“You have an ex-husband?” I felt her eyes move over me as she quickly jumped in to help. “Since when?”

  “Since forever ago.”

  She leaned to the side, peering out the front door. “He’s . . .”

  I didn’t look. “Handsome?” He was still handsome, really handsome. Age hadn’t diminished his beauty. Blue eyes, black hair, mysterious and sexy once upon a time. Now I saw through all that window dressing to the scary sociopath beneath.

  “Yeah,” she breathed out her answer. “He looks like a fairy-tale prince or something.”

  I huffed a humorless laugh. “More like a fairy-tale villain.” Clearly, she hadn’t heard what Declan just said to me.

  Ingrid sent me an apologetic smile as we traded commiserating looks. Her ex-husband—who I’d met just once—wasn’t a bad guy, but I knew their divorce had been messy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But if my ex had looked like that guy, maybe we’d still be married,” she joked.

  I didn’t smile. “He cheated on me and sent me to prison.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and she let out a low whistle, filling three glasses with soda water. “All right then. I retract my statement. If my ex had done that to me, no matter what he looked like, they wouldn’t find the body.” Ingrid bumped my hip with hers. “You’re a better woman than me, Abby. Let me get these to table two and take seven’s order. How long have they been here?”

  I eyed the women at the five-top who were similarly eyeing us. “Just a few minutes, long enough to see the excitement and know they’re getting free drinks.”

  “Gotcha.” Ingrid speed-walked to drop off the gin and tonics and then greeted the three women with their load of shopping bags.

  Meanwhile, I finished making the new round, waiting to do the hot drinks last so they wouldn’t get cold at the pickup station. I alternated between checking the clock on the wall and the watch on my wrist, balling my hands into fists when they started to shake. Adrenaline.

  I breathed through it.

  Walker had been gone for a while and I hadn’t seen the security guys yet. Hopefully Walker had met them outside the bar, they were dealing with Declan, and that’s what was taking my boss so long.

  But still.

  I didn’t like that Walker hadn’t returned yet. I also didn’t like the crazy look in Declan’s eyes earlier. And I most especially didn’t like that he’d said he had nothing to lose. Going back to my apartment tonight didn’t seem like a good idea.

  Withdrawing my phone from my back pocket, I sent Kaylee a quick text asking if I could spend the night at her place after the movie and then proceeded to unnecessarily wipe down the bar as the last of the adrenaline left my system.

  Abruptly tired, I poured myself a cup of coffee and added two packets of sugar and a whole lot of half-and-half. I needed . . . something sweet, the comfort of hot, creamy coffee. When I finally made it back to my apartment—whenever it felt safe to do so—I’d definitely be opening a packet of bacon.

  The bar buzzed with happy conversation as my eyes darted between the tables. Sipping my coffee, I checked the clock on the wall again just as the bell over the door jingled, drawing my attention there. Walker caught my eye and lifted his chin toward the back room, his jaw tight, his eyes worried.

  Setting my mug down, I preceded him to the office and he met me there, his hand coming to my shoulder and giving a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” I wasn’t quite okay, but I was getting there.

  The worry behind his gaze persisted. “I heard some of what he said, the threat, but what did he want?”

  “Money.”

  He angled his head back a scant inch, absorbing this information. “’Cause you’re with Rex now?”

  I nodded.

  “He must’ve seen the story in the paper.”

  I shrugged, not particularly feeling inspired to rehash what had just occurred.

  “Take the rest of the day, Abby.”

  “No.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my apron. “My shift is almost over. I’ll stay until Kaylee and Josephine come get me.”

  “No. Take the day. I already called Rex, he’s on his way.”

  I reared back. “Wait, what?”

  “You don’t need to stay. Ingrid and I—”

  “No, no, no. What did you say?” I shook off his hand. “You called Rex?”

  He lifted an eyebrow at me. “Yeah,” he said, his tone also implying an Of course I did.

