Marching Orders. Delores Fossen

to wait,” she clarified.

      “Damn,” he mumbled. Silently, he added some much harsher profanity.

      He stared at her, cursing this stupid plan and cursing the fact that he hadn’t stopped it. But there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

      Besides, he had a more urgent problem facing him. Literally. Somehow, he had to get the gun away from this woman without either of them getting hurt.

      “Anna—”

      But that’s all he managed to say.

      “Rafe and I were lovers,” she whispered, a tear racing down her cheek.

      There was no good comeback for that so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He figured he’d be saying that plenty of times before the night was over.

      “Sorry?” she snapped. Her eyes sliced at him with a scalpel-sharp glare. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Two months too late. I’m pregnant.”

      Oh, man. That knocked the breath right out of him. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and stare at her.

      Pregnant!

      Hell.

      Anna was pregnant.

      With her eyes brimming with tears, she levered the gun slightly higher. “And now I want to know what you’ve done with my baby’s father.”