Page 71 of Angel's Smoke

“Before we discuss things further, do you think Mr. O’Neil would be open to mediation?”

“I think he would be open to whatever earns him the most money.”

God, she was tired, as evidenced by her snarky insistence showing up to play in lieu of her common sense. In every possible way a pregnant woman could be tired, Anna was tired. Mentally, her mind was a fog of client appointments, missed grocery orders, and painful memories of Iron that refused to release their grip. Physically, the baby had pretty much taken over any vital functions and was now running the show. That meant extreme exhaustion at random hours of the day—usually during client calls—and a frustrating discomfort doing everything else, from fitting in a car’s passenger seat to standing up from the toilet.

It was taking everything in her not to pick herself up out of that chair, find a horizontal surface, and hope that sleep would finally steal her away from reality and deliver her back into the dream world where there was only her and Iron.

Anna handed over her file and let the attorney peruse the prospects of what amounted to a meager defense against Travis once he no doubt armed himself with whatever heavy legal ammunition California could provide.

And the bitch didn’t even put her definitely optional glasses back on to do it.

Anna was going through the motions,mm-hmmingand nodding where appropriate as Ms. Wahl tapped out the stake of Anna’s future into her computer, when the room fell silent.

“Is this the same Travis O’Neil you’ve cited in your complaint?” Ms. Wahl swung her computer screen around to show Anna, and the floor nearly fell away from the room.

A formal portrait of Travis’s smug face accompanied no fewer than a dozen media articles all with titles featuringpodcast host,MLM company, andconsumer fraudin various arrangements.

“What the hell?” Anna scooted as close as her belly would allow to make sense of the words staring back at her. While Anna read on, Ms. Wahl quietly closed the notes and slid Anna’s files back across the desk.

“It seems the umbrella company under which he’s been operating his podcast and other business ventures has been charged with running an illegal pyramid scheme. It says here that, ‘Travis O’Neil, host ofBros, Babies, and Nixing Those Maybes,a podcast designed to help expectant families and those with young children optimize all of the must-dos to cut out all those might-dos and simplify the early baby years, is one of several people being indicted for consumer fraud. O’Neil, along with many others named in the lawsuit, is accused of recruiting people to sell courses and lectures aimed at helping young families. However, those recruited by O’Neil have claimed in the filing that they were made to buy egregious quantities of course materials at regular intervals, regardless of how many they sold, with the promise of receiving bonuses or certain compensation once they’d reached eligibility. At the time of this filing, claimants have yet to receive any payment, with some having gone into severe debt in order to meet the distribution requirements for payout.’”

“Holy shit.” Anna’s mind was reeling, just straight up spinning like a toy top with no guardrails. Had that asshole really done all that?

“Ms. Malone, I think it’s fair to say that, given the current charges against him, any lawsuit he might bring forth wouldn’t hold much water with a judge.” Then she stood and held out her hand. Anna accepted it gladly. “But do call if things change and he gets in touch with you, though I can’t imagine that happening.” She wrinkled her nose. “An MLM? Really? I thought all those went out of style when we turned over a new century. Guess I was wrong. Anyway, good luck.”

On lighter feet, Anna walked out of the law office, not knowing what to do or where to go. Technically, she’d won, but without any of the logic or actual defenses usually employed in such legal battles.

She kept waiting for the joy to hit her, but all that kept swimming to the surface was the lingering malaise of her circumstances.

Nothing had changed. Anna was right back where she started. Alone. Lost. And now even more confused.

“Anna.”

A voice she thought she’d never hear again pulled her thoughts from their murky depths. A pickup truck she hadn’t seen in over a month sat in the parking lot. Iron stood in front of it, his bicolored eyes gleaming and his body braced against the vehicle in all its proud strength, like the monolith of her memories that could never be torn down.

He was here. In front of her. Alive.

Iron.

Not caring whether or not he was real, she ran to him as fast as her ballet flats would carry her. Like no time had passed at all, he swept her into his arms, confirming her hope.It’s really him.

Gangly limbs, nonaerodynamic belly, ugly tears. Whatever she had, he held in an embrace that infused strength into a body that hadn’t known how to hold its own since he’d taken himself away from her.

“How are you back? What? Why?” Anna’s sniffles were less than ladylike, but they were met in kind by the sweet murmurings he whispered into her ear. Each word took on a twinge of desperation and longing, pulling out the most unattractive sigh from her ragged lungs.

“My Anna. My love. Mages, I never thought I’d see you again.” The confession was deliciously gruff and grizzly as he cupped the back of her head and carried her, dangling feet and all, over to the passenger side of his truck where there was less risk of an audience.

“You need to start talking because I am having a freaking day, and the last thing I need is to be sent into early labor when I’ve still got four months to go.” Tears stung her eyes as she looked upon a face she feared would only ever live in her memories. “Is this real? Are you really back?”

He smiled and kissed her softly. Every frazzled nerve that had been going haywire since the moment she’d seen him finally sank in relief.

Once he’d tucked her securely into the passenger seat of his truck—with the seat blessedly already pushed all the way back—he knelt before her in the open doorway and anchored his palms against her thighs, as if he needed just as much support from her as she did from him. “It’s done. It’s all done. Cyro’s gone. I killed him, and the moment I did, the rest of the charmers followed suit.” Then a lightness she’d never seen before brightened his beautiful brown and hazel eyes. “I opened the gates.”

Anna stilled, knowing full well what that meant. Iron and the other sentinels could finally go home.

“Stop,” he said forcefully, squeezing her thighs again. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

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