The Vanishing Season (The Collector #4)(101)

She smiles and tugs him half over to run a hand through his curls, nails scratching gently along his scalp.

“So when do we get to find out if we’ve got a niece or a nephew cooking in there?” Cass asks, flopping onto a chair.

“Oh?” Eliza asks innocently. “Have you been wondering that?”

“Eliza!” comes the protest from the other woman. Vic just laughs and shakes his head.

“You did give in and find out today,” Brandon points out. “Even I don’t know yet.”

“Does that mean we have to leave the room so she can tell you in private?” Cass looks less than thrilled with the prospect.

“Your choice, mi corazón,” he tells Eliza.

She reaches for his hand and he gives it willingly, letting her pull him to his knees between the ottoman and the couch. She lifts her Rockies shirt enough to smooth his palm over her warm, bare skin and the life growing within. “There’s still a margin of error, even with the blood test,” she reminds all of them, “but the doctor says it’s a little girl.”

A little girl.

For a moment he freezes, fear snaking down his spine. But only for a moment. He’s getting better about the guilt that still flares up from time to time at the thought of his sister.

“And I was thinking, for a name . . .”

He looks up at her warily. So many of his family members have asked if he’ll name a daughter for his sister, but he doesn’t think . . . he’s not sure he can have that kind of Faith in his life again.

Eliza bites her lip, watching him closely. “Hope.”

Hope. “That’s perfect,” he breathes, and the knot in his chest loosens.

In the cheerful chatter that surrounds them, she pulls him closer until his cheek rests against her belly. “I know you’re still afraid,” she whispers. “I know you still worry. But you, Brandon Eddison, are going to be a wonderful father. She is going to love you.”

He nods, then backs away with a yelp, rubbing at his cheek. “She kicked me!”

Every woman in the room raises her glass and cheers. “Atta girl!”

Faith and Hope, he thinks in the laughter that follows. The ideas always seemed inextricably intertwined. Maybe now, finally, he understands why.

Eliza struggles to lean forward, and he meets her halfway, their foreheads pressed gently together. “Are you ready for this?” she asks.

He nods and kisses her softly. “Listo.”





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Holy crow, what a wild ride this has been. As we say goodbye to our team of FBI agents, I want to thank all of you for reading these books, and talking about them, and sharing them with others—your enthusiasm is what’s made it possible to continue telling their stories, and I am so, so grateful. Without you, these books wouldn’t exist.

All the gratitude in the world goes to the amazing team at Thomas & Mercer. Thank you for your excitement and your celebration for each milestone along the way. It takes a lot of people to bring a book into the world, and even more to make it a series—you’ve all been amazing, and amazing to work with. I love that each new twisted idea gives you joy rather than scares you off.

Thank you to my friends and family, who never seem to mind when “How’s the book going?” gets answered with unnerving laughter. To Robert, who answers some frankly disturbing legal questions without blinking, and to Kelie, who put together a whole file of information on cadaver dogs and sent it to me with the subject line PUPPIES!!! To the Kansas writing contingent, for endless support and commiseration and the occasional drink. To Isabel, who gets deluged with emails and texts with ideas and snippets and moments of pun-induced shame. Thank you all, my lovelies.