Grinning, Gavin lifted a skeptical brow. Your stomachs perfect, so add that less than statement to the list of things I never want to hear again. And youre giving me the Yankees?

Id give you the world if I could.

Little did she know, she already had. Gavin guided her to his lips, kissing her deeply as he slid his hands along the glorious curve of her waist. With his thumbs stroking her beautifully perfect stomach, Gavin envisioned that tiny Yankees fan. His heart dipped, bringing with it a feeling so thirsty for this to be his child, he was sure he would drown in it.

Emily slowly pulled away, her lips flushed from their kiss. With soft eyes, she tilted her head, her voice a whisper. Three: Yes, I think we need to call him, Gavin. Now that he knows, itll only further complicate things if we dont. Im not sure if Im prepared for whatever crazy demands he might conjure up, but I promise I wont bitch about them.

After a moments hesitation, Gavin nodded. With a knot blistering hot in his gut, he reached for the phone.

Repositioning on Gavins lap, Emily swallowed nervously as she watched him hit the speaker button, followed by Dillons number. A few rings later, there it was, the voice Emily didnt think shed ever have to hear again.

Ah. I figured Id get a phone call today, he said, his arrogance echoing through the office as if he was standing there. So I heard our little trios expecting? What a tangled web we

What the fuck do you want, asshole? Gavin grit out, wrath wicked in his voice.

Silence blanketed the air, its presence as heavy as an elephant sitting on Emilys chest.

Let me explain something to you, Gavin, Dillon said, his sneer ominously low, cold. The games changed, motherfucker. Youre playing by my rules now. The first rule of the game? You and my beautiful ex are about to get in your fucking car and meet me at Big Daddys Diner on Park Avenue South between Nineteenth and Twentieth. Second rule: You pull anything funny, and Im on the phone with the cops to report an incident from a few months ago. Ill be at the diner in thirty. If youre not there in forty, say peace to your freedom.

The line went dead, the dial tone flat lining, whispering promises of death in Emilys ear.

Breathe

Remember what I told you, Gavin said, his arm wrapped securely around Emilys waist. His towering frame shielded her from the blistering February winds howling through the city streets. You dont talk to him at all. Dont even look at him.

Shivering, Emily nodded, her eyes adjusting to the vibrant red and yellow neon sign in front of the diner. Gavin opened the door, his hold instinctively tightening on Emily as he scanned the retro, 1960s diner. His eyes slipped over an array of pastel vinyl booths and narrowed when he spotted Dillon alone in a back corner booth. Immediately, Gavins body went on alert. His pulse jumped, the blood in his veins speeding through his system. Flashes of what the fuck did to Emily dissected his thoughts as fresh as the day she told him about it.

Two? a young waitress wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the diners logo asked, her perky voice blending with the frenzied atmosphere.

No. Were meeting someone, and hes already seated. Gavin jerked his head in Dillons direction. Thanks.

Beaming, she whisked off, taking a seat at the chromed-out counter.

Gavin slipped his hand in Emilys, leading them toward Dillon. Remember, dont say a word. Let me handle this. He felt the clamminess coating her skin, and he stopped, looking into her nervous eyes. His heart slowed a moment, but with it came a crushing pain. He bent his head and kissed her soft lips. I love you.

Emily swallowed, her nerves pummeling her limbs. I love you, too.

Inwardly cringing and mentally calling Dillon every name in the book, Gavin approached the booth, his eyes pinned on Dillon. Wearing a cocky smirk, the asshole had his back against the wall, his long legs resting on the cushioned seat. Gavin slid into the booth first, making sure he was directly in front of him.

Without looking at either of them, Dillon stared at the front doors. Kickass place, right? His voice was eerily monotone. You cant deny kids eat this shit up. I mean, look at these cartoon logos everywhere. He dropped his feet to the wood floor and swiveled to face Gavin and Emily. All of these cereal boxes are vintage, you know. The foods some of the best in the city. Maybe when the babys old enough, well bring it here for a nice family outing. What do you think, Em?

Emily jumped when Gavins fist thundered down against the table. The silverware and condiments jiggled from the impact. With his elbow digging into the table, and finger pointed at Dillon, she could see the veins in his neck bulging.

You listen to me, motherfucker, Gavin growled, his eyes alight with murderous venom. I dont give a fuck about your rules. Ill gut you open with my fucking teeth if you talk to her again.

Apparently unaffected by Gavins threat, Dillons mouth twitched into a smirk. His eyes never left Emily. Crossing his arms, his words came out unrushed, his tone almost a whisper. Oh no, my friend. Were all going to play by my rules, and Ill tell you why. He brought his gaze from Emily to Gavin, narrowing it like a hungry wolf. I come from a long line of men whove served on the NYPD. Those men are extremely close with our local judges. Maximum sentence for assault in the third degree by means of strangulation is seven years. I can go ahead and push for attempted murder as well. I dont know how many times you fucked my ex while we were together, but considering you have a small chance at being the bastards father, Im pretty fucking sure youd hate spending almost a decade, or possibly longer, of its life upstate. Orange isnt your color.