Milo was so damn mad that he wanted to hurt something. Before he was shoved into the backseat of the car, Milo dropped his keys, praying Bryson found them and recognized them for the clue that they were.

He would never lose his mother's angel charm. He had told Bryson how special it was to him. If Bryson spotted the keys on the ground, Milo prayed the man would figure out that something was amiss.

Because Bryson was his only hope. Maybe the man could shift and eat Quinn. His father deserved nothing less.

Bryson curled his fingers around the keys in the palm of his hand. When he'd found them outside of Milo's home, Bryson had known something was wrong. He'd questioned the neighbors but no one had seen anything. It was as if Milo had disappeared into thin air.

But Bryson knew that wasn't true. Milo would have never lost the charm his mother had given him. He wouldn't have left his pregnant cat, either. A cat Bryson had brought home to the ranch until he could give Elyse back to Milo.

That only left one possibility. Quinn had somehow found Milo.

"We'll get him back," Harland said as Bryson sat at the dining room table listening to his friends argue about how to find Quinn McNeil. It had been a week since Milo disappeared, and Bryson was going insane.

They had already driven to California and found where Quinn lived. They'd even muscled their way into his estate. But Quinn and Milo were nowhere to be found.

The man had stashed Milo somewhere. Bryson just knew it. He gazed at the wedding band on his finger and was determined to get Milo back. His worst fear was that Quinn would make Milo pay for leaving in the first place.

If he harmed one hair on Milo's head, Bryson was going to go bear on him. He was going to do that anyway, for the simple fact that Quinn had dared to take something from Bryson. He was going to show the man teeth and claws and teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

Milo's name floated insistently through Bryson's mind as he thought of the small moments they had shared. He could still picture Milo standing in the field up in the mountains as the man gazed over Bear County in sheer awe.

He thought back to when they had stood outside the Laundromat, both too shy to say what was really on their minds. Milo's face had been a halo of beauty as he'd stood under the streetlamp. Bryson hadn't realized it at the time, but he had been falling for Milo even then.

It wasn't a simple fact of asking the man out. The bond had started to grow. Now that he looked back on things, he admitted to himself that he'd been smitten with Milo from the first time he'd ever laid eyes on the human. He wanted another sweet kiss from Milo, to feel the man in his arms, to inhale his wonderful scent and revel in the fact that Milo was his.

But his arms were empty, and his stomach knotted into a tight fist at the ache Bryson felt to cradle his husband in his arms once again.

He shook his head angrily. Why the hell had he let Milo go home? He knew the man lived in fear of his father finding him. Bryson should have demanded that Milo stay at the ranch. But he hadn't wanted to frighten the man. Bryson didn't want to rule over Milo as Quinn had. He wanted to give Milo as much freedom as the man needed and wanted.

But when he got the man back, Bryson wasn't going to let Milo out of his sight.

"Any word?" Renee asked as she walked into the dining room. He could see the worry in her eyes and appreciated just how much she cared about the man Bryson had fallen in love with. That said a lot about her character.

"Nothing." Bryson heard the raw desperation in his voice. What if he never found Milo? The thought took him by the throat. It had teeth, and it wouldn't let go. He had spent the past week going out of his mind.

Renee slid her arm around Bryson's shoulder and gave him a light squeeze. "You'll find him. I have every confidence in the world that he'll be back here in no time."

Bryson wished he was that confident. For all he knew, Quinn had stashed Milo somewhere overseas. The man had the funds to do just about anything he wanted, to hide Milo anywhere in the world.

He knew he had to prepare himself for the cold and sobering truth that he may never get Milo back. But Bryson was never going to give up. Knowing he had failed Milo was like a kick to his balls. How could he have let Milo down like that?

Even if Milo wasn't his mate, the man was his husband and he needed Bryson's help. He wasn't going to leave Milo out there high and dry.

The waiting was the worst part. His heart stuttered and all the breath left his lungs in a painful burst as he thought about how scared Milo probably was.

I'm going to find him. Don't let your fear take over. Believe in what Renee is saying. You'll have Milo back.

A rush of anger, hope, fear, and rage raced through him like a deadly virus, eating him alive.

Until he took his last breath, Bryson would scour the world looking for the man who held his heart.

Milo was sweating up a storm as the pain in his back started again. It still boggled his mind that he was pregnant. At first, he had thought he was getting sick from the food in this god-awful place.

