Harper tossed the wine into the sink and went on a hunt in the pantry for something stronger. When she stepped out with a can of soda and a bottle of Hennessey whiskey, she stopped, unable to tear her gaze from the insanely sexy Adonis lounging in her kitchen doorway. As furious as she was that he’d broken into her home and eavesdropped on her conversation, she was practically choking on her tongue at the way his crossed arms made his impressive biceps strain against his suit jacket. Her fingers itched to yank off that jacket and run across those delicious muscles. And she wouldn’t stop there.
His slow, suggestive smile told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, and it had her belly doing somersaults.
He motioned at the whiskey. “Was it something I said?”
She narrowed her eyes in warning and crossed to the other side of the kitchen, purposely turning her back on him. After splashing some whiskey into a glass, she picked up the can of soda to mix with it. But after a moment of hesitation, she set the soda down and drained the whiskey in one single gulp.
The burn down her throat had her coughing, her eyes watering. She took several deep breaths, her hands braced against the sink. The Hennessey on an empty stomach, on top of the wine she’d already drank, probably wasn’t the wisest choice she’d made today. Then again, between the ever-present fear for her son and her hopeless obsession with Gage, her nerves were tangled in knots. Maybe she should cut herself a break.
When she felt she could stand without wobbling, she turned around to confront the final straw that had brought her to this low point. “You’re welcome to some Hennessey. But you’ll have to make it yourself. I’m not feeling particularly hostessy at the moment.”
“I don’t drink.”
She scoffed. “Since when, pool house boy?”
He arched a brow. “Since I found out I have a son and his life is in danger. I’m staying sober and in control.”
Her face heated. Again. And now she was feeling guilty over the stupid whiskey. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “You were supposed to call me.”
“I did. Three times.”
She frowned and grabbed her purse from the counter where she’d set it when she’d come inside. After riffling through it for her phone, she sighed. There were three missed calls, from the same number.
“I had it on silent for the meeting and forgot to turn the ringer back on.” She updated him as a contact then tossed the phone back in her purse. “What’d you do to get my address? Call in a favor with the Secret Service?”
“Something far easier than that. We used the internet.”
“We?”
“The Justice Seekers.”
“Right. Well, this property isn’t listed under my name, for security reasons.” She grimaced. “Not that it stopped the kidnapper from finding me. Still, I’ll bet your Seekers had to do all kinds of searches and cross-checks to figure out where I live. How long did it take?”
“About thirty seconds.”
She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Of course it did. What about getting inside my house? My sister had a key. What did you use? Some kind of fancy picklock set?”
“Credit card. Your locks couldn’t keep a determined toddler out. You should upgrade all your windows and doors for something much more secure.”
“On that we agree. And you need to learn better manners. Breaking into my house isn’t a way to get on my good side.”
“I’m not trying to get on your good side. I’m trying to keep you, and our son, alive. I purposely got here before you so I could make sure no one was waiting to harm you.”
“I guess Cynthia’s lucky you recognized her and didn’t shoot, huh?” She rolled her eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“Lucky for her and her boyfriend.”
She froze and slowly turned around. “You’re serious? That wasn’t a joke?”
He lifted the edge of his suit jacket, revealing his holstered gun. “I don’t carry this because it matches my outfit.”
She stared at the gun a long moment and then grabbed a bottle of pain pills from another cabinet. After shaking out two, she hesitated before adding another. Nothing seemed strong enough for today’s particular level of insanity.
“Is Cynthia having any money troubles that you know of?”
She clutched the pills in her hand. “Dad’s paying her tuition and board like he did mine. He’s frugal, but generally reasonable. He’s not the type to lavish anyone with extras. Money’s probably tighter than she’d like. But I doubt she’s really hurting.”
“What about her boyfriend? What’s his story?”
“He’s a student at Vanderbilt, like Cynthia. But that’s about all I know.”
“Full name?”
“Dean Everly. Want me to call Cynthia for his social and birthdate?” she teased.
He smiled. “Maybe later. Does your sister know about your pregnancy?”
She blinked then looked away. Her pregnancy—the long lonely months, the awfulness of losing Shane within moments of his birth—wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss, or even think about.
“Harper?”
She reluctantly met his gaze.
“I know that time in your life has to be an incredibly painful topic. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”
She pulled in a shaky breath, nodded. “I know.”
“Could Cynthia have known about it?”
“I honestly don’t see how. She’s a lot younger than me and—”
“Six years. She would have been fourteen or fifteen when you were carrying Shane. Old enough to know what’s going on when your body started changing.”