  “What? Why? Why did you call him?” My heart ping-ponged in my chest as thoughts took similar chaotic actions in my brain. “And how do you have his number?”

  “His agent called the bar last week and gave it to me.” Walker looked at me like I was crazy. “And I called him because I figured you’d be too shaken up to do it, and if something like this had happened to Ramona, I’d want to know right away.”

  I groaned, turning and pulling my phone out of my back pocket to check my screen. No messages.

  Phew.

  Maybe it’s fine. Maybe Rex told Walker he was on his way just to get him off the phone. Maybe I—

  My phone rang, Rex’s number flashing on the screen. I stifled another groan.

  “Who is it?” Walker asked.

  “Here’s a hint, his name rhymes with hex,” I muttered, swiping my thumb across the screen and bracing myself for . . . whatever. “Hello?”

  “Are you okay?”

  Closing my eyes against the discombobulating flare of warmth caused by the sound of Rex’s voice after a week of nothing—and the obvious concern within his voice—I gritted out, “I am fine. Walker shouldn’t have called you. Sorry.”

  “Did he touch you?” His voice dropped to the deepest baritone, and something about it made the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

  “No. Like I said, I’m fine.”

  “Bernadette booked you a room at the Four Seasons.” Sounds of traffic from Rex’s side of the call made me think he was on a street somewhere, and I checked my watch. He should’ve been at work. “I’ll be there by six.”

  “What?” I shuffled a few steps away from Walker. “No. No you will not be here. It’s Thanksgiving in less than two days, the Richmond game—”

  “She also arranged a car and security for you.” What sounded like a car door slamming shut on his side snuffed out the traffic noise.

  I growled my frustration. “No. You are overreacting. You and Walker are both overreacting.” Truthfully, I didn’t know if they were overreacting. But the last thing I wanted was Rex to fly down here when he had an important game on Thursday. “Everything is—”

  “Be at the hotel when I arrive.”

  “Rex.”

  “Please.”

  I sighed, renewed warmth spiraling within my middle at the gentle, beseeching note of the single word.

  “Please, Abby.”

  Holding my forehead with stiff fingers, I growled again before gracelessly acquiescing. “Fine! Fine, I’ll be there. Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I figured he would end the call now that I’d agreed. He didn’t. I listened to the muffled sounds of traffic and road noise for several long seconds before he said quietly, “I’m really glad you’re okay, babe.”

  His line went dead. I sighed, irritated with myself for the swell of relief and gladness I felt knowing Rex was on his way.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Nothing haunts us like the things we don't say.”

  MITCH ALBOM, HAVE A LITTLE FAITH: A TRUE STORY

  A giant meal and a bottle of wine were waiting for me when I arrived in the suite. Upon seeing the items, and after my security detail did a sweep of the room and left to stand outside my door, I promptly burst into tears.

  I cried for a good long while in the corner of the room, my back against the wall, while hugging a hotel couch pillow to my chest. But past experience had taught me I couldn’t solve much of anything by crying in corners, no matter how essential it felt. I wiped my tears, stood, and strolled over to inspect the now tepid food, determined to set aside the events of the day and eat, at least for a little bit.

  Pulling the room service cart over to the couch, I numbly clicked through the available movies until I saw The Princess Bride, grumbling about the $15.99 fee for the rental, but paying it anyway. Or rather, I guess Rex paid it anyway, seeing as how he’d arranged for the hotel room.

  Spearing a maple glazed carrot that didn’t taste like anything, two giant Neiman Marcus bags sitting on the mattress in the bedroom caught my attention. I walked over but I didn’t look inside, instead reading the note next to the bags.

  Dear Abby,

  * * *

  These should be your size. If you need anything else, just email my team.

  -Bernadette

  * * *

  PS (I hope you are okay!!)

  PPS Be nice to Rex, he’s stressed about the game on Thursday

  It was nice of Rex’s agent to send stuff since all I had were the clothes on my back.

