it.
“What?” he asked.
“My phone. It’s missing.”
“You threw it on the ground, remember?” He could still hear the sound of the glass of the phone crunching as it hit the concrete. He was impressed she had thought to sacrifice her phone for the greater good.
“Dammit… Okay, first stop, I need a new phone.” She looked up at him, appearing somewhat frantic at the prospect of being cut off from the outside world.
“If you need to get ahold of someone, like your boyfriend or whatever, you can use my phone.” He lifted the bag he was carrying for her to see. “It’s in my briefcase.” He reached inside his bag and pulled out his cell phone.
He had twenty-seven text messages. Most of them were from his sister Zoey, who had pulled data about the attack and immediately pieced together what had happened. The farther he read down into her texts, the more frantic they had become, with the last unanswered text reading, I’m on my way to NYC if I don’t hear back from you. Plane leaves in three hours.
That had been two hours ago.
He tapped out a quick message to let her know that he was okay, but no doubt she would still be beside herself with concern. It was one of the things he loved about his brothers and sisters—or rather, sister…now that Trish was gone.
God, he was never going to get used to that.
He was nowhere near ready to go to Montana and face his family and the ranch without his sister. Though logically he knew it wasn’t his fault, he still felt responsible. He was the one who had picked the job. He was the one who had put their family right in the middle of the Gray Wolves crosshairs. If he had just jumped on another ticket and taken another contract instead of this one, they could have been a thousand miles away and unknown to the men who now wanted them dead.
“Everything okay?” Mindy asked, looking at his phone as she walked over to the sink and washed her hands. “Your wife freaking out?”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped him. “No wife. No kids. No home base.”
“Ah,” she said, drying her hands. “I see. You are the rootless man.”
“Is that this generation’s way of asking if I’m a playboy?” he asked.
She giggled, the sound melting away even more of his resolve to stay emotionally detached from the beautiful woman standing in front of him with nothing on but a hospital gown. “You aren’t that much older than me, are you?”
He wasn’t stupid enough or young enough to fall into the trap of asking her exact age, but he guessed she was about twenty-eight. “I’m sure we are within a few years of each other. But I turned in my cool card years ago.”
“Clearly,” she said, grabbing a clean hospital gown that was folded and sitting beside the sink.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You may not care about flashing the outside world, but I need a little more coverage.” She indicated her backside.
He laughed. “You and your rear end have nothing to worry about. You have me for coverage.”
“Are you saying you want to…cover my rear?” she asked, giving him a disbelieving and yet alluring smile.
He would have been lying if he said no, so he grabbed her bag. “I admit nothing.”
“Okay, I see how it is.” She took the second gown and slipped it over the first, this time putting the back in the front. “There, now you won’t be so tempted…”
Two little hospital gowns and the bedhead she was rocking wouldn’t stop the way he was feeling about her. His only option was to get the answers he needed and then get the hell out of Dodge. If he stayed with her too long, he’d have to face his most challenging enemy—his feelings—and as the leader of his family and STEALTH he didn’t have time or the freedom for such a mind-set.
He peered out the door of her room and waited for a nurse to turn the corner. “Let’s go.”
She followed behind as he tried to seem as nonchalant as possible while making their way to the back stairwell.
He held the door open for her, and she started downward. Her footfalls echoed in the concrete stairwell, sounding like spring raindrops clearing away the dusty remnants of his wintery soul.
He took one more glance behind them, but the man from the nurses station was nowhere to be seen.
Yes. He was making something out of nothing. Perhaps the attack had been intended for Hans and they had merely been bystanders.
Regardless, they were lucky to be alive, and it was his mission to keep it that way for as long as it took to get the information he needed about Mindy and her family’s role in the stolen government secrets.
At least, that was what he needed to tell himself in order to remain at arm’s length from this woman. If he let this get personal, he was going to find himself in trouble. And trouble was one thing already rampant in his life.
“I get that we are leaving AMA and all, but why are you acting like we’re being chased?” she asked, stopping at the entrance to the second floor.
He wanted her to keep moving, so he made his way past her hoping it would urge her along.
“You don’t think whoever was behind this attack was coming after me, do you?” she pressed.
Her…him… Hans… He couldn’t be sure.
Maybe whoever had pitched the nerve agent was trying to take all three down in one fell swoop.
“Is there a reason you think that may be the case?” he asked, giving nothing away.
She looked away from him, but not before he saw the flicker of concern and fear move across her face.
She held secrets, but he was certain he could get her to loosen her grip and hand them over to him. All he needed was a little more time, a bit more pressure and an increment of fear. Maybe now was the time to talk of murder.
The Lyft driver hadn’t spoken to them, which was just fine by Mindy. She hated the formality and awkwardness that came with forced small talk with a single-serving stranger. It wasn’t that she wasn’t nice or didn’t want to be kind to others; it was just that with everything in her own life, giving any more emotionally—even ten minutes to a stranger—threatened what little control she had left. She was so tired.
As they arrived at her Upper West Side brownstone, Jarrod got out and walked around to her side, opening the car door for her. The gesture was as welcome as it was unexpected. It was a rare New York man who still had manners, or perhaps it was just that the prep-school kind of men she dated had let manners fall by the wayside. Maybe this man could finally bring a bit more civility and old-world charm into her life.
“Thanks,” she said, holding her hospital gowns in place like they were a Givenchy cocktail dress instead of the blue checkered fabric that had been worn by countless others.
She couldn’t wait to take a shower. Yet, if she left him alone in her apartment, she would be the one devoid of manners. Assuming that he was coming in. He probably had better places to be, including reporting back to his Swedish bosses.
“You are welcome, ma’am.”
Oh no, he didn’t… Old-world charm be damned.
“Ma’am? Really?” she asked, raising a brow. “What am I, eighty?”
He laughed, the sound rich and baritone, as strong and virile as the man it belonged to. “I’m sorry, I guess my upbringing is showing. I didn’t mean