“Did you remember that on your own? The difference in our ages? Or is that from one of those Justice Seeker internet searches?”
He shifted against the doorframe and crossed his long legs at the ankle. “I remember everything about you, Harper.”
His declaration caught her off guard, especially since he didn’t offer an explanation. She gave a nervous laugh. “I Imagine you remember pretty much everything about the people you’ve been assigned to protect over the years.”
He slowly shook his head. “Only you.”
Her mouth went dry; a legion of butterflies took flight in her stomach. The look in his eyes seemed almost...hungry. The answering hunger inside her took her completely by surprise. She tore her gaze from his, hoping he wouldn’t realize just how out of sorts he was making her.
“I, um, I doubt Cynthia knew anything. About my pregnancy. She was in DC with my dad and her mom, living at the White House.”
“What about weekends? Holidays? Didn’t she see you then?”
“Early on, a few times, sure. We’d meet up at my father’s house when he took some time off, as much as any president can really take time off. But once I started showing, that ended. I never left the rental house after that.”
“What about your stepmom, Julia? Did she know?”
“Well, yes, but she wouldn’t have told Cynthia. Can you imagine? A teenage girl, especially one as rebellious as my sister, having that kind of power over my father’s reputation and career? No way. The only people who knew were my father and Julia.”
“You said there was a midwife in the rental with you. Did you go see a doctor, too?”
“The midwife was my doctor. My turn. I understand Cynthia getting here before me. She probably hit the road while you and I were still in the conference room. But how did you get here before either of us? How long were you here before she arrived?”
“Twenty, thirty minutes. Give or take.”
“Now I know you’re exaggerating. That’s impossible.” She started to cross her arms and realized she still hadn’t taken the pills. She tossed them back and washed them down with the water bottle.
“I took a shortcut,” he said. “Headache?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Its name is Gage Bishop.”
His mouth quirked in a wry grin.
Good grief, he was sexy when he did that. Who was she kidding? He was sexy no matter what he did.
She took another sip of water, using the time to compose herself again. “There aren’t any shortcuts to this place. You had to take I-40, which leads directly to the road out front. That’s the same route I took, and Cynthia, too, I’m sure.”
He shrugged noncommittally and moved past her to look through a slit in the blinds on the kitchen door. “Notice anything after you came in?”
“Other than a nosy neighbor, that my sister had broken into my house, her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend smoking on my back porch, and later, a six-foot-two-inch man hovering in my doorway?”
“Six foot three.”
She arched a brow. “Funny how you keep correcting me to say everything is bigger than I thought it was. Is there anything else you want to clarify, size-wise?”
“Well, if we’re being really honest here, my—”
“Don’t you dare! Forget I asked.” Her face was flaming hot.
Laughter rumbled in his chest.
She shoved her long hair back, belatedly wishing she’d braided it or put it in a ponytail. “I think you were about to tell me something else I should have noticed when I came inside. The G-rated version, please.”
“But the R-rated one is so much more fun,” he teased.
“Gage—”
He winked then tapped the alarm keypad beside the door. “This wasn’t set when I came in.”
That wink obliterated about fifty of her IQ points. No wonder she’d fallen for him back in college.
He was waiting for her reply. What had he said? The alarm. It wasn’t set. “Right. I remember wondering about that. But I figured I forgot to set it this morning. It’s fairly new, not exactly muscle memory yet.”
He considered that. “Does anyone else have a key to this place? Maybe your neighbor, Blake Carter?”
“No way. How did you know his name?”
“You mentioned it when you were talking to your sister.”
“Well, of course I did,” she grumbled. She’d mentioned a lot of things. Embarrassing things. Like how hot he was. And the Big O. “Exactly, um, how much did you hear of our conversation?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “All of it.”
Her face heated, again, which was really annoying considering she was twenty-six and should be well past the blushing stage in her life.
“Do you sometimes forget to lock your doors? Like you forgot the alarm?”
She was about to insist that she always locked her doors, but hesitated. “Honestly, I couldn’t say. Living out here in the country, with only one neighbor close by, I never used to bother with the locks. But Blake’s been so annoying lately I’ve started making a habit of it. Or trying to.”
“Lately? This is new behavior on his part?”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess it is.”
“How long has he lived next door?”
“Longer than I’ve been here. I bought this place two years ago.”
Gage pulled out his phone and started typing a text. “You said you’d never dated him. What about sharing rides into town? Maybe grabbing a coffee together?”