  I hadn’t stopped by my apartment for one very simple and alarming reason. The security detail Rex had arranged did a sweep of my apartment complex’s parking lot before driving over to get me from the Boozy Rancher. Declan had been sitting in a car, parked in the lot, facing my first-floor porch.

  My new security team friends had called the police but suggested I forgo picking up things from my place until morning, just in case he was working with someone and that someone followed me to the hotel. Tiredly, and likely in shock, I’d agreed, deferring to their expertise.

  I’d also sent Kaylee a text to cancel our plans as well as my request to spend the night, giving her a truncated version of the afternoon’s events. She’d called, but I’d sent it to voice mail. I didn’t particularly wish to rehash Declan’s visit again. But I did send another text, reassuring her I was fine.

  Now, instead of watching my favorite movie in the comfort of Josephine’s cozy loft with Kaylee, Jonathan, Nash, et al., I was stuck here, in this palatial suite while I waited for my fake husband to show up and do . . . whatever he planned on doing.

  As Billy Crystal declared Cary Elwes only mostly dead, my attention drifted to the bags on the bed again, just visible through the open door to the bedroom. Curiosity abruptly getting the better of me, I paused the movie and placed my napkin on the coffee table before meandering over to the bedroom. Once there, I peeked inside the bags, my forehead wrinkling.

  They were stuffed.

  Reaching inside, I pulled out shirts and designer jeans and slouchy sweaters in cream and espresso brown, the thick knits soft as a cloud beneath my fingertips. Frowning at the tags announcing that these items were 100% cashmere, I searched for a price tag and found none.

  Hmm. Thorough of them to remove the price.

  Setting aside the sweaters, I dug around the bottom of the bag and lifted several lacy underthings up, beautiful matching bra and panty sets in black, red, and white. These did have the price tags and I nearly choked as I read the first one I encountered. Five hundred and fifty dollars.

  “Holy smokes!”

  Absorbed by my new inspection of the lace—searching for gold and diamonds and bitcoins to justify the cost—I almost didn’t hear the sound of the lock whirring or the door to the suite opening.

  But I did hear the unmistakable sound of Rex’s gruff voice as he called my name, and I did feel the resultant disobedient leap of my heart.

  Turning from the bags and the bed, I crossed to the bedroom door, gulping in air at the sight of his glorious massive form stomping around the room.

  He’s your boss. You are his paid employee. You are not friends. This is a business relationship. Do not cry in front of him.

  I arranged my face into what I hoped was a benign, placid smile. “Hey, husband.”

  Rex’s head whipped toward me. His hazel eyes wide and rimmed with obvious worry, they moved over my form, giving me the sense he was checking me for injury.

  I frowned at his inspection and crossed my arms. “I told you I’m fine. He didn’t—didn’t—” Words fled my brain and I automatically walked backward at his advance, my heart jumping to my throat. Rex didn’t stop until my back hit the wall of the bedroom. He then pulled me forward and wrapped me securely in his arms.

  I bit my lip and slammed my eyes shut—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—my throat working to no purpose. I’m not sure how long we stood there in silence, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, but he eventually pulled away and gently cupped my cheeks with his hands.

  He didn’t say anything, just looked at me and swallowed thickly. Reflexively, I gripped his large wrists and held on, too overwhelmed to do anything but stare at his eyes and the enigmatic intensity there.

  And then he whispered, “Abby.”

  “Rex,” I squeaked in reply.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “Your—he threatened you. You had to deal with him on your own.”

  His words confused me, and I spoke aloud as I tried to untangle them. “He did threaten me, but I wasn’t alone. Walker stepped in. And it’s not your fault.”

  Rex’s mouth formed a stern line, his fingers pushing into and then sifting through my hair. His eyes followed the movements of his hands. “It is.”

  My mouth curved upward ever so slightly. “No. It’s his fault. Not yours, not mine. His.”

  “I should’ve known.” A frown marred his forehead as he continued to contemplate my hair with touch and sight, looping it around his fingers.

