Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Aylett house felt as cold as a tomb.
Delaney stepped inside and stood in the entry, torn between her desire to run upstairs and escape the man whose presence had her emotions all jumbled and her need for a glass of water to wash down a couple of Tylenol tablets.
Behind her, Noah closed and locked the door, then set the alarm, which beeped quietly.
She couldn’t help replaying that terrifying moment. She’d talked through it twice at the police station, and she’d hoped that would help her process it. But it was still broadcasting in the theater of her mind, everything that happened…and could have happened… replaying in slow motion.
She hadn’t been able to see anything from her spot behind Noah. She’d done her very best to keep him positioned between herself, Charlotte, and that gun. Banking on the fact that the crazy stalker woman wouldn’t shoot him.
Though Lena could have lost her patience. She could have shot Noah. She could have killed him.
That thought had kept Delaney’s stomach roiling for hours.
That he might be dead.
She felt both grateful for Noah and furious with him for putting himself in danger. And for firing her. And for having a stalker, which obviously wasn’t his fault.
There were a million other emotions she didn’t have the energy to name.
One moment, he’d been trying to reason with Lena.
The next, he’d thrown himself on top of Delaney and Charlotte, sheltering them with his body.
She’d hear that gunshot for the rest of her life.
And Noah’s strangled cry. “Jaz!” After Delaney and Charlotte were down, he’d scrambled to his feet and hurried to disarm the woman. He’d held her down, his yells frantic. “Are you hit? Are you all right?”
She could still hear the terror in his voice.
But the man who’d tackled Lena stood, unharmed. Thank God.
It could have turned out so much worse.
Delaney had shuffled Charlotte away from the chaos. They’d sat on the curb, and she’d held the terrified little girl until the police arrived.
Now she knew that the man who’d tackled the crazy stalker was Noah’s brother, Charlotte’s father.
She’d gotten a good look at Jasper, with his striking blond hair and intense gray eyes.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected after hearing Noah’s description of his brother, but the man who’d saved them seemed like so much more than the “wastrel” Noah had made him out to be.
He was as well-built as his brother, with a strong jawline and broad shoulders.
Charlotte’s father, who’d abandoned his daughter to party. Who’d also risked his life.
Jasper Aylett was a mystery.
Which was a distraction from the fact that someone had tried to murder her.
It was crazy.
The whole thing was completely crazy.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Noah’s slight touch on her elbow had her coming back to herself. She was still standing in the entry, staring at nothing. She shook off her stupor.
“Should I check on Charlotte?”
“She’s asleep. Jasper texted a few minutes ago.” Noah’s voice was low in keeping with the house’s stillness. “He stayed with her until she drifted off.”
Jasper had given his statement first, then brought Charlotte home to put her to bed. Noah and Delaney had been questioned a little longer before getting a ride back from the police station.
Noah stepped in front of her and studied her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. His eyes were dark with something she couldn’t quite read.
“I’m sorry about that.” He nodded to her hand, which was pressed against her sternum. It had been better, but being tackled had brought the pain back.
“I’m okay.”
But when he mentioned it, she felt the pain again.
She needed Tylenol. She walked toward the kitchen, where she grabbed a glass, added ice and water, then shook two tablets into her hand and swallowed them.
All while trying to ignore the man standing on the other side of the peninsula, watching her.
“Why would you do that?” he asked. “Why would you put yourself between Charlotte and a gun?”
Of all the questions. “I’m her caretaker.” She set down her glass, the sound too loud on the granite countertop. “It’s my job to keep her safe.”
“Most people’s definition of that doesn’t include using their body as a shield.” His gaze bore into hers as if he were searching for something. “Her previous nanny would have tossed Charlotte toward Lena and dived out of the way.”
The words surprised a chuckle out of Delaney that sent pain through her chest. “We’ve already established that she wasn’t very good at her job.”
Noah’s gaze remained intense. “You could have died tonight.”
As if she needed the reminder. “You were the one with the gun aimed at you.”
“It’s different. Charlotte’s my niece. She’s no relation to you. Most people’s instinct is self-preservation.”
Was it? When Delaney had seen the gun, her body had moved before her mind could catch up.
She wasn’t sure how to explain and didn’t think it needed explanation. “Most people’s instinct is to protect the innocent.”
“Only truly heroic people.”
His kindness threatened to dissolve her anger. She looked away from the intensity in his eyes. Danger lurked there.
