Chapter 22

The sound of the shower was still a gentle hum in the pipes, a soft reminder of what we’d just left. Edward’s scent came next: Edward’s male stink from his intimate places that Adam had been exploring and pure masculinity was all over me, a protective cloak. He was propped on an elbow beside me in the dim bedroom, tracing the line of my jaw with a single, possessive finger. His dark eyes were soft, for him.

My father. My protector. My everything.

The doorbell didn’t just ring. It erupted. A frantic, unforgiving, repeated stab of sound that tore through the peaceful silence. Then the heavy, authoritative pounding began. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Edward was on his feet in an instant, the languid tenderness gone, replaced by the same lethal alertness from the porch. He strode to the window, peering through a slit in the blinds.

“It’s him,” he said, his voice a low growl. “And he’s not alone. There are two other uniforms with him.”

My heart seized. Backup. Carlos had actually done it. He’d brought the law with him, a twisted perversion of his duty.

“Edward...” I whispered, fear icing my veins.

He was already pulling on a pair of sweatpants, his movements efficient and calm. “Get dressed. Now. Jeans. A shirt. Quickly.”

I scrambled off the bed, my hands shaking as I fumbled for clothes on the floor. The pounding intensified. “ADAM! EDWARD! OPEN THIS DOOR! POLICE!”

Carlos’s voice was different. It was the official, hardened bark of a cop making an official call. It was terrifying.

Edward looked at me, his expression granite. “They have no warrant. They have no probable cause. They have nothing but the ravings of a corrupt, humiliated man. We do not open this door. We call my lawyer.”

He reached for his phone on the nightstand, but a new sound cut through the chaos. Not from the front door. From the back of the house. The distinct, shattering crash of glass.

They’re coming in.

Edward’s head snapped toward the bedroom door. “The patio door. They broke the patio door.”