Page 29 of Wicked Obsession

“Probably in the Middle East,” he muttered. He understood why Harp had gone to work for them, but Ryder fucking hated Bent Tree andeverything it represented.

“Or some other hot spot,” Rowland agreed, loading his plate and utensils in the dishwasher. “That means we’ll have to wait for the FBI to do their investigation. The only good thing about that shot yesterday was it lit a fire under the feds.”

He grunted. The shot had lit the fire, but the ambassador had stoked it to inferno level. He’d been quietly livid when Ryder had spoken with him, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Canfield had shredded the agents.

“There’s another issue.”

“Fuck.” Ryder pushed his bowl away, grabbed his coffee, and took a gulp before he said, “What now?”

“The kitchen is fully stocked with fresh food—eggs, meats, cheeses, produce—you name it, we have it.”

“How—” Ryder stopped short, his brain engaging an instant after his mouth. “Shit, that means the owners called to ask someone to provision the house for us. We have to assume that every employee knows we’re here.”

“And they would have been asked to stay away until further notice.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t the ambassador tell his friend to keep his mouth shut?” Canfield knew better than this, damn it.

With a shrug, Rowland said, “Maybe becausehe set this up for us before the threat was proven to be legit. Maybe he did tell the owner to be discreet, and the man trusts his household staff enough to disregard the request. Who knows?”

“Yeah,” Ryder said and pushed his mug next to the oatmeal bowl. His stomach was roiling now. “The whys don’t matter, what does matter is that we can’t count on our presence here remaining secret. It only takes one guy making a casual comment in front of the wrong person for the whole thing to go to hell.”

Rowland’s expression remained smooth and his tone was neutral when he said, “The odds are that it won’t cause any trouble.”

“Fuck the odds,” Ryder said fiercely. “This is Langley’s life we’re talking about here.”

“You want to pack up and take off?”

Did he? With the new info would it be smarter to leave? What if the camera had been set up to get them to run? They were at greater risk on the road, and a hotel offered a whole slew of issues, including the fact that they’d be surrounded by unknowns.

“No, we’ll stay. For now. If something else happens, though, we’re out of here.”

Chapter 12

Langley woke slowly, luxuriating in the warmth of the blankets before stretching and opening her eyes. Her contentment disappeared in a heartbeat and she jerked upright, looking around the bedroom, trying to figure out where she was. The furniture, the decor, none of it seemed familiar.

The view of the lake and mountains through the windows brought back yesterday’s conversation in a rush. They were at Uncle Bill and Aunt Kate’s cabin. Her breath escaped in awhoosh, and as the adrenaline receded, her brain dropped out of fight or flight and back into logical thought. The last thing she remembered clearly was stopping for gas in some small town and Finn getting in the back with her while Ryder had a go at driving.

She took another look around the guest suite and saw a few things she’d missed earlier. For one, her suitcase and carry-on bag were sitting in front of the dresser, perfectly aligned. That precision made her lips curve. Ryder normally would have simply dropped the bags, but he knew what a stickler she was for order.

Second, she was dressed only in her panties and one of Ryder’s T-shirts. There was no question who’d done that. She frowned, but he’d been taking care of her, and there was no point in becoming angry over it. And shehadasked him to help her out of the bridesmaid dress on Saturday night, so he had every reason to assume she wouldn’t have an issue with him putting her to bed on Sunday night, either.

Shaking her head, she picked up on important detail number three—someone had shared the other half of the bed last night. Again, she didn’t need to guess who that had been or why. After that shot, Ryder would be sticking to her side pretty closely. The surprise wasn’t that he’d slept beside her, the shock was that he wasn’t hovering right now.

She tossed back the covers and stood. Immediately, Langley winced. Her feet hurt. Not as badly as they had when they’d left San Diego, but enough so she’d be moving gingerly today. That reminded her of her wrists and she checked them.They remained red, but not as brilliant a shade as they’d been and there was no sign of infection.

Her stomach rumbled, ending her contemplation of her injuries. She hadn’t been able to eat when they’d picked up food on their drive north—stress always killed her appetite—but she was starving now. Time to get dressed.

Showered and wearing jeans, her running shoes, and a three-quarter-sleeve, ivory T-shirt with navy stripes, she exited the guest suite and her sense of unfamiliarity continued. Clearly, Aunt Kate and Uncle Bill had redecorated the house completely since her last visit. Either that or her grade-school-age memories of the cabin weren’t accurate. With a shrug, she headed for the stairs. As long as she could find the kitchen and some food, it didn’t matter.

Langley located it on the first try. Ryder was there, hunkered over his coffee, and damn if his brooding expression didn’t make him look even sexier than usual. He’d shaved. Ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat, she headed for the coffee maker and poured a mug.

One sip had her coughing, and Ryder jumped to his feet, striding across the kitchen to where she stood. “Who made this sludge?” she asked, voice hoarse, when she managed to swallow the worst tasting coffee she’d ever had.

The tension left Ryder’s shoulders. “I’d guess Griff. He’s the only one who makes it strong enough to melt your spoon.”

She grabbed the carafe handle. “I hope it doesn’t corrode the pipes.” She went to the sink, poured the toxic waste down the drain, opened the coffee maker, and ditched the grounds before setting it up to brew a fresh pot. She pressed the button and turned, surprised by how near Ryder was. He must have edged closer while her attention was diverted. Langley shifted, getting more distance between them. “What’s for breakfast?”

“If I’m cooking, microwave oatmeal.”

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