Focusing on the kitchen wall, she was able to come up with a coherent answer.
“When I was eight,” she said slowly, “my family was in DC to visit my dad.”
“Didn’t he live with you?”
“His mail was delivered to our house. But did he live there? Did he truly dwell with us? No.”
“Oh. That’s…” Noah seemed unsure how to finish his sentence.
“We were going to a show, but we had a little time before it started, so we stopped at this shop. It was a beautiful day—one of those perfect summer days when the sky is so blue it hurts to look at it.” The memory washed over her, still vivid after all these years.
Noah leaned against the table behind him, his expression softening.
“Dad stayed at the store’s entrance. My older sisters wanted to look at something, so Mom asked me to stay with Kenzie.
She was five, so she and I looked at toys in the back of the store.
When I saw my mom and sisters headed for the cashier, Kenzie and I followed.
We were close when I told her to go to Mom. ”
Delaney could still picture it. Mom had been no more than six feet away. Delaney had pointed to her and her other sisters, and Kenzie had headed in their direction.
Or so she’d assumed. But she hadn’t made sure.
Delaney’s throat tightened. “I just wanted to look at the hair ties. Then they called me and said it was time to go. I ran after them, and we all walked away. We’d been walking for ten minutes when I realized Kenzie wasn’t with us.”
She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar wave of guilt. “She hadn’t gone to Mom. She’d wandered off. I told my parents, and we turned back to the store. My father just… He sprinted. I’d never seen him run like that.”
Tears filled her eyes, a result of bone-deep fatigue and lifelong disappointment in herself.
Those were the longest minutes of her life. She’d never been more afraid.
“What happened?” Noah’s voice was gentle.
“Dad found Kenzie in the store, hiding in the middle of a round rack of sweatshirts. By the time we got there, he’d coaxed her out and was holding her tightly.”
He’d been sweet to Kenzie, but when he’d caught sight of Delaney, his eyes had hardened. He was furious.
“You said you were eight?” Noah asked.
“Yeah.”
“Obviously, nobody blamed you.”
“Dad did. When he saw me, he just…he lost it. He lectured me on every single thing that could’ve happened to her, right there in the store in front of everybody.”
Noah pushed off the counter. “That’s just…ridiculous.”
“I was supposed to watch her.”
“Yeah, but…” He took a breath, then studied Delaney for a long moment. “Have you ever nannied for an eight-year-old?”
She thought about it, then shrugged. “That boy down the beach was seven.”
“If you’d put that boy in charge of his little brother and something had happened, would you have blamed him?”
“I would have blamed myself.” As she said the words, she realized Noah’s point. “But Kenzie was my responsibility.”
Noah shook his head. “She was your parents’ responsibility.”
Delaney felt something shift inside, like a weight she’d carried for twenty years suddenly loosening. “But I was supposed to—”
“You were supposed to be a kid. An eight-year-old kid who wanted to look at hair ties.” Noah’s voice was both firm and gentle. “Your father shouldn’t have put that on you.”
Maybe.
But Dad had started in on Delaney, listing all the terrible things that could’ve happened. “She could’ve been kidnapped. She could’ve been sold to the highest bidder. She could’ve been murdered!”
“Gavin, stop.” Mom had pressed her hand to his shoulder. Delaney could still hear her voice.
“Calm down. Everyone’s safe. It was our fault.”
Their fault?
“We should have checked to make sure Kenzie was with us. It was our job.”
Seeing the situation again in her mind’s eye, Delaney realized Dad hadn’t been angry. He’d been scared. “As a CIA agent,” she said, the idea forming as she voiced it, “he knew every terrible scenario that could play out. I think…I think he was just overwhelmed at what could have happened.”
“Maybe.” But Noah clearly wasn’t mollified. “He should have known better than to terrorize his eight-year-old daughter with those scenarios.”
She’d never thought of it that way. She’d always accepted that her father’s reaction was justified, that she’d deserved his anger.
“You had the right to shop, Delaney.” Noah stepped around the peninsula toward her. “At eight years old, at eighteen, at twenty-eight—you have the right to pursue your own interests, to want things for yourself.”
He moved closer. The words he spoke, the idea behind them, felt foreign, almost dangerous. Her whole life had been built around the belief that other people’s needs came first, that her own desires were selfish.
It was as if he were speaking a language she didn’t understand. “That doesn’t feel true.”