Quinn had jetted him out of the country and had stashed Milo in some small village. He didn't even know where he was. There were no forms of communication in the tiny hut he'd been forced to live in for the past three months. Although he was fed well, the conditions were deplorable. The floor was made of dirt and the only thing in there was a straw bed and a small table where he washed up. The guards had dug a hole for Milo to use the bathroom in. He was living with an outhouse in his hut. There were some days when the temperatures swelled over one hundred, making the smell in his hut unbearable.

No one knew that he was pregnant except the lone man who came by his hut to check on Milo every day. Quinn was a bastard of a father, but he had paid these men well to ensure Milo's health and safety. He'd also told Milo that he wasn't going to marry Drake, that Drake had decided Milo was too big of a hassle to try and keep under his thumb, and that this place was his punishment. As least the man hadn't annulled his marriage to Bryson. But Milo was under no illusion that Quinn cared just because he paid these men to take good care of him.

If Quinn really cared, he wouldn't have done this. And the guards had disregarded Quinn's orders. Their brutality had known no bounds during the three months Milo had been shoved in this hut.

Milo gritted his teeth as pain racked his body. The air was so heavy and concentrated that it swam in lines in front of Milo's eyes. Breathing was damn near impossible, especially considering the pain he was in.

He didn't know a damn thing about giving birth, but Milo was almost positive he was in labor. He was also terrified of how he was going to push the baby out. He rocked back and forth as he closed his eyes, tears trickling down his face. Milo wanted Bryson. He was scared out of his mind and needed the one man he had felt safe with.

Despite the oppressive heat and humidity, coldness seeped into his bones. What if he died giving birth? What if he never saw Bryson again? What would happen to the baby once Milo gave birth? The dirt floor felt cold and hard as Milo began to weep.

He didn't want to go through this alone. If Bryson was ever going to save him, now would be a damn good time.

Chapter Eight.

"Are you sure?" Bryce wasn't going to get his hopes up. Over the past three months, they had received numerous tips about Milo's possible whereabouts, but each one had led to a dead end. If he had to suffer through one more disappointment, Bryson knew he would lose his mind.

Sparrow nodded. "From the intel my team gathered, we're ninety percent sure he's there."

Bryson still couldn't believe that Sparrow had connections. Not like this. As soon as the sheriff had found out that Milo had been kidnapped by his very own father, Sparrow had called in favors, gathering what he referred to as his "old team."

How in the hell did the sheriff have a team? He was a small-town cop. He shouldn't have a team. But apparently there was more to Sparrow than met the eye. And Bryson soon found that Sparrow was well connected.

The sheriff had been using those connections over the past three months to track Milo down. Reports had come in from Paris, Germany, Ireland, and everywhere else all over the damn world.

But so far Milo hadn't been found.

Bryson was tired of getting his hopes up. Ninety percent was good, but he would prefer one hundred. Nevertheless, this was the first lead with this strong a chance of being accurate.

"They'll be heading in tonight under the cover of darkness," Sparrow was saying. "My team has downloaded the local maps into their GPS's along with satellite images they captured. If all goes well, and it's really Milo in that hut, you'll have him back in no time." Sparrow slapped Bryson on the shoulder, giving him a confident grin.

It had been three long months, yet Bryson felt like he couldn't survive the next forty-eight hours. He glanced up at Sparrow. "I just want him back."

Sparrow's expression grew serious. "If that's Milo, they'll get him back. I promise."

Bryce glanced around at his friends who were gathered in the dining room. They might have protested him marrying Milo, but when the shit got ugly, they had been there for him with no hesitation.

Clayton, Harland, and Jed had searched the West Coast with Bryson, never once complaining. Clayton had been the one to search the hardest. He had confessed to Bryson what he'd said to Milo over the phone. Bryson had been ready to snap Clayton's neck.

But he could see the guilt in the man's eyes and knew that Clayton was remorseful. He knew Clayton cared about him, but the man could've handled the situation better when talking with Milo.

"Hopefully that investigation involving Quinn McNeil pans out," Jed said as he took a seat at the table. "That would solve the problem of keeping Milo safe."

Sparrow had used his connections for other purposes as well. He had someone looking into Quinn for laundering money for some very bad people. When Sparrow's men dug, they dug deep.

They had found a private account that was under a different name than Quinn's. They suspected it was the account the money was being laundered through. What gave Bryson a cold feeling in his gut was when he heard the word Columbia being used.

That could only mean drugs.

Just what in the hell was Quinn into? The man was already rich as fuck, what did he need drug money for? For some men, it seemed, enough wasn't enough, and Quinn was a greedy pig that needed to be slaughtered.

