Authors: Sydney Logan
You have no idea how much you’re stuck with me.
Ethan offers me his hand, and I take a deep breath before he leads me inside.
Dr. Jillian Summers is beautiful, with striking green eyes and long black hair. Dr. Stephen Summers is as handsome as his son. If they’re surprised by my entourage—or my ridiculous disguise—they hide it well. Once we’re inside, I quickly pull the hood off my head and remove my glasses. Ethan takes me by the hand and leads me to his mom’s bedside. Gabe’s huddled in the corner. He gives me a small smile before turning his attention back to his phone.
“Mom and Dad . . . this is Jenna.”
I force a smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
My trembling voice betrays me. Ethan squeezes my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jenna,” Stephen says.
Jillian smiles kindly at me. “You’re just as lovely as Ethan said you were. I hope you’re feeling better?”
“I am. Thank you. How are you, Mrs. Summers?”
“Please call me Jillian,” she says. “I get to go home tomorrow. You can’t imagine how happy that makes me.”
I actually do have some idea. I can’t wait to get back to Tennessee.
“Home is important.”
“It is.” Jillian studies my face for a few seconds before turning her attention to the men gathered around us. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are the bodyguards completely necessary? I’d love to have a few minutes with Jenna. Alone.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Ethan announces firmly.
His parents laugh.
“Of course you should stay,” Jillian says softly. “Your father and I would just like to get to know Jenna without an audience.”
Ethan nods. “Give us a few minutes, guys.”
Gabe, Jason, and Sebastian head out into the hallway. Ethan’s dad pulls another chair closer to the bed, and Ethan and I sit.
“How can you stand all the . . . hovering?” Jillian asks, nodding toward the door.
I grin. I like her so much already.
“It hasn’t been easy. Ethan’s going a little overboard on the security detail these days.”
Everyone laughs, but it’s awkward, because it’s obvious the extra security is needed. She’s living proof of that.
For the next hour, the four of us talk about anything and everything. They want to know all about my hometown of Strawberry Flatts, and they laugh when I tell them my professional life drove my father into early retirement. Eventually, the conversation grows somber, and they once again try to lessen Ethan’s guilt about the accident.
“Perhaps we’re jumping to conclusions,” Stephen says. “Maybe it was simply an accident.”
Ethan and I exchange a glance, and I absent-mindedly place my hand on my stomach. Do I really want this kind of life for my child? Do I want to bring a baby into this world? A world where his or her parents are criminals? What kind of life could we possibly offer a child? We’d always be on the run. Looking over our shoulders. Running to the next job. Running for our lives.
I can’t.
I won’t.
“Jenna?”
I blink rapidly and look down to find Ethan’s hand over mine—my now trembling hand that’s still resting on my stomach.
“Are you feeling ill again?” Jillian asks.
I smile reassuringly. At least I hope I do. The last thing I want is to ruin his time with his parents. He sees them so rarely.
“I’m fine.”
Stephen sighs. “Jenna, surely you understand how concerned we are about your . . . careers.”
“My career has never affected your life,” Ethan says adamantly.
I smile sadly and squeeze his hand. “But it has, Ethan. They worry. My dad worries.”
“But we’re adults.”
“Pretty sure that doesn’t matter.”
Jillian smiles. “You’re right. The fact that you’re both adults doesn’t mean we don’t worry ourselves sick. I think all parents worry in general. It’s in our DNA.”
“But I think it’s safe to assume we worry more than most,” Stephen says. “And for good reason, obviously. Look at how protective you are of Jenna. Hiring all this extra security and having eyes on her around the clock. This isn’t normal, Ethan. This isn’t safe. For any of you.”
“I’ve prayed every night for you to meet someone who could convince you to leave this life behind,” Jillian says, smiling at me. “I have to admit I wasn’t thrilled when I found out he has feelings for someone who is just like him.”
I laugh, because I love her honesty.
“But maybe,” she says, looking between the two of us, “maybe you’re exactly what each other need. Perhaps you can lead each other down a new path. A path where you can protect each other.”
Stephen smiles. “A new path for a new life.”
I once again protectively stroke my stomach.
A new life.
