Chapter 4
Their penthouse was in absolute chaos. Standing by the brewing coffee pot in the kitchen, Eva watched with bleary eyes as the dozen or so NYPD officers and technicians set up shop in her dining room.
On the dining table, the threatening notes she and Gideon had received—macabre rewrites of children’s songs—were being photographed, bagged, and logged.
It hurt her heart that Gideon had chosen to carry the weight of such things without her.
While she understood that he felt protecting her from harm included shielding her from the emotional blow of seeing Glasgow smiles cut into their photographs, Eva hated that it also meant he was operating without her support.
Turning her head, she looked for the man who was everything to her and found him standing on the terrace with their beagle, Lucky, in his arms. Gideon had removed his jacket and bowtie and was soothing the dog, who’d been barking and baying at all the commotion and strange people invading his space.
Lucky was reciprocating the comfort to his favorite person with tongue laps to the jaw. Eva knew her husband needed it. To the law enforcement professionals in their home, perhaps Gideon might seem too contained, but she knew him well. He was holding himself together by a thread.
“You’re not drinking a cup of that,” her father ordered, joining her at the counter. He’d showered in her guestroom, then changed into some of the clothes he kept in the closet—sweatpants and a faded “SDSU Dad” T-shirt. “And you’re not pouring a cup for Gideon, either.”
“No,” she agreed, yawning. “I was just setting everything out on the counter for self-service but figured I might as well start the first pot while I’m at it. My plan is to drag my husband into the shower, then tuck him into bed and make sure he stays there as long as possible.”
Which would be precious few hours considering the press conference scheduled for eight o’clock.
Her father pulled her into a firm, warm hug. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”
Eva snuggled into his embrace. In his arms had always felt like the safest place in the world, and she appreciated that feeling of security more than ever. The fragrance of freshly brewed coffee triggered a surreal sensation of normalcy in a world that felt as distorted as a funhouse mirror.
She and Gideon were running on fumes. They’d taken off to their beach house for a few days of rest and reconnection before the masquerade because they’d restarted talking about enlarging their family and discovered underlying tension picking through that topic.
Then danger had followed them to their private hideaway.
A deeply disturbing letter had been attached to a crossbow bolt shot into the weathered gray shingles while they were in bed.
The lack of adequate sleep over the past few days was catching up to them, and they’d need to be at their sharpest mentally to get Ireland home safe.
“You should go home and get some rest, too,” Eva murmured.
“I’m staying here for the time being.”
Pulling back to look up at him, she felt such worshipful adoration for the father who loved her too much. Victor Reyes was the kind of man who gave his whole heart to one woman in a lifetime, and that woman had been her mother. “I’m sure Shelley would like to have you home.”
He gave her a wry look. “Just because she’s not assigned to the case doesn’t mean she’s not going to help. Whether that’s making coffee, like you are, or throwing out takeout boxes, she’ll be busy, too.”
Eva felt the sting of tears and tried to blink them away. “Thank you both so much.”
“Looking after you so you can look after Gideon…? You never have to thank me for that. I’m grateful every day that you married a man who makes it possible for me to be a part of your daily life.”
She felt the same. It had been a little rough between the two men in the beginning, before her father fully understood that he and Gideon were fully aligned in their protectiveness of her.
Despite their very different upbringings, they were intrinsically more alike than not and eventually established a relationship she knew was valued by both.
“I’m really worried about him,” she confessed. “Protecting the people he cares about is vital to Gideon. It’s his love language—I think you probably understand that better than most, because you two are similar in that way.”
“It’s one of many reasons I admire him,” her father said quietly, his gray eyes the color of a raincloud.
“I know he’s blaming himself for this.” Eva was keenly aware of the icy knot in the center of her chest. “Ireland is so very important to him. Gideon is fearless in many ways, but he’s terrified of messing up with her.
It’s always been kind of funny to watch him figure his way around her, and now… What they’re both going through is...”
“Sweetheart.” He pulled her close again and rested his chin on the crown of her head. “Even if this is directed toward him, it’s not his fault. Right now, it feels like we’re doing nothing but waiting, and that’s hard. Too much time to think.”
