Page 81 of Wicked Ambition

He glanced at Ski. His teammate was on high alert. Yeah, it wasn’t only Oz’s instincts sounding the alarm klaxon.

With a few hand signals, they were on the same page.

They needed to clear the house. Staying together, they went room by room. They didn’t move to the next until the one they were in was determined to be completely empty.

Ayla would be getting impatient, Oz knew it, but they had to go slowly. If there wasn’t a human threat, there could be booby traps left behind. Rusty better sit on her if she tried to join them in the house.

He was overreacting. Maybe. Better to use extra caution and not need it than to fuck around and find out the hard way. Especially with Ayla nearby.

He pushed his Pollita from his head. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

When he and Ski had the first floor secure, they made their way upstairs. They searched room by room, clearing each before moving to the next.

It sure as fuck looked as if someone had bugged out in a hurry. Why?

A final room at the end of the hall. The door was already ajar. He stood on one side, Ski stood on the other. When Ski nodded, Oz pushed the door open with his hand. No gunfire, no explosions, no nothing.

He craned his head enough to peer inside. Lying on the bed, unmoving, was a blonde woman. There was no mistaking her for anyone else.

Iona Desmond.

Chapter 32

Ayla sat on the bench, eyes glued to the back of the house, waiting for Oz to come out with her sister. She couldn’t sense her, not right now, but she was certain Io was inside.

Rusty paced the area, moving silently. He called it patrolling. They didn’t chat. Ayla didn’t need anyone to tell her they were too close to two different homes to have a conversation. Besides, her guard didn’t seem to want any distractions. He took Oz’s orders to keep her safe seriously.

Nothing was going on at the house and she watched Rusty walk back and forth. It wasn’t hard to guess how he’d gotten his nickname. Although she couldn’t see it now, under the helmet he had dark auburn hair and there was his beard. He had to be in his mid-twenties, but there was an earnestness about him that made him seem younger.

Her gaze drifted back to the house. She was worried about Oz. He didn’t take her seriously about her twin being inside, and because of that, she wasn’t confident he or his friend would use the caution necessary. The kidnapper could be in there with Io.

Breathing became difficult around the lump in her throat and Ayla forced herself to relax. Stressing herself didn’t help her sister or Oz.

Besides, it increased her nausea. She started feeling sick again while they were driving. Luckily Oz hadn’t noticed, or he might have used it as an excuse not to come here. Ayla rested her hand over her stomach and willed it to settle down.

Think about something else.

Her sister. She would need to take Io to a doctor. After being drugged for days with heaven knew what, she should be checked over. Ayla didn’t know if she could trust any of the doctors here. What if they were watching for a blonde woman to come in and contacted the mobsters? She wouldn’t put it past Petrova to have bribed people. It didn’t even need to be the doctor, it could be someone who worked in the office.

Didn’t Green Berets have medics? Ayla remembered seeing or reading something like that. That might be the best way to start. Let one of Oz’s teammates check Io out, and if he deemed it necessary, then she would risk a doctor.

There went two minutes. Still no sign of Oz or Ski. Her stomach roiled, and Ayla swallowed hard.

Why was she concerned about Oz, anyway? He had training, he could take care of himself, and his friend was with him to help if they ran into trouble. Her feelings for him should be dead, killed by the way he manipulated her.

And it was a lie. As much as she didn’t want to still love him, she did.

It must be a character flaw. Loving a man she couldn’t trust was a sure way to heartbreak. Ayla might be forced to co-parent with him, but that didn’t mean she had to be all goo-goo-eyed over the man.

Her stomach spun harder, and she tried to find something else to think about. She couldn’t spot anything to take her mindoff the situation. She was torn between worrying about her sister, worrying about Oz, or mulling over how important trust was to a relationship. All topics that made her feel queasier.

The baby. She could think about him or her.

Ayla had a two-bedroom apartment. It would take some decluttering, but she could move her home office into a corner of her bedroom and set up the second room as a nursery without too much effort. Io would help.

She didn’t want something designer perfect, a showplace for an adult. No, she wanted somewhere the baby would feel cozy, safe, and loved.

Pale green, maybe. Or a light shade of yellow. Cheerful, happy colors. Leaning back, Ayla considered furniture. A white crib and dresser? Definitely, a rocking chair where she could cuddle her son or daughter and nurse them. And when they were older, she could read bedtime stories while they sat on her lap.

---