by Caila Jaynes
“Suit yourself.” He took a small duffel bag out of the trunk and stalked toward the door, muttering something to Jeremy, who’d stepped outside.
“Will you let me take it in?” Jeremy gestured toward Claire’s suitcase as he came forward.
She gave him a quick smile and picked up her purse and tote. At least she’d be sharing the house with someone who was friendly. She followed him inside and up a flight of stairs.
“You’ll be here in the master suite.”
Jeremy led her into the large room and set her suitcase onto the king-sized bed. “I’ll be downstairs. Come get me if you need anything.”
Claire thanked him and looked around the room after he left, clutching her purse to her chest. With its stark furnishings and white walls, the bedroom looked almost institutional. The carpet was bland and gray. Even the bedspread was neutral, and there was nothing on the walls to liven up the room, no knickknacks on the dresser or bedside tables. It had a private bath, though, and sliding-glass doors that led to a tiny balcony that overlooked the front yard.
The gravity of her situation had been pushed to the back of her mind. Now it hit her hard as she sank onto the bed and twisted the diamond bracelet on her wrist. She’d been so focused on contacting her parents to let them know where she was, she hadn’t even thought to call Gabe. Her last message for him was right after she landed, saying she’d arrived in DC and would call him later. If he wasn’t worried yet, he would be soon.
A knock on the door startled her. She looked up to find Grayson standing in the doorway.
“The kitchen is stocked,” he said gruffly. “Get yourself something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
Claire froze. Did Grayson Matthews always order people around, or was it just her? He seemed completely unable to carry on a pleasant conversation. Normally she’d placate a difficult person like him, do her best to get along, but something about this annoying man stirred up a stubborn resistance within her she didn’t realize she even had.
“Is that in your job description too?” she said, her voice sharper than she’d intended. “First you tell me I have to stay here with you, then you don’t want me to call anyone or get my dog, and now you’re telling me when I need to eat?”
Grayson’s green eyes narrowed, and he stood a little taller as he folded his arms across his chest. “Why is everything an argument with you?”
Determined not to give in, she dug deep for courage. “I could say the same to you.”
He shook his head and turned to head for the stairs. Claire let out a relieved breath as she watched him leave, shocked at herself for being so bold for once in her life, and her gaze dropped to the dirt stains on her slacks.
Guess I’d better settle in. I’m here for a few days, whether I like it or not.
After she’d unpacked her things and changed into a tunic top and leggings, one of the few ultra-casual outfits she’d brought with her, her stomach growled. The last time she’d eaten was breakfast several hours ago, and that meal had been only tea and toast. Her flight back from Florida was short, so lunch hadn’t been served on the plane, and now it was nearly dinnertime. As much as she hated to admit it, Grayson was right. She should eat something.
She left the room and was halfway down the staircase when she heard her name mentioned in Grayson’s deep voice. The stair she halted on creaked as she stopped short.
“. . . and that attitude is ridiculous. Contrary to what she seems to think, we’re not here to cater to her.”
Normally, Claire would have ignored someone speaking ill of her, wanting to avoid an argument. Confrontation always made her stomach clench into painful knots, so she tended to ignore slights and move on.
But something about this rude, arrogant man made her temper flare, and she didn’t wait for Jeremy’s response. Hot with indignation, she hurried down the stairs and marched into the kitchen.
Trying to keep her voice steady, Claire said, “If you have something to say about me, the least you could do is say it to my face.” As Grayson met her gaze, his expression held no trace of regret, which only upset Claire more. “Oh, so now you have nothing to say?”
Heat flushed through her entire body as she moved to a cabinet next to the sink. The hunger she’d been feeling had disappeared—go figure—but she should at least have something to drink. She grabbed a glass and turned on the tap.
As she stared out the window, she took a sip of the tepid liquid and was embarrassed to realize her hands were shaking. Swallowing hard, she forced the water down her throat.
In a low voice, Grayson told Jeremy he’d be in his bedroom.
“Sorry about that,” Jeremy said once Grayson had left the kitchen.
Claire lowered the glass to the counter before turning around. “It’s not your fault.”
“My mother would be pissed that I didn’t step in.”
The comment was so unexpected that Claire smiled.
“Grayson’s not a bad guy, you know. Just intense.”
Claire’s smile faded. “If you say so.”
She raised her glass and took another small sip. It went down easier this time. “Your mother raised a gentleman. She must be proud.”
Jeremy grinned, then gestured toward the stove. “I was about to make some spaghetti. Interested?”
Claire pressed a hand to her stomach. Even though it was still unsettled, she’d try to eat. “Sounds great.” She took a seat on one of the bar stools on the other side of the counter and settled in to watch, determined to make the best of this crazy situation.
“How long do you think I’ll have to stay here?” she asked.
“As long as it takes to be sure you’re safe.”
A comfortable silence filled the kitchen as Jeremy got himself organized, setting out a few vegetables on the counter and then pulling out a cutting board and knife. He pulled a blue baseball cap from his back pocket and turned it around before fitting it on his head.
Glancing up at her, he asked, “Do you cook?”
