15
It’s funny how things seemed worse in the dark.
They seemed scarier, too.
It had been hours since I said good-bye to Jack and my mom. Hours that I wondered where they were and if they were safe. I hoped I would get a call from Spencer or even Mr. Walsh to tell me they were okay.
But no call came.
The hour drew later and the sky outside turned black, giving me an even greater ominous feeling.
I stared out the window again and again, trying to figure out where the unmarked car was the Secret Service put on my house. I never saw it. I never even saw a hint of protection out there.
What if they were gone? What if they decided if I was dead, the threat to the president was as well?
But it wouldn’t be. Those masked men would just find someone else to try and force. They were angry I hadn’t done what they wanted. They were anxious and annoyed with me. How much longer could I do nothing until they came for me? For Jack?
Who could it be? Who could want the president dead? Who would gain the most from it? I had no idea. I didn’t think like a killer or a politician. I thought like a chef. I thought in cups and spoons, in chocolate and herbs.
My stomach rumbled violently. I was beyond starving. Since I wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, I might as well eat. Eating was better than staring out the window, looking for a person I would never see.
In the kitchen, I looked inside the fridge, but nothing appealed to me. The apples, the vegetables, the salad and chicken… nothing. I didn’t feel like cooking either.
I opened the freezer and saw the large container of Rocky Road ice cream. Bingo. I pulled it out, then reached back in the fridge for the container of hot fudge and the whipped cream. Sugar made everything better.
I reached up into the cabinet for a large bowl and turned, stopping in my tracks.
The handle on the back door was jiggling, like someone was trying to get in. My grip around the bowl tightened. If worse came to worse, I could clobber them with it and hope it gave me time to run.
I glanced at my cell lying right there on the counter and wondered if I should call the police or Mr. Walsh.
I didn’t have time to do either because the door swung open. A dark figure stepped in and quickly shut the door behind him. The man was wearing jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt. When he turned abruptly and pushed the hood off his head, he revealed familiar dirty-blond hair.
I gasped. “Spencer!”
“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Sorry to just let myself in. I didn’t have time to knock and wait for you to answer.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” I said, setting the bowl on the counter.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“You could have called,” I accused.
“I don’t know who’s listening,” he replied, not angry at my accusation.
My shoulders slumped. He was right. When it came to my son, then I would rather be scared than have any information about his whereabouts leak.
“How’s Jack?” I asked, desperate for any kind of news.
He strode across the room in two long strides and pulled me against his chest. He was warm and the steady beat of his heart made me believe everything was okay. “He’s good,” he said, a smile in his tone. “That boy is something else.”
I pulled back to look at him. “He likes you.”
“I like him, too,” he said fondly as he scrolled through his phone. He extended the screen to me, holding out a picture that he must have taken of Jack.
He was smiling and still clutching the turtle Spencer gave him. He didn’t seem scared at all, and there were trees and flowers in the background of wherever he was.
“He’s okay?” I said, relief making me weepy.
“Yes. I promise.”
“I’ve been worried,” I confessed.
“I know.”
“I was thinking,” I said, changing the subject. “The person from the aquarium, the one that said he was paid to take Jack? We should get a sketch artist to do a drawing, maybe whoever hired him is the person who wants to kill the president.”
He smiled. “Already on it. The artist has been with him this evening.”
“Oh, good.”
“Everything that is humanly possible to put an end to this is being done.” He reassured me, his eyes automatically going around the room. He smiled when he saw the ice cream.
“You want some?” I asked.
“Got any cookies?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
He debated.
“Is that a yes or a no?” I asked.
“Does a horse have a tail?”
I assumed that meant yes, so I went to get another bowl.
“How did you get in here?” I asked. “What if someone saw you?”
He scoffed. “I’m a Secret Service agent. Before that, I was military. No one saw me.”
“A ninja with lots of training,” I said, looking up from my task. “Good with kids, attractive, sexy car.” I continued to list. “How is it you’re single?”
He leaned across the counter and gave me a penetrating stare. “I’m a lot sexier than my car.”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
He took the spoon, which was covered in ice cream, and set it aside. Grasping my hand, he pulled me around the island, towing me up against his chest. “You know it.”
“Hmmm.” I pretended to debate.
“Do you question my sexiness?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. At the same time, he reached for the hem of the T-shirt I put on after I got home.
“Maybe you should prove it,” I purred.
What the hell was I doing? Getting involved with a man was not in the plans for me. Getting involved with one during a time when my life was a complete shit storm was even worse. ‘Course, at the moment, I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do than feel his hands on me. Jack was safe; he was out of immediate danger. My mother was safe. The police were working with a witness and a sketch artist.
There really was nowhere I needed to be. Except right here in his arms.
“Darlin’,” he drawled, sending tingles of excitement shooting through my lower body. “When I’m done with you, there won’t be a single doubt in your mind.”
I shrieked a little when he grabbed me around the waist and spun me off my feet. My bottom hit the island, and he stepped between my knees. His muscled arm wrapped around the small of my back, and he pulled, jerking me against him, and my core brushed up against the jeans he was wearing.