“Okay, first of all, it’s not fair that you know so much because of eavesdropping on my conversation with my sister. Second, give me some credit. He’s definitely not my type.”
“You’re definitely his type. He was like a lap dog out there, panting at your heels.”
“Jealous, Bishop?”
He frowned as he continued typing. “Don’t call me Bishop.”
“Why not? Everyone else does.”
He put the phone away. “It doesn’t sound right coming from you. How has your neighbor been bothering you? What’s he done?”
She waved a hand in the air. “Stupid stuff. Doesn’t matter.”
He moved directly in front of her. “This Good Samaritan person hid our son for five years and is now trying to trade him for ransom. It’s likely he’s got someone keeping an eye on you, on this house. And you just told me your neighbor is acting differently than he has for the past two years. It matters.”
Her hand shook as she pushed her hair back again. “You think Blake’s in league with the kidnapper?”
“I think it’s a possibility. We haven’t ruled anyone out yet. Mason has the whole team working on this, so things are going to move fast. They have to, with only a few days until the exchange. What’s he done lately that’s different than before?”
Her stomach did a little flip with him standing so close. Polite, nice, sweet Gage had been impossible to resist when she was a smitten nineteen or twenty year-old. This edgier, more confident, and oh so determined Gage was even more compelling. He had her selfishly wanting to step into his arms and lay all her worries on his broad shoulders. But she was afraid that if she ever did that, she’d never be able to let him go.
She’d built a life without him, had been forced to. And he’d built one without her. Going back to the way things used to be was impossible. Those people no longer existed. Did she even want to risk her heart with him? What if he rejected her? Again? She didn’t want to go back to the broken woman she’d once been. And if there was anything she knew for sure, Gage Bishop, of all men, had the power to break her.
“Harper? What’s changed with your neighbor?”
“It’s just that... Well, aside from the small grassy areas right around the house, the rest is woods. And a navigable creek on the southern property line. But the previous owner built this house really close to Blake’s. That means, every time I come up my driveway or turn on a light, he can see it, if he’s watching. And lately it seems like he’s been watching quite a bit. He’s always underfoot, knocking on my door when I get home or wanting to visit.”
She decided to leave out the parts about him brushing against her and swearing it was an accident. It had happened too many times not to be deliberate. Knowing Gage, if he thought Blake had touched her inappropriately, he’d stride over there and teach the man a lesson with his fists. “He’s a pest, for sure, annoying. But he seems harmless.”
She wasn’t sure Gage believed her glossed-over version of events. But he didn’t press the issue.
“I’m surprised you bought a place outside Knoxville. I expected you’d build a house on your family’s Nashville estate. They certainly have the land for it. I remember your father offering it as an option.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. But living on the estate, even if it was at the back of their considerable acreage, would be too close for comfort. I want them far enough away so they’re not visiting me all the time but not so far that I can’t drive up and see them without having to drive forever to get there. What’s this have to do with the kidnapper or figuring out who might be working with him?”
He shrugged. “Probably nothing. I was curious. You said you’ve lived here two years, but the alarm is new. How new?”
“It was installed two weeks ago, before I received the ransom note. The two aren’t related, unless you really think Blake’s involved somehow.”
“If it makes you feel better, I think it’s unlikely that he is, given that he lived here before you bought your property. But I texted the team to do a background check on him, just in case. Was the ransom note mailed to you, or left at your door?”
“If I answer that, will I get a break? Or should I call my lawyer?”
“Sorry. I can be a bit intense when working a case.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is relentless. Yes, the ransom note came in the mail. Or...well, I think it did. It had a stamp on it and was in my mailbox. I’ll answer exactly one more question before I cry uncle. After that, I’m either pouring myself another whiskey or breaking out a gallon of ice cream.”
“What kind of ice cream?”
“Is that the final question you chose?”
He laughed. “Only if I get a follow-up.”
“Mint chocolate chip.”
“I’m not surprised. You always used to keep a pint in the freezer—for emergencies. I was never sure what constituted an emergency, though.”
She smiled, remembering the few times she’d been able to entice him to watch a movie or to share a meal in the main house instead of retreating to the pool house. It hadn’t happened often. But she’d treasured the times it had.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and his smile faded. His expression turned serious again. “Where’s the original ransom note?”
“In the floor safe in my office.”
He strode out of the kitchen.
She called to him as she pushed away from the counter to follow. “It’s down the hall on the—”
He disappeared into her office.
“—left,” she finished. Sighing, she hurried to catch up.