Page 78 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

I get up anyway, making sure his box is clean, he has food, water, and the pile of cat toys Elliot brought here. He just wants me up with him. He’s too cute and fluffy to say no to.

When I walk back through the front door, he’s hanging from the top of the blackout curtains. He looks at me with his head tilted. Then he throws it back and howls.

I sigh and run a hand down my face. The curtain is completely fucked.

“Come on, buddy,” I mutter, staring up at the furball currently clinging to the fabric. His eyes are wide and scared, like he is the victim here. “This wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

Jasper lets out another wail. It’s loud and dramatic as he digs his claws in deeper. The curtain sags under his weight, and I hear the fabric rip.

I step closer and reach up, sliding my hands under his chubby little arms. “Let go. I’ve got you. I know you’re scared,” I say, keeping my voice soft and steady as I start to pull, “but I’m your cat dad. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

The second his back paws leave the curtain, he launches himself at my chest with a panicked yowl. I catch him against me, one arm cradling his squirming body while the other tries to keep the ruined curtain from falling completely off the rod.

He stays plastered to my shirt for half a second, breathing fast, then suddenly leaps down and bolts toward the bedroom like the curtain is going to chase after him.

“I don’t know why you’re running like that, buddy,” I call after him. “You’re the problem. I’m not taking the blame for this.”

I’m still trying to drape the ripped fabric back over the rod when I hear the bedroom door open and then the sound of cabinets being yanked open in the kitchen.

Ettie storms in like a hurricane.

She doesn’t even look at me at first. She just starts ripping open drawers and slamming them shut again, the sound sharp and angry in the small space. Elliot walks in slowly behind her, eyes wide. He catches my gaze over her shoulder and mouths, help me.

“Baby, are you still hungry?” I ask carefully, keeping my voice even. “I can cook something for you.”

“Don’t you baby me, Julian Jameson.” She whips around, eyes blazing. “I’m going to kill you. And you—” She jabs a finger at Elliot without looking. “I’m going to kill you dead. Slowly.”

She yanks open another door in the kitchen and slams it shut.

“Where are my pills?”

I swallow hard and look at Elliot. He looks just as lost as I feel.

She moves to the island and starts opening and shutting every drawer, the metal runners scraping loudly with each one.

“Lee, I know, okay?” Elliot says. “I shouldn’t have been watching you.”

She slams the cupboards now, moving around the plates. She’s not going to find them in there either.

“Oh, you know that now?” Her voice is dangerously calm. “Now that I’ve seen your creepy little stalker folder?”

Another cabinet slams. She turns fully toward me this time, eyes narrowed to slits.

“Where are they, Julian?”

I clear my throat, but it doesn’t help the dryness in my mouth. “I threw them out.”

“What the fuck?” she says, voice rising to a high pitch. “Why? And when? And mostly why?”

“The first day we came to the cabin. They were in your go bag. I was checking for anything that might be trackable. I didn’t like them.”

She stares at me for a long second. Then her gaze slides past me to the ripped curtain still half hanging off the rod.

“So you’re ruining the drapes now as well as sabotaging my womb. Again, why?” she repeats, slower this time.

Behind her, Elliot laughs. It’s a short, rough sound he immediately tries to swallow. He puts his fist over his mouth, and he coughs trying to cover it. It’s too late. She's already staring him down.

“Because I want you to give me babies,” I tell her. My voice is a plea.