The porch swing creaks. It’s really beginning to grate on my nerves, but Jenna’s dad seems to like the sound. To Hank York, it’s probably comforting, but for a man meeting a father for the first time, it’s pure torture. I think he knows it, too.
“You seem tense, son.”
“I’m fine, sir.”
He chuckles. “You can call me Hank. Now relax. I haven’t shot you yet, have I?”
Yet.
A soft rain begins to fall. We’re definitely deep in the hills of Kentucky. These mountains aren’t like the Smokies, but they’re beautiful, too. No wonder Jenna’s so comfortable at our house in Tennessee.
Our house.
The thought makes me smile.
“It’s risky—the two of you being here. It wasn’t necessary.”
“I know. Jenna wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Hank nods. “I heard about your folks. How are they?”
“Good. Mom’s getting discharged today.”
“And you think this Greek guy is to blame?”
I tell Hank about my heated meeting with Stavros. I try to forget that I’m talking to a retired member of law enforcement. This is Jenna’s dad, and I’m going to need him on my side for what I have planned.
“Where was my daughter during this meeting?”
“I left her back at the house.”
“Oh, I bet she loved that.”
I grin.
“She wasn’t happy with me. But I just couldn’t let her within a mile of that place, especially once we found out he’d beefed up security and gave orders to shoot if anything looked suspicious. He wants to talk to her . . . convince her to come work for him. She wouldn’t, of course, but I refuse to give him the chance.”
Hank regards me carefully. “Don’t think I’m not grateful that you’re protecting my daughter, but Jenna’s been in this business a long time. You don’t think she can handle him?”
“It’s not that . . .” I bow my head as my voice trails off. “I can’t take the chance. He killed our best friends. He tried to kill my parents. I refuse to let him get close to her. I won’t do it.”
A few moments of silence pass before Hank finally nods.
“I understand, Ethan.”
“You do?”
“I do,” he says. “So tell me something. Have you told my daughter you love her?”
I exhale a shaky sigh. I’m apparently completely transparent when it comes to my feelings for her.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Don’t you think you should tell her . . .
before
you run off to Greece without her?”
My head snaps up. His eyes—the same piercing shade of his daughter’s—are looking at me with a mixture of pity and pride.
“That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it? You brought her to me so that you can leave her here and fly off to Greece to kill that man.”
I glance over my shoulder and peer through the window. Jenna’s sitting on the living room couch, watching television.
“That’s the plan, yes. Sebastian’s staying with her, too. I’m hoping between the two of you, maybe she’ll stay safe and out of sight.”
“And how do you suggest I do that? Lock her in her room?”
“Won’t work. You’ve obviously never seen your daughter scale the side of a building.”
Hank laughs.
“I’d leave Gabriel, too, but I need him to fly the plane.”
“We’re gonna need more security. I can contact Shane. He’s the sheriff. Maybe he can spare some officers to patrol 24/7 around the house.”
I sigh with relief. “Hank, I don’t like putting you in danger.”
“You’re not. You’re protecting my very headstrong daughter. Son, I know what she’s like. I wish I could sit here and promise that everything will be okay and she’ll stay put, but I think we both know the minute she finds out you’re gone, I’ll need a rope to keep her tied down. And that’s fine. I have lots of rope.”
I laugh nervously.
Jenna’s going to hate us both.
“What happens after?” Hank asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Once you take care of this guy, are you two off to the next job? Because I won’t lie. I’m sick of worrying about my daughter, and I’m betting your parents feel the same way. If you love my daughter like you say you do, don’t you want something better for her? She won’t listen to me. But maybe the promise of something normal with you could convince her to leave this crazy bullshit behind.”
I try to imagine it. I
have
imagined it. A regular life, with regular jobs. A year ago, I would have immediately dismissed the idea as boring. Repetitive. Monotonous. But now? Boring, repetitive, and monotonous sounds perfect . . . as long as I can be with Jenna.
“That’s all I want, Hank.”
He nods. “I’m glad to hear it. But do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Before you leave? Tell her you love her. She needs to hear it. You know better than anyone that there are no guarantees in this life. You may not get another chance to tell her how you feel.”
I know he’s right. My mission is a dangerous one. If something goes wrong, I don’t want to die with the regret of never telling Jenna York how I feel about her.
“I’ll tell her.”