“Yes. I can’t stop…” She closed her eyes and saw the mutilated photos of her and Gideon in her mind. “I’m just praying this isn’t personal. If it’s solely about money, they have no reason to hurt her and every reason to keep her alive.”
Her father stepped back. “You’re worrying about too many things, baby. Focus on you and Gideon getting some rest.”
When she realized she was chewing on her lower lip, she stopped. “Is it a bad sign that the abductors haven’t called yet?”
“No, it’s typical. Immediate contact is rare.” He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter behind him. “Most likely it’ll happen somewhere between twenty-four and thirty-six hours later. They’ll want to get somewhere they feel safe first.”
“God, that’s forever.” Her heart sank. “Gideon will go insane if we have to wait days to even start talking about what they want.”
He shook his head. “That’s all the more reason to get as much sleep as possible. And keep in mind, they may not contact Gideon. They may reach out to Chris or Elizabeth instead. The police are prepared if so.”
“Oh…” She hadn’t considered that and wondered if Gideon had.
The clearing of a throat made them both look up to find a brunette in an NYPD polo shirt. “Hey, you two,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Hi,” Eva greeted her. “There’s fresh coffee.”
The woman’s face lit up. “I smelled that. Mind if I get a cup?”
“It’s all yours.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Eva looked at her dad. “All right, I’m done. You’re going to bed, too?”
He gave her a brisk nod. “Just as soon as you do. So, hurry up.”
“Okay, okay.” She left the kitchen and walked over to the French doors that opened to the wraparound terrace.
As she stepped into the warm, humid air, Eva took a moment for a deep breath.
The trumpet honeysuckle winding around the pergola over their outdoor dining table was in late-summer rebloom, and the glass terrace railing was lined with colorful glazed pots spilling over with flowers.
The caress of the fragrant breeze across her skin distracted her from her spiraling thoughts.
As she came up beside Gideon, she ran her hand down his back, then gave Lucky a kiss atop his velvety head.
The beagle’s returning lick left a wet trail on her cheek that quickly cooled in the early morning air.
Central Park stretched alongside their Upper East Side penthouse, a rectangular void in the midst of the sparkling city.
Its transverse roads wound like glowing snakes through the darkness, while its reservoir glittered with shimmering reflected light.
Turning away from the view, she faced her husband. He was backlit by the bright lights inside, a tall and tormented shadow rendered in black and white against the deep wood tones, jeweled antique rugs, and gilded décor of their penthouse. Tears glistened in his eyes like the water below them.
She held out her hand to him. “Come on. Let’s rinse off the day and crawl into bed. We have a battle to fight, and we can’t do it in this state.”
“I can’t be groggy when they call.”
“You won’t be,” she promised. “You’ve always run on less sleep than the rest of us mortals. And when something’s important, your laser focus kicks in. That won’t fail you now.”
The look he gave her conveyed so many emotions at once. “I should sleep in the guestroom.”
Her brows went up. “So you can pretend to go to sleep? I don’t think so, ace.”
“So I don’t do something in my sleep that we’ll both regret,” he countered flatly.
“Oh…” It didn’t seem possible that she could hurt worse, but she was discovering new depths of pain. “Gideon…you haven’t had an episode in years. Even when we’ve had some rough nights, they haven’t retriggered your parasomnia.”
“I’m more tired now. Less in control.”
She sighed, then stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him and Lucky both.
Atypical sexual parasomnia was the clinical term their therapist used to describe the night terrors that once wreaked havoc with Gideon’s sleep, making it physically dangerous at times to sleep beside him.
Years of individual and couples counseling had helped them both to address the trauma from his childhood—a trauma she shared but coped with differently—and to lessen its effect on their lives.
“My dad said it’s the waiting that makes us overthink.
” Eva cupped his cheek. The early morning breeze brushed the silky strands of his black hair across the back of her hand.
Fancifully, it felt as if he were reaching out to her in the only way he’d allow himself to.
“Lucky will wake you up if you need it, or I will. And as much as this situation feels outside of your control, you’ve gained control over yourself. I trust you, even if you don’t.”
Turning his head, he pressed a kiss into her palm. “You’ve always been overly optimistic about me.”