Page 10 of Protecting You

She looked around as if the intruders might’ve left a cassette recorder in plain sight.

He inhaled a deepbreath for patience and blew it out, then reached toward her. When her eyes widened like it was Callan she feared, he let his hand drop. “You’re not safe here.”

She seemed to be taking in the magnitude of what had happened.

“For all we know,” he said, “they’re gathering troops and preparing to return. Please, trust me.”

She blinked and stared for seconds that felt like hours.

Then she swiveled and marched into her bedroom.

He stood on the threshold while she pulled a small suitcase from her closet. The intruders either hadn’t had time to search this room or had been certain whatever they sought would be in the office.

She opened it on her bed, then looked at him. “How long do you think?”

“Grab clothes for a few days. Jeans, sweaters. You should bring some business attire, just in case.”

“I know how to pack.” But there was no vinegar in her tone.

“Sometimes, it’s hard to think these things through.”

She didn’t say anything as she pulled items from her closet and bureau and put them in the bag.

When she paused, seeming confused, he said, “Toiletries, hairbrush.”

She slipped past him into the bathroom and returned with a fancy, feminine Dopp kit or makeup bag or whatever women called those things.

“Undergarments. Pajamas.”

She grabbed the items as he listed them.

“Leisure stuff—sweatpants, sweatshirts. You should change your shoes.”

She chose a pair of sneakers, tossing her heels into the suitcase. By the time she added everything she needed, her suitcase was nearly full.

She paused as if waiting for more instructions. A look crossed her face that he’d never seen on his tough-as-nails rival. Vulnerability.

She blinked, and her expression shuttered.

“You have your laptop, right?” He nodded to where she’d dropped her purse on the nightstand. “In your bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Charger? Planner? Tablet?”

“Oh.” She slipped past him and into the office, where she yanked a cord from an outlet. While she wound it in her hands, she scanned the space, then toed things on the floor aside. “My iPad’s…”

“Probably stolen.”

“And my planner.”

“I’m sorry.” He itched to pull her close to offer comfort, but stayed planted where he was. “Can you think of anything else?”

She shook her head.

“You won’t be back until…until we know what this was about.”

Again, he waited for her to argue. Again, she seemed to consider it. “Where are we going?”

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