Page 68 of Wild Night

With the court being adjourned for the day, I don’t go straight home the way I want to. Instead, I have to go to the office and do a little paperwork in preparation for tomorrow’s court session—much to my dismay.

When I walk into the office, I’m not surprised to see that my partner is gone for the day, as is Cidney. It’s empty, dark, and quiet, which I prefer when I need to focus. Moving through the dark building, I unlock my office door and slip inside, closing it behind me before I flip on the light.

I know instantly that something is off the moment the lights illuminate the space. I shift my gaze around the room, but can’t put my finger on it, yet something is definitely wrong, or off. Either way, I know it is not right.

I can’t put my finger on it, though. Everything appears to be exactly where I left it. Walking over to my computer, I sit down and power it on. I could look it up on my phone, and I should have received an alert if something were breached, but looking at it on the bigger screen will be better anyway.

Once I’m logged into the system, I check the footage. I don’t see anything. John leaves for the day, and then Cidney leaves for the day. I watch as she locks the door before walking away. My office and John’s have no motion that causes the cameras to go off until I show up.

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes for a moment as I try to figure out what the fuck is going on here. There is definitely something. I don’t know what, but something is clearly off. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, pinching my eyes closed as I try to think. Everything is in its place, but something or someone has been in here and done something.

Opening my eyes, I look around again. I should be doing my paperwork so I can go home to my woman, but this is going to bother me until I figure it out. My eyes scan everything in the room, from books to the desktop, and it all seems as if it’s exactly where I left it.

But then something causes me to pause. It’s the magazine on the table next to the chair across from my desk. I don’t even know why I have the little table there. I mean, I’ve put a coaster on there so clients can set their drinks down, but really, it’s not used often.

Standing, I walk around my desk and make my way toward the magazine. I didn’t put this here. This table has only ever had a coaster, nothing else. Why would I want a client to flip through a magazine during a meeting?

Reaching for the magazine, I pick it up, then flip it over to check the address on the back. It’s been cut out. It’s not ours. The few we have in the waiting room come straight to this office, and we don’t cut the address labels out.

Flipping through it, I look for any kind of evidence of where it may have come from. Nothing. There is absolutely nothing to distinguish where this came from or how the fuck it got here. Flicking my gaze to the floor, I look at the base of the small table. Nothing. Then I tilt my head to the side as I take in the coaster. It’s been moved to the point where I can tell from the dust print.

I don’t know when it happened, but my office doesn’t get cleaned as often as it should. I don’t allow the cleaning staff in here without me. I know it sounds as if I’m paranoid, but I don’tfuck around with sensitive information, and my whole fucking office is sensitive.

Reaching for the coaster, I pick it up. There is a folded slip of paper beneath it. What the actual fuck is happening here? I have more than just that question. I have a dozen of them swirling around inside my head.

But since there’s a note and nobody around to ask said questions, I don’t talk to myself, and I reach for the note. I pick it up and unfold it slowly. I’m not sure what I expect to happen when I open it. It’s not going to magically do anything, like fly around the room, so I’m unsure as to why I hesitate, but here I am… hesitating.

Written in messy print is a single sentence. One that sends a chill down my spine, because not only what the fuck, but how the fuck?

YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG PERSON. BE READY TO BE FUCKED BACK.

I’m not someone who is scared, generally speaking. I’m part of an MC. I’m an attorney, I’m typically the one doing the scaring, but this is eerie, to say the least. Not just the note itself. That’s one thing. It’s the fact that it’s here, placed in a secure room, in a secure building, without being noticed, seen, or detected in any way. That is what’s causing me to pause.

As much as I want to brush it under the rug, I’ve been part of the Vicious Reapers for far too long to just ignore things like this that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. So I call Bullet. He’s my president, but he’s been my friend my entire life.

“Ivy?” he calls out.

“Can you come down to my office?”

Without asking a single question, he says four words before he ends the call.

“Be there in five.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

POSEY

As I holdNathan in my arms, my gaze on his little, chubby-cheeked baby face, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace and yearning. Next year, around this time, I’ll be holding my own little chubby-cheeked bundle. I can’t believe that my life has turned into this. I’m not sure if I should even blink out of fear that this could possibly be a dream.

“Okay,” Dakota abruptly announces.

I look over at her. She’s smiling, her eyes sparkling as they search mine. I almost ask her if everything is okay, but she starts to speak, so I don’t say anything. At least not immediately.

“Let’s go to Lainey’s. I’m not back to work until next week, but I think we need to celebrate not only your return, but your pregnancy, and the fact that you and Ivy are living together now.”

She says the words, but the last five are in what feels like slow motion. Living together. Living. Together. Now. Oh my god, we are, aren’t we? I mean, I’m back here in North Carolina, my bagis in his house, but I have nowhere else to go and no real money to get my own place, either.

Well, I could probably afford to float myself for a while since Monty made sure to pad my bank account after the Lucian debacle, but still, I have no job here, so even if I could afford somewhere, I’m not a candidate to rent anything until I find some kind of employment.

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