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“Holy crap,” he reiterates, shaking his head. “I seriously can’t—I mean, wow.” His stare keeps raking down to Emma’s bulge. “I—I was freaking out in there, thinking my instincts were all wrong. But my gut kept firing, right and left. The whole time, you two felt so familiar to me—”

“Familiar?” Emma cuts in a split second before I can. “Familiar how?”

Cal waves a hand. “Don’t worry. I think I’m the only one who noticed. Those Bolt-inis were doing their thing on everyone long before you walked in. Both RRO teams are staying at the Lido House hotel so they’re ridesharing back, but Juliet lives in NoHo, and I wanted to stay clear to drive her home. Besides, there’s—” He openly gapes at Emma’s belly. “I mean, how the hell…”

“Same thing we said.” Emma attempts a smile, though it’s clear the stress is still clawing at her.

“Your wedding was just over three months ago.”

“Same thing we said.” I’m the one to restate it while wrapping a protective arm around my wife.

Cal nods again, indicating his commiseration. “So,” he murmurs, still clearly awestricken. “A super baby for the Richards.” He ticks a glance back toward the Makras’ house. “But with super enemies who’d like nothing better than to know that, yeah?”

I clutch his shoulder with my free hand. “Which means we’re now trusting you with some super-level secrecy.” I don’t diminish the force beneath the fingers I keep coiling, ensuring he’ll feel their heat even through his thick wool jacket. All right, now I’m taking the biggest risk of my night. Of my year. There’s no way of discerning how much time he’s actually spent with Juliet before tonight, meaning Faline might have already gotten her paws on his psyche already. “We can do that, can’t we, Cal?” I press. “Because you can probably tell what’s at stake if we can’t.”

Despite the permanent burns I’m searing into his coat, Calvin straightens his shoulders with the pride they’ve always possessed. “I’m a father, man.” In all the important ways, he speaks the truth. The only thing he hasn’t done for his sisters was give them life in the first place. “And thanks to you and RRO, I’m a damn good one.”

He sweeps a hand across his torso before smacking it atop mine with fraternal-style affirmation. For a second, I actually envision Tyce or Chase making the same move and realize how intensely I miss them both. There’s nothing to be done about the ache for Tyce, but I promise myself that Chase is going to get a phone call and a visit as soon as I’m not evading the world’s most persistent mutant bitch.

“As a matter of fact, I wish I could do more for you guys than just keep secrets.” Cal’s comment, issued with sincerity I can practically touch, snaps me fully back to the moment. Not that I was really gone, with my wife still glowing like a Christmas tree topper along Ocean Boulevard. Thank God the weather is more East Coast gloomy than West Coast balmy tonight, resulting in sparse traffic along the road.

“Maybe there is,” I reply, moving back in next to Emma. She’s moving noticeably slower, every step now an unsteady wobble, but I don’t dare go for the stupidity of fully picking her up. When my bunny’s in her let-me-do-it-myself mode, all I can do is stand by and hope to help.

“Shield her from the right side,” I instruct Cal. “If we’re noticed, maybe it’ll just look like we’re walking with a flashlight.”

“Yeah.” Calvin repositions himself, flanking Emma to the right while I wrap an arm around her from the left. “Good idea.”

“I have better ones,” I grumble. “But Miss Tenacity wouldn’t be fond of them.”

“Where do you think I learned it from, Mister Tenacity?” But the second she’s finished with the retort, she comes to a full stop. She groans and grabs my arm with the strength of twenty men.

“Velvet?” I lean over, all the way in her face, inside two seconds. “What is it, baby? Talk to me, damn it.”

“Shut…up.” She spits it back between wheezing breaths. The ferocious breaths keep racking her form as I fling a look to Calvin across her heaving back. The tightness across his burnished features confirms I’ve communicated clearly enough. While Emma’s obstinance is typical behavior, this stall-out isn’t.

“Okay,” Emma finally rasps out. “Forward. But slowly.”

While we start to shuffle again, I stay hunched over. “All right, can you talk to me now?” I prompt. “Please, baby?”

She rolls her head hard enough that I infer the negative answer on that. But a few steps later, she utters, “Just…get me…to the car.”

“The car.” I refrain—barely—from pitching it into a question. Not that the restraint does me any good. “Where the hell do you think we’re going in the—”

“Home.”

Her dictate makes me halt this time. Her inflection already implies the full meaning of her word, but I still try to explain, “We are home, Bunny. Well, nearly. You’ve got only half a block—”

“No.” Emma tears so deeply into my forearm, I’m certain she’ll hit bone and tendons. That doesn’t seize my attention as much as the stark pain denting her features. “You know what I mean. I want to go home, Reece. To our home.”

I gulp hard. And force myself to say it. “To the ridge.”

“To the ridge.” She gives it with the certainty of finality while continuing her hobble down the sidewalk. But she only gets two steps, because I still can’t move. I’m assaulted by memories as clear as they are vicious. Standing in the command center at the ridge—until I had to sit, as Dad’s voice filled my ear. They’ve narrowed down the search. They’re going to find you, Reece…

“No.” I spew it violently enough to shatter the vision, though my payback is watching deeper pain cut into my wife’s brow. “Velvet, you’re not thinking clearly,” I dictate. “I know that all that bullshit with Juliet was stressful—”

“No.” She stops, wincing harder. “All that bullshit was a wakeup call.”

I draw in a harsh breath. “But that doesn’t mean anyone’s got to pick up the line right away, okay?”