“I’m a pro at ordering takeout,” she admitted. “So, how do you know you have all the ingredients here?”
“We have people who come in and restock when we know we’ll have a protectee,” Jeremy said as he diced a bell pepper. “They’re pretty good at stocking a nice variety of stuff, and I checked to see what they’d left us while you were upstairs. Want to dice up the onion while I start browning the meat?”
Claire nodded and pulled the cutting board and knife to her side of the counter. She focused on the simple task, willing herself to relax. “Is DC home for you?”
Jeremy opened a package of ground beef and broke it into small pieces into the frying pan he had warming up on the stovetop. “I have an apartment in DC.” The meat sizzled as he turned up the heat and stirred it around. He gestured to his hat and turned his head so she could see the Cubs logo. “But Chicago is my home. My family’s there.”
The knife she was using slowed its work as Claire frowned. Did he mean a wife and kids? Jeremy looked a little young, mid-twenties or so, but it was certainly possible.
When she asked the question, he gave her another grin. “No, I’m not married. I mean my mother and younger brothers.” He picked up the cutting board and scraped the diced peppers and the onions she’d just finished into the frying pan with the meat. “My mom’s single now. She raised my two brothers and me by herself.”
“Three boys. That’s a lot of testosterone in one house.”
Jeremy chuckled. “Tell me about it. She definitely had her hands full.”
Claire watched as he added herbs and tomato sauce to the meat mixture. This was nice, having a friendly conversation with someone, and she wished she had a glass of wine to sip as they chatted. But there was probably another rule about that, and if there wasn’t, she was sure Mr. Bossy Pants Grayson would make one up on the spot just to annoy her.
What would she do if she and Grayson were alone in this house
without a buffer like Jeremy? Pull her hair out, probably.
Or better yet, Grayson’s.
At bedtime, Claire started to pull her silk nightgown over her head and froze. It was low-cut and sexy, an expensive piece of lingerie Gabe had bought for her a few months ago, and seemed entirely inappropriate considering where she was and who she was with.
Naked, she padded to the dresser and pulled out the T-shirt and shorts she’d worn that morning on her run, deciding they’d do for tonight.
Tomorrow, I’ll definitely have to do some laundry was the last thought she had before sleep claimed her.
Chapter Seventeen
Inside the guest bedroom he’d chosen, Grayson stared out the window at the backyard below. Why had he done that? He’d heard Claire on the staircase and should have stopped talking. Instead he’d kept going, knowing she’d hear.
Did he want to hurt her feelings? Maybe. If he kept her pissed off, she wouldn’t be nearly as attractive. He’d never been interested in rich girls before—too high maintenance for him—and he sure as hell didn’t intend to start now. Claire Parker was a protectee, and the daughter of a senator at that. The last thing he needed was Eli chewing him out for inappropriate behavior, especially with a woman who had connections like Claire did.
But the way she’d handled the situation, confronting him head-on like that, was something not many men would do. He had to admit she’d earned a little respect for that ballsy move. Most women were intimidated by his surly demeanor and the badass persona he wore like a suit of armor. His attitude kept people at a distance, which was just fine with him.
For a moment, he considered apologizing but rejected the idea. The thought of going downstairs with his tail between his legs held little appeal.
Besides, he could picture exactly what would happen if he did—Claire would make a snippy comment about his apology, and Jeremy would snicker in agreement. It was almost like he and his partner were playing good cop/bad cop, with Jeremy naturally falling into the good-cop role. No, it was best to just keep his distance from Claire.
Logically, he had a right to be pissed at her; it had been dangerous for them to go back to Claire’s condo. The kidnappers could have been there waiting for her, which could have resulted in someone getting hurt, or worse.
But if the sitter had left the dog there unattended for days while Claire was at the safe house, it wouldn’t have ended well for the poor animal. Grayson had to admit he probably would have done the same thing if he’d been in her position, responsible for a dog who depended on him.
Maybe she was right?
Grayson pushed aside his misgivings and unzipped his duffel to unpack the few days’ clothing he’d brought. The mindless activity helped him organize his thoughts.
His job was to keep Claire safe. Period. It didn’t matter if she liked him or not. They didn’t have to be friends, and they surely weren’t going to be anything more.
But an image of Claire’s angry face in the kitchen downstairs brought a scowl to his own. He shoved the shirt he was holding into a drawer and tugged his phone from his pocket to call Eli and report in.
“I was just about to call you,” Eli said when he answered. “I’m getting a warrant for Rex Gibson’s arrest for criminal conspiracy and attempted kidnapping.”
Grayson frowned. “So fast? My cover will be blown if you do that.”
“We’ve got enough on him between your testimony, what he said in your last meet while you were wired, and the text messages we intercepted. He’s going to wind up with a stiff sentence for this side business of his. Plotting to kidnap the daughter of a senator will keep him off the streets for a good long time.”
“What about the drug ring?” Learning the identity of its leader had been the whole point. “Gibson probably won’t rat anyone out.”
“We’ll have to come at it from another angle.”
Grayson paced the small bedroom, running his hand over his close-cropped hair. “Something else has been bothering me. That call Gibson made to the burner phone. You said he called someone in DC.”
