Page 38 of Hidden
Harry squealed. Actually squealed.
“I think you might have just lost your chance,” Ricardo said, adding something to the milk he was frothing.
Harry sobered. Then grinned. “Nonsense. Sure, they might not express their emotions like I do. But I get the sense they value authenticity, and that was authentically me.”
“That it was,” Ricardo said under his breath as he slid a tall mug in front of Asher.
“What was that?” Ellie asked, walking into the kitchen as she gathered her damp hair into a high ponytail. The motion lifted her shirt enough to reveal a line of bare skin. Right where his hand had been resting not twenty minutes earlier.
“Nothing,” Harry said, grabbing her arm and tugging her out of the kitchen. “We have work to do so that you can get you and that fine man of yours back up to Mystery Lake tonight.”
She cast him a glance over her shoulder. Asher shrugged.
“I’ll bring you something to eat in a few mins,” Ricardo called out after his retreating husband and employer.
Asher sipped his coffee, a little uncomfortable having someone else working right in front of him while he relaxed. He was about to get up and head back to the guest room for a shower and change when Ricardo asked him what he’d like for breakfast. Which made it even weirder. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him breakfast. Sure, he went out to eat. And he joined his family for the occasional brunch. But this was…different.
“You’re weirded out by all this, aren’t you? The fact that she has staff and all?” Ricardo asked, surprising him.
Asher grimaced as Ricardo leaned against the counter. “Maybe a little? It’s not so much the fact that she has staff. I know she needs it. And I know enough about the entertainment business to know that you and Harry must be damn good at what you do. And that you do it because you like it—”
“We are, and we do,” Ricardo confirmed.
“It’s more that I’m not used to being idle. I’m not used to sitting around while someone cooks for me. Not even if it’s your job. Which, as I say that out loud, sounds stupid.” Ricardo arched a brow. “If I’m in surgery with a specialist, I don’t have a problem stepping back and letting him or her do her job,” he continued. “This really isn’t that different—youbeing the specialist in the example in case you didn’t get that somewhat poor analogy.”
Ricardo grinned. “I am the specialist. But to take your analogy a little further, I doubt you’re standing around in surgery and twiddling your thumbs. You’re probably doing all sorts of medical-like things. Monitoring vitals and…well, I don’t know since that’snotmy specialty. It’s the same here. I do this so she can go do other things. I’m good here. She’s good out there.” He gestured with his head toward the city visible below them.
“So she doesn’t usually sit around and watch you work?” Asher asked with a grin, understanding what the chef was telling him.
He tipped his head. “Sometimes she does. If she’s tired or curious about what I’m making. But most of the time, no.”
“I do have work I could be doing,” he said.
Ricardo smiled, a slash of white against his dark skin. “Then go do it. Go save patients or review cases or whatever you do. And I’ll make sure you get fed.”
Asher hesitated then rose. “I hope I didn’t offend you?”
Ricardo waved him off, already pulling things from the fridge. “Logically, what we each do as part of Ellie’s team makes sense. There’s a rhythm and a reason for it. But it’s not the way ninety-nine percent of the world works. It can take some getting used to. Now get out of my kitchen. Go save some kids or something. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”
Asher laughed as he headed back to the guest room. When he reached the door, he glanced toward Ellie’s room. Where her open door caught his attention. He paused. He’d knocked over that plant the night before. He was certain Ellie had a cleaning crew. But he didn’t know when they’d come. In the meantime, the least he could do was pick up the plant and sweep the dirt off the floor. If Ellie hadn’t already.
Entering her room, he set his coffee down on a bookshelf then turned to where he’d stumbled several hours earlier. Ellie must not have made it any farther than her closet and bathroom because the plant still lay on its side. It looked a little uprooted, but there wasn’t as much of a mess as he’d thought.
Grasping the pot and the bottom bunch of stems of what he thought might be bamboo, he lifted it back into an upright position. The plant settled into place and, except for a little less dirt around its roots, looked none the worse for wear.
Switching his focus to the dirt on the floor, he wondered where he might find a broom and dustpan. Asking Ricardo was probably his best bet, but as he started to rise, something caught his attention. Dropping back to his haunches, he shifted a few clumps of soil to the side.
His heart stuttered at what he saw, but his mind raced faster and faster with each passing second. He blinked, hoping he was imagining things. But no, lying in front of him, on the floor, amid the soil, was some sort of device. Some sort of device that had been hidden inside the plant beside Ellie’s bed.
Staring at the small object, he remembered feeling that he and Ellie were being watched the night before. In the light of day, he’d written it off as paranoia. Written it off as nothing more than being in an unfamiliar house and in a stressful situation. But now he had to wonder if he’d been right.
Not wanting to touch the device, he quickly moved into the bathroom to see if she had any gloves. Not finding anything in her cabinets, he strode into the closet where he spied several items of clothing still draped in post-dry-cleaning plastic. Finding a shirt that looked the least likely to suffer without its wrapper, he gently tore the top then slid the plastic off.
Returning to the plant, he dropped to his knees and, using the plastic as a makeshift glove, picked the device up. Touching as little as possible, he turned it over, studying it the best he could. When he found no obvious signs telling him what it was, he considered the idea that maybe it wasn’t as nefarious as he’d assumed. Maybe it was nothing more than something that told Ellie when to water the plant. But as reasonable as that explanation was, he couldn’t bring himself to buy into it.
He did spy a small on/off switch that he promptly switched to Off. If it was a camera or bug of some sort, he wanted to cut off its feed. Then, unable to identify any other distinguishing features, he wrapped it in the plastic, securing it from any additional contamination.
Grabbing his coffee on the way out, he carried the object to his room and set it on top of his bag. Then, picking up his phone, he took a picture and sent a text to Chad.
