Page 32 of Ransom for His Secret Son

And Remi was the only person to see it.

Brody braced his hands against the washer, his head dropping forward as the weight of everything pressed down on him. His breath came fast, too shallow. His chest felt tight, like a vise had locked around it.

“Hell,” he muttered, his voice raw. “Hell. Hell.”

His fingers curled into fists. He forced himself to breathe, but it wasn’t working.

“I could have lost him,” he ground out, the words slicing through the tension in the small space.

Remi stepped closer, her voice steady and calm. “But you didn’t.”

Brody squeezed his eyes shut. That didn’t erase the fact that this time the threat had been a taunt, but the next one might be real.

“We’re going to keep him safe, Brody. No matter what. And we’re going to find your other son.”

Something inside him cracked at that, at the certainty in her voice, the way she said we, like she was just as invested in this as he was. Before he could think better of it, before he could remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t, he pulled her into his arms.

The move surprised them both.

She sucked in a breath, stiffening for a split second before she melted against him, her arms sliding around his back.

The warmth steadied him. The scent of her. Something uniquely Remi. It grounded him in a way nothing else could right now.

He felt her heartbeat against his chest, a solid rhythm, syncing with his. But then, just as fast, something shifted. The heat between them. Hell. It wasn’t just comfort.

It was more.

Brody realized it the second his grip tightened on her waist, the second her fingers curled just a little harder into the fabric of his shirt. The attraction he thought he’d buried—thought he’d locked away years ago—flared to life.

Damn it.

He stepped back abruptly, his breath uneven, but for a different reason than concern for his son’s safety. This time, the reaction was all for Remi. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable, but he knew she’d felt it, too.

They stood there in silence, the air thick with something unspoken.

Brody swallowed hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “We should—”

“Yeah,” Remi said before he could think of what to add to that.

Neither of them moved.

Because they both knew whatever had just happened between them wasn’t over. Not even close. Still, this was wrong. Not just the heat itself but the timing. It was way off.

Brody forced a breath into his lungs, trying to steady himself, trying to shove everything he’d just felt back into a place where it couldn’t distract him.

Remi, thankfully, wasn’t about to let him dwell on it.

“Why did someone want you to believe your son might be in danger?” she asked. “Who would want us rushing back here?”

The questions cut through the rest of the fog in his head, yanking his focus back where it needed to be. On the case. On the threat. On the person who was pulling the strings.

Brody exhaled, nodded. “Tarrant. He could have made the call himself and set up the anonymous tip so we’d leave the scene. Give himself a better chance at escaping.”

“Or,” Remi countered, “Langley did this.”

Brody frowned, considering it. “So we wouldn’t be able to keep questioning him.”

Remi made a sound of agreement. “Think about it. Right before the fire alarm went off, he asked if Grace’s baby had anything to do with what’s happening now. That wasn’t a random question, Brody. He knows more than he’s letting on.”