“Right. It pinged off a tower in the city.”
“It couldn’t have been Claire’s boyfriend. He was with her in Florida at the time of the call.”
“Then he must have someone working for him.”
Grayson paused, thinking it through. “Possibly. Rex Gibson may be out of the picture, but he still might have someone in play. Or whoever ordered this kidnapping might hire someone else to finish the job.”
“We’ll keep digging here to see if there’s another way to find the owner of the burner phone,” Eli said. “I’ll let you know what we find.”
Chapter Eighteen
Before breakfast was even over Monday morning, Claire was at her wit’s end. Every time she spoke to Grayson, which was as little as possible, he snapped at her, especially when she asked about communicating with the outside world.
“No phone calls or texts,” he said sharply, putting down his coffee mug, “and no internet.”
When she explained she needed the internet to work on her case, he practically growled at her, reminding her of Charlie after she’d had him fixed . . . broody and pissed off at the world. And thinking of her dog reminded her of how much she missed him, which just made things worse.
Her appetite gone, Claire dropped her fork to her plate and glanced at Jeremy—who was keeping his head down and concentrating on his food, obviously trying to stay out of the argument.
Frowning at Grayson, she said, “What am I going to do all day?”
Grayson shrugged. “Whatever you want. As long as you stay inside, keep away from the windows, and don’t use a phone or the internet.”
Frustrated, Claire pushed her eggs around her plate, dropping her fork when a thought came to her. “Wait, I can’t go on a run?”
His green eyes drilled into her, making her practically shrink in response. “Absolutely not. It’s not safe.” He rolled his eyes at Jeremy before he shoved back from the table and stalked away, muttering under his breath, “Go on a run . . . Unbelievable.”
After breakfast, her first order of business was to make sure she had clean clothes, since most of what she’d taken to Florida was dirty. The limited wardrobe she had with her was geared toward Florida’s warm weather, but she’d make do for the short time she was here. After running a load of the washables she’d brought with her through the safe house’s washer and dryer, she would be all set. The things that needed dry cleaning—like the suit she’d worn on the flight that was now probably ruined from dirt and grass stains—would have to wait.
As the washer did its thing, Claire stood at the balcony door in her room, looking down at the street in front of the house. Tomorrow morning was the next meeting with the prosecutor. What was Chris going to think when she didn’t show up? Probably that she didn’t care enough to be there.
But she did care . . . a lot. She might not be thrilled at the prospect of a career in law, but Chris was counting on her. She couldn’t let him down. Again.
Claire frowned as she turned away from the glass. Yesterday she’d been so thrown off balance by the kidnapping and protective-custody issue, she’d pushed aside all thoughts of tomorrow’s meeting. She’d avoided Grayson as much as she could since breakfast, but it was time to face the dragon.
Grayson had insisted that she couldn’t make any more phone calls, but she still had to get a message through. Hoping Jeremy was on duty, she headed downstairs.
To her dismay, she found Grayson sitting at the kitchen table, tapping away on his laptop. Sunlight filtered in through the sliding doors that led to the patio, bringing out reddish highlights in his dark hair. She approached silently, taking in his unguarded expression as he studied the screen between bursts of typing.
When he wasn’t being a jerk, Grayson was downright sexy, hunched over his laptop in a well-worn short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. As always, he wore a shoulder holster, an ever-present reminder of the seriousn
ess of her situation. His biceps flexed as he punched at the keys, drawing her gaze to his corded forearms resting on the table, covered with a dusting of dark hair. A half-finished cup of coffee sat next to the laptop, and he reached out to pick it up as she approached.
Flustered at the warmth rising to her face, she cleared her throat.
“There’s a project I’ve been working on at the law school,” she said as she walked over. “I need to call my professor and let her know I’ll miss an important meeting tomorrow.”
“Nope,” he said quickly, not bothering to look up from his typing.
“If you’re worried about calling from here, we can go somewhere else.”
“I said no.”
Undaunted, Claire continued. “I could send an email. Maybe from a Starbucks, using their Wi-Fi. I’d only need the connection for a couple of minutes. By the time—”
“Did you not hear me?” Grayson finally lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. That icy green glare was back. “The answer’s no. We’re not going anywhere.”
Claire’s temper rose. Why couldn’t he even attempt to be nice? Why did he have to be so difficult?
“I need to call or email my professor.” Proud of herself for sounding calm yet firm when all she wanted to do was yell at him, she pulled her shoulders back and stood her ground.
Grayson glared at her for several seconds before looking away. “Write down a message. I’ll see what I can do to get it through.” Then, apparently dismissing her, he returned his attention to his laptop, which annoyed her even more.
Her own laptop was upstairs in her room, pretty much useless without an internet connection. Last night, she’d booted it up, hoping one of the neighbors might have an unsecured connection she could piggyback on, but no such luck.
Dismayed, Claire drew in a breath, trying to stay calm. “You’ll see if you can get it through? But this is really important—”
“That’ll have to be good enough.” Frowning, he looked down and resumed typing.
“When will you send it?”
