Keep him making the right decisions. All without knowing exactly what those decisions were. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out cause and effect, especially when it came to men like Schaeffer. At least not for Halina.
“What a mess.” She took a deep breath before finger-combing her hair back into a bun.
When she opened the door, she found Mitch standing at the only window, feet spread, arms crossed. He turned as soon as he heard the door, holding his cell. He’d put his shirt back on—definitely a plus—and his face registered the same resignation that had taken over Halina.
She glanced through the room for the first time, a king suite—one bed, fireplace, sofa, big-screen TV, mini-fridge. Pushing away the urge to lie down next to Dex, whose dazed golden eyes stared at her now, she crossed to the fridge and peeked inside. A sigh of relief drifted through her lips when she found it stocked. She grabbed a can of Coke and sat on the edge of the bed next to Dex, one leg curled under her.
She swept a hand over his thick fur and leaned down to look into his glassy eyes. Gratitude swamped her. “Hey baby.”
The tip of his fuzzy tail wagged and his tongue slipped out to lick her nose. The love that sprang into her heart soothed a lot of the pain. Not all. Nothing could soothe it all. But it was a start.
With the side of her face pressed to Dex’s shoulder, Halina met Mitch’s eyes. “Thank you for saving him. I don’t know what I would have done . . .”
Her voice choked off, but Mitch nodded in understanding.
She sat up, popped the top on the Coke, and decided to just rip off the Band-Aid. “Let’s get this over with so we can go our own ways. What do you want to know?”
She took a long drink of the soda. Her mouth burst with flavored carbonation, and she swore she could feel the sugar passing directly into her veins. She drained half the can and let out a sigh. Then realized he hadn’t asked her anything and met his gaze with one lowered brow.
“Halina”—his slow, smooth voice washed over her, making her chest ache—“we aren’t going our own ways until we know if you’re pregnant or not.”
Dread slid around her shoulders like a blanket. She closed her eyes. “That could take a month.”
“No,” he said, calmly. “Seven days or sooner with a blood test. Ten days with a urine test.”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. His expression was tense, his eyes edged with impatience.
“Tell me you just looked that up on the Internet,” she said, “because otherwise, I don’t want to know how you know—”
“Alyssa.” He tipped his head and sighed his sister’s name. “You hang around with a doctor long enough, handle enough paternity suits for military guys who didn’t father a kid by FedEx from Afghanistan, and you figure these things out.”
“Well, I don’t have a sister who’s a doctor or handle paternity cases.”
A grin turned his mouth, his eyes on that high-powered twinkle setting. “You’re a doctor, Hali. And a woman.”
“I’m a scientist, not a medical doctor. And neither makes me an expert on pregnancy-testing time limits.” She pressed the Coke can to her forehead and rolled it side to side. “Can we change the subject before I hyperventilate?”
His smile faded, but his voice remained soft when he said, “Hali, I’m serious about taking the baby if you—”
“It’s . . . not”—she laughed so she wouldn’t cry—“a . . . baby . . . yet. Please, Mitch . . . Unless you want to be stuck with a psychotic melting pot of emotion, that’s something I can’t discuss until there is something to discuss.”
He bit the inside of his cheek and looked at the wall. If he insinuated she didn’t want their baby one more time . . .
Dammit, now he had her doing it. There is no baby. Yet.
His cell rang and he murmured, “This will only take a minute. Yes,” he said into the cell, formal, clear. A business call. Probably someone overseas, considering the hour. “That’s correct. No, just two of us.”
Concern perked Halina’s ears.
“I understand,” Mitch said. “That’s not a problem. I appreciate the last-minute accommodation. I’m not sure on that. Can I let you know tomorrow when we board?”
Halina’s concern escalated to alarm.
“Great.” Mitch picked up a pencil nearby and jotted notes. “Yes, ma’am, I’ve got it. Eight a.m. sharp. Thank you.”
As soon as he disconnected, she asked, “Who and what was that?”
The set of his expression made her hands clench. Resolute, dominant, yet reconciled with the fact that he was about to catch some shit. Yes, she could read it all in one look. Seven years later.
“Our flight reservation—”
“Mitch, we can’t fly—”
“Is on a private jet.”
That killed her argument. “Well . . .” She crossed her arms tight to ease the sudden tingle across her shoulders. “You have made your mark, haven’t you?”
“Honey, you live in a million-dollar house on a lake in the most sought-after neighborhood of Seattle, drive a brand-new fifty-thousand-dollar sports car with another one in storage, and you’ve got another twenty grand in guns and a cool hundred grand in cash. You don’t have a lick of credit to your name-s.” He emphasized the s as a z and dragged it out. “Don’t even get me started on your finances.”
Her mouth hung open. Anger coiled and coiled with no exit. “How—? What—? You—?”
“Yes, Halina,” he answered her unspoken question, hands on hips. “I have a tendency to snoop in my spare time and I found it all in your storage unit. Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of opportunity to explain all of that to me later.”
“Explain my ass. I earned my money the same way you earned yours. I don’t have to explain shit to you.”
“Your finances don’t add up. Not at a salary of a hundred grand a year.”
“That is none of your damn business.”
“It sure as hell is if you took a payoff from Schaeffer before you ran.”
She pulled in a breath, mouth open in shock. Fury and indignation flushed her skin hot. Pushed her lungs against her ribs.
“You bastard,” her voice scraped out of her throat, harsh with rage. “You get livid over me judging you, then throw that shit at me?” She pointed a rigid finger at his chest. “You’d better not say that again unless you’ve got proof of it, which I know you don’t. Nor will you ever.”
His mouth twisted in frustration, but he didn’t argue. He leaned his ass against the arm of a chair and braced his hands alongside his hips. The muscles of his shoulders, chest, and biceps bunched, stretching his shirt and teasing Halina’s gaze.
“You should get some sleep. We’re flying out early to meet the team—”
“What?” In the speed of a finger snap, all her tension returned. “Wait. No. What?”
The lack of sleep was catching up with her.
Mitch relaxed his arms and straightened his spine. “That’s what the jet is for, so we don’t have to drive another twelve hours to reach them.”
Them. All those people who’d suffered because of Halina. “Where?”