“I just wanted to let you know that everything is normal and I didn’t find any trace of those drugs or anything odd in your blood. Well, Donald didn’t find anything. He did the actual tests.” The doctor sneezed several times.

“Bless you,” Dana said.

“Thanks.” The sound of papers shuffling came over the line. “I’ll need to test Wolfe’s blood, just to make sure, when he’s available. Have him call me.”

Dana took a sip of her water. “I will. Hopefully soon.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “There is one more thing. I’d rather tell you this in person, but Donald and I are going on holiday tomorrow, so over the phone will have to do.”

Dana stopped breathing.

“Dana? We found a significant amount of hCG in your blood.”

Dana’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She tried again, clearing her throat. “I, ah, you, um, is it possible to have hCG and not be pregnant?”

“Probably not, hon.” He was quiet, letting her digest the news. “We can talk about options, if you like.”

“No. Thanks.” Her body went numb, and she stared at Roscoe, who’d turned from his food to watch her. “I appreciate your calling.” She didn’t hear much of what else the doctor said before she hung up. Something about prenatal vitamins and rest.

She’d had a feeling. Oh, she’d shoved it down with logic and statistics and distractions, but deep down, she’d had an odd feeling about that night with Wolfe that she couldn’t explain.

Roscoe, sensing her emotions, lumbered across the kitchen and set his jaw on her knee.

Thoughts and feelings bombarded her. A baby. Wolfe’s baby. They’d just started dating and a psychotic killer was hunting them. They’d been drugged and not in their right minds when having unprotected sex. A little girl with Wolfe’s startling bourbon-colored eyes and her gift for writing. Or a little boy with Wolfe’s face and her eyes.

Wolfe had mentioned maybe dating her when this was all over. He’d never talked about a future. It was way early in the pregnancy, and most things went wrong in the first trimester. She hadn’t even missed a period yet. Most folks didn’t announce until after three months just in case something went wrong. Would Wolfe want a baby? She wasn’t ready, but she was pregnant, so she’d have to get ready.

It was impossible to grab on to just one thought.

Except that Wolfe was somewhere in a remote part of a different country surrounded by killers with guns while trying to bomb a building full of heroin. There with only one man for backup, an unclear plan for extraction, and an uncertainty about even the correct location of the drugs.