Chapter 8 Gavin #2
I thrust once, twice, then bury myself as far as I can go and let go. The release hits like a punch—hot, endless pulses that spill into her, marking her from the inside. I shudder through it, hips jerking, face buried in her neck as I groan her name like a prayer.
We stay like that for long minutes—sweaty, tangled, hearts hammering against each other. I don’t pull out yet. I can’t. Not when she feels this perfect around me.
I lift my head, brushing damp hair from her face. “I want to keep you,” I say, low and rough. “More than anything.”
She smiles, sleepy and sated, fingers tracing my jaw. “I want that too.”
I kiss her again and finally ease out, both of us hissing at the loss. I grab a warm cloth from the nightstand, clean us up gently, then pull her back into my arms, her head tucked under my chin.
Outside, the wind moves through the pines.
She’s safe. We’re safe.
And right now, that’s all that matters.
Morning comes muted and gray, snow still falling.
Kayley is asleep when I get up again, her face soft, hair a mess, lips parted slightly. The sight hits me right in the sternum.
I don’t wake her.
I make coffee quietly, check the perimeter feed, then step outside into the cold for a secure call.
Silas answers on the second ring.
“You awake?” I ask.
“Been awake.” His voice is gravel. “Got something.”
My spine tightens. “Talk.”
“Hanover Falls,” Silas says. “Remember how you wondered if PD was complicit or just useless?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s both,” he replies. “One name keeps popping up—Deputy Mark Renshaw. Suspended two years ago for ‘procedural violations.’ Back on the force after an internal review that smells like somebody paid for it.”
My jaw clenches. “And he’s connected to Damon Ford.”
Silas exhales. “Not directly on paper. But Renshaw’s brother-in-law runs security contracting—shell company vibes. And guess who’s been paid through three layers of subcontracting for ‘consulting’ work?”
“Ford.”
“Ford,” Silas confirms. “Or someone using his credentials.”
My stomach turns. “So the baby’s father has a dirty cop in Kayley’s hometown.”
“And possibly a pipeline,” Silas adds. “Renshaw’s been flagged in a couple anonymous tips over the years. Intimidation. Evidence ‘misplacement.’ A few women filed complaints. All got buried.”
Kayley’s words from last night echo in my head—They smiled, wrote notes, did nothing.
“They didn’t ignore Sophie,” I say coldly. “They managed her.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
I stare out at the tree line beyond the cabin, the snow falling in soft, endless sheets. “Why would they want the baby?”
Silas goes quiet a beat. “That’s the question.”
“Any idea?”
“Could be leverage. Could be inheritance. Could be something in Sophie’s files—clinic records. Could be Ford’s enemies want the kid. Could be Ford wants him for reasons Kayley doesn’t know.”
My hands curl into fists inside my jacket pockets. “I want everything on Renshaw. Addresses, contacts, financials. I want his whole life on my desk.”
“You’ll have it,” Silas says. “And Gavin—be careful. If Ford’s tied into private ops, that means he’s not just one guy. It’s a network.”
“I know,” I say, voice hard. “And if they tested the perimeter last night, they’re getting bolder.”
Silas pauses. “You keeping Kayley with you?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says simply. “Because you’re already too attached.”
I don’t deny it.
“I’ll call you when I have more,” Silas says.
“Do it.”
I end the call and go back inside, jaw set.
The truth is taking shape, and I don’t like what I see.
A dirty cop.
A private ops father.
Threats.
A baby someone is willing to hunt.
This isn’t random.
This is deliberate.
And that means it’s going to escalate.
Kayley wakes up not long after, hair wild, eyes sleepy, wrapped in my sheet like it’s a shield.
For one brief second, she looks peaceful.
Then her gaze flicks to the bassinet, to Aidan, and the worry rushes back into her face like a tide.
“He’s okay,” I say before she can ask. “Woke up hungry. I fed him.”
Her brows lift. “You did?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my chest feels tight with something warm. “He’s got a strong set of lungs. We’re going to have to teach him inside voices.”
Kayley laughs softly, the sound surprised out of her, and it punches straight through me.
Then she looks at me—really looks—and something changes in her expression. Like she’s seeing me differently this morning.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“I wanted to.”
She swallows, gaze dropping briefly to my mouth, and the air between us turns thick.
But I keep it light, because she’s fragile and I’m not going to push. “Breakfast?”
She nods, and while she freshens up, I make eggs, toast, and bacon—simple, solid, the kind of meal you can build a day on.
When she sits at the table, she looks human again. Warm. Fed. Alive.
Aidan stirs, and she scoops him up, feeding him while I drink coffee and watch them like I’m imprinting the image into my bones.
After breakfast, I grab the diaper bag and my jacket.
“Where are we going?” she asks, bouncing Aidan gently.
“Back to the main compound,” I say. “Eli wants to check him again. Make sure that fever stays down.”
Her face tightens. “Are we safe to move?”
“We’re safe,” I say, meeting her eyes. “And even if we weren’t, I’d still move you. Staying predictable is how you get caught.”
She studies me for a long second, then nods. “Okay,” she whispers. “I trust you.”
I open the cabin door and let the cold air roll in, and I keep my body angled toward her as we step outside—shielding, watching, ready.
The snow swallows our footprints almost as soon as we make them.
But I know this:
Someone is out there.
Someone is closing in.
And I’m done being the man who loses people.
Not Kayley.
Not Aidan.
Not now.
Not ever.