  Goodness, what Rex was doing felt nice. Really nice. Relaxing. Comforting. I almost forgot to be confused by his actions. But then I was confused because . . . Wait. What is happening? Why is he touching me like this?

  Gazing at him and holding my breath, I watched his eyes drift from my hair to my lips, his hands returning to cup my jaw and gently tilt my chin up.

  “You’re so . . .” he said, the words unfocused, distracted.

  “What?” I whispered on a controlled exhale.

  Rex’s gaze came to mine, abruptly sharpened, then shuttered. He straightened, removing himself a step, his hands dropping to his sides.

  Bracingly, and while ensconced in the thorny weeds of turmoil, I studied him from my place against the wall.

  “I apologize,” he said, his frown deepening. “I’m—”

  “You must be tired,” I said, wanting to give him an excuse, as though being tired explained away his preoccupation with my hair and storming in here just to back me up against a wall.

  I’ll have to think about all this later, when he’s not so . . . here.

  He gave his head a light shake, still staring at me, something I couldn’t label gathering behind his eyes. But then he blinked, and it was gone, replaced with the cold marble façade I used to study so intently instead of my schoolwork.

  Rex lifted his chin and crossed his arms, backing away another step. “The guards stay,” he said, unmistakable determination behind the dark rasp. He looked every bit the foreboding defensive end who relied on intimidation to get what he wanted.

  Perhaps most people would find his posture and tone menacing, but based on the sudden, pulsing ache low in my stomach, my body did not. But my body was also weird, turning on like a lightbulb in the face of his harshness, considering the fact that I’d just spent an hour crying in the corner while holding a couch pillow.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor to avoid openly ogling him. “I think that would be wise.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I do.” I pushed away from the wall, taking the odd flare of lust with me. Crossing to the bed, I focused on placing the items I’d withdrawn back inside their bags rather than obsess about the feel of Rex’s fingers in my hair, or how his gruffness and bossy attitude really seemed to do it for me.

  “We’ll take them to Richmond.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Rex entered my peripheral vision. I felt his eyes on my profile. “Why are you agreeing so easily?”

  I shrugged. “The team you hired said Declan was waiting for me at my apartment building tonight, and it’s possible he’s working with someone, if he thinks this has the potential to be a big score for him.” Folding the sweaters carefully, I set them gently in the bottom of the bag. “I’m the last person in the world who will underestimate him. He’s . . .”

  “What?”

  “Scary.”

  Rex drifted closer. “He won’t touch you.”

  I didn’t respond, because Declan had touched me today, just not physically. In a way, he’d slapped me when he’d called me stupid, picking at a scar not quite healed.

  I felt Rex’s hesitation before he asked, “Did he? Did he ever . . .?”

  “No.” I glanced at him, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You already asked me that, before Jason and Amy’s wedding.”

  Frowning again, this time in concentration rather than sternness, he said, “I know. But we’re—we know each other better now.”

  “You mean we trust each other more?” Reaching for one of the staggeringly expensive pairs of red underwear, I tossed it in the bag.

  “I hope you trust me more.” Rex’s eyes and his frown followed the movements of my hands. “What is all this?”

  “Bernadette sent me clothes since I was cautioned against stopping by my apartment.” I held up a scrap of black lace and showed him the price tag. “Can you believe this costs over five hundred dollars? I mean, what? Where are the cupholders? Does it come with a condo share in Cabo?”

  The two lines between Rex’s eyebrows deepened, the slant of his mouth angling down. He dropped his eyes to the bed for a split second, then turned and left the bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Leaving the rest of the items, I followed him. “You’re staying?”

  Not looking at me, he nodded.

  I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe, digesting this information. “Then you should take the bed.”

  “No—”

  “I’m short, remember? And you’re a perfectly formed giant.” Turning back to the bedroom, I grabbed the bags from the bed and carried them to the living room. I felt his eyes on me as I moved back to the couch and lifted the cover off my half-eaten dinner.