Bryson just prayed like hell that Milo wasn't being held in some cartel compound. He twisted the band on his finger, determined not to give in to any fears.

The day dragged by and Bryson was near madness by the time the first report came in. Sparrow had set up a communications base in the dining room. He had wanted Bryson to be informed every step of the way. Plus, the dining room was the only room in the house big enough to accommodate the equipment.

Bryson had no clue what half the stuff was. Correction, he had no clue what any of it was.

Sparrow sat in a chair with thick, foamy headphones over his ears. He looked up at Bryson. "They've landed."

"Can I listen in?" Bryson asked.

Sparrow pointed to an extra set of headphones on the table. Bryson took a seat and slid them over his head. For the longest time, all was quiet, then a thunderous explosion pierced Bryson's ears. He heard rapid gunfire and Bryson's heart seized in his chest.

"I need cover on the north," someone said into Bryson's ear. He started to reply but then realized the man wasn't talking to him, but to someone else on his team.

His muscles locked into place as his breathing grew shallow. Bryson was desperate to know what was going on, but his throat was too constricted to ask Sparrow if the guy knew. He wasn't sure how Sparrow would know either, since the guy was sitting next to him, but Bryson needed answers.

Another explosion sounded like a million thunderclaps. More rapid gunfire. Quiet talking in their communication pieces. Bryson almost felt as if he were there, fighting alongside Sparrow's men. His mind conjured up an image of them trudging through the jungle, shooting at the enemy, blowing shit up. He would swear for years to come that he'd felt the floor shake beneath him.

A voice echoed in Bryson's ear and all he could do was hold his breath.

"Are you Milo McNeil?"

It felt like a lifetime as Bryson waited for the answer. Tears sprang to his eyes when he heard the voice that had haunted his dreams for three months, the voice he was so desperate to hear that some days the need nearly broke him.

"Yes."

Bryson squeezed his eyes closed as the tears trickled down his face. His body trembled as his mouth went dry. He was having a difficult time breathing. Bryson bowed his head, giving thanks that Milo had finally been found.

"Jesus," someone cursed into the earpiece. "What the hell is going on?"

Bryson's head snapped up. He wasn't sure what was going on, but there was definite shock and puzzlement in the man's voice.

Sparrow removed his headphones before putting a microphone on over his head. "Talk to me, T-Rex."

"We have to move out," someone said into the headset still strapped to Bryson's ears.

"But he's fucking pregnant," T-Rex shouted in disbelief. "And from the looks of things, he's giving birth."

Every muscle Bryson possessed went stiff. His heart began to race as a heavy feeling pervaded his stomach. He was disoriented, dizzy, as a sudden coldness hit his core.

"I don't know shit about delivering a baby," someone said into the earpiece.

"But he's a guy!" the man Sparrow had referred to as T-Rex said. "How the fuck is this even possible?"

"Snap out of it," Sparrow growled into the microphone close to his mouth. "Get your shit together and remember your training. Deliver that goddamn baby and get them out of there."

Bryson squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed his fists to the side of his head, gasping for air. Milo was his mate. Milo was pregnant. Milo was giving fucking birth.

And Bryson wasn't there.

Pain tightened in the back of his throat as his stomach churned. He wanted to be there. Bryson wanted to witness the birth of his child. His leg began to bounce with restless energy as he swore under his breath. He needed to be there. Milo needed him to be there.

But the only goddamn thing he could do was listen and pray that everything went okay.

"Holy hell," someone whispered into the earpiece. "There's a freaking small head popping out."

Bryson gripped the table, listening intently, trying to hear every nuance of noise.

He heard gunfire in the background.

"Hurry, T-Rex," someone said. "We're running out of time."

"Tell that to the baby coming out of the man's stomach," T-Rex snapped.

Breathlessness overtook Bryson and heat radiated through his chest. A feeling of weightlessness seized him when he heard the shrill cry of his child. Sparrow reached over and slapped Bryson hard on his knee. The man was grinning from ear to ear as he gave Bryson a thumbs-up.

Bryson shook with excitement as his head spun. "Ask them what it is," Bryson said to Sparrow.

"What do we have, fellas?" Sparrow asked.

"A goddamn miracle," T-Rex said.

"They're closing in on us," someone else said. "We have to get moving, now!"

Bryson shot forward, slamming his fist onto the table. He felt so damn helpless. His adrenaline was spiking through him as his anger flared.

"Let's get to our rendezvous point," T-Rex said.

And then all went quiet.