Chapter 4 #2
His chest tightened at the solid weight of his cousin’s promise, and he couldn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice came out gruff, “Thanks.”
“You heard anything about the scumbag’s whereabouts yet?”
Nick cleared his throat. “Not yet, but I intend to throw everything I have at it.”
“We cut down a good chunk of his army. That should slow him down a bit.”
“Hmm.” He felt a modicum of satisfaction for that. He’d be lying if he said he was sorry Mwana’s men had met a hellish end. As for the rebel leader, he’d instructed John Allen to find him, at all costs.
No one got away with threatening what belonged to him.
“Something else on your mind?”
“The intel we gathered indicates the bastard targeted Belle— it wasn’t an opportunistic grab.”
“You think he knew she was your wife?” Alex knew him well, a little too well at times.
The Andreakos wealth meant he and his family were always targets for unscrupulous individuals. What sent alarming tingles down his spine was the piece of info Allen had revealed—the separate sleeping area, suspected to be Mwana’s—where they’d found several pictures of Belle.
“Yes, I think Belle was the sole target, with the other captives taken as collateral.” His fists tightened. “Those men were highly trained. They meant business, Alex. She could’ve been killed.” Anger and residual terror at what could’ve happened coiled in his gut.
“But she wasn’t. And we’ll find this guy and make him pay.
Whatever it takes. For now, you have to reflect on the positives.” He sighed. “Yeah.”
Belle was safe and back where she belonged. He could only be thankful he’d gotten to her—to all of them—in time.
He ended the call and walked to the double French doors. The view from this room never ceased to work its magic on him. The sloping garden planted with plumbago, and sweet-smelling jasmine led down stone steps to pristine white sands lapped by the sea. The blend of greens and blues made the outdoors almost an extension of the room.
From here, he could hear the waves washing onto the shore. The gentle undulation of the sea soothed his chaotic thoughts, as it always did, and shucking off his shoes, he walked barefoot down across the terrace and onto the grass. He breathed in the cleansing air, but his tension didn’t ease.
Belle was back in his life, but it seemed they were farther apart than ever.
Belle entered the kitchen a few minutes shy of seven, irresistibly drawn to the delicious aroma of moussaka . Rays from the setting sun slanted through the partly painted glass windows, throwing gorgeous coloured patterns on the walls.
She’d hardly touched the light snack she’d been served on the plane, but now her stomach reminded her of its lack of nourishment. It growled in anticipation and remembrance of Demetra’s specialty. As she entered the large, homey kitchen, she squashed the small voice in her mind that hinted she was trying to avoid Nick for as long as possible by staying away from the living room. But she didn’t deny the fact that she’d spent more time than necessary in the shower, revelling in the feel of being washed clean.
Of course, being alone had also meant reliving the hellish events of the past few days. How had Charles Mwana reacted to the loss of his quarry? She’d seen the look in his eyes during their
last conversation. The rabid fascination…the hunger…
No . She refused to think about that…
Pulling in a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she summoned a smile when Demetra looked up.
“ Kalispera, Kyria Andreakos.”
“Good evening,” she responded to the lyrical greeting.
“Sit, sit.” Demetra indicated a chair at the large, aged pine table in the middle of the vast space. Belle sat, grateful to get off of her torn and blistered feet and accepted the glass of chilled homemade lemonade the woman set in front of her.
“ Efkharisto ,” she thanked her and sipped the drink gratefully.
“ Moussaka , your favourite, yes?” Demetra prompted in her broken English.
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. It smells lovely.” She rubbed her stomach for emphasis and earned herself a beaming smile.
When Demetra’s gaze shifted beyond Belle’s shoulder, she didn’t need to be told Nick had entered the room. The hairs on her neck had risen in full alert. She sucked in a tremulous breath as he drew near, her senses reacting to his masculine scent. Her pulse leapt as she felt his warmth against her back.
“Not as lovely as you smell.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, his touch causing her senses to spin. “Although I expected you to sleep longer. Why didn’t you ring down for me to come and get you?”
She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t when it only further imprinted the heat of his hands on her naked skin. She’d found the clothes she’d worn during her honeymoon in the exact place she’d left them—why Nick had kept them she had no idea—and the mohair-lined slippers Demetra had supplied cradled her lacerated feet perfectly. “As you can see, there was no need. I’m quite capable of dressing myself and walking on my own two feet.”
“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t put too much stress on your injuries. Some of those cuts are quite deep,” he said imperiously.
“Sure, I’ll bear that in mind.”
If he heard the flippancy in her tone, he chose to ignore it.
“Did you sleep well?” He leaned close, his breath caressing her ear.
She tried to hide her shiver. “Yes, I did, thank you.” She cleared her throat, eager to dispel the lump lodged there, and moved away from him on the pretext of sipping of her drink. His hands slid off her shoulders, but he didn’t leave her side. Instead, he came around to stand in front of her. One finger tilted her chin to inspect her face, as if he were verifying for himself that she had indeed slept well.
For a brief moment, she wished she’d at least put on some lip gloss, maybe a stroke of mascara. Then she pushed the thought away. What did it matter what she looked like? He’d never seen her as more than a possession to be owned and controlled—and forgotten when she’d dared to challenge him.
“No jet lag?”
“I think I’m too grateful to be in one piece to worry about jet lag.”
His eyes darkened before his lids swept down to veil his expression.
Belle took the opportunity to conduct a survey of her own. He’d also taken a shower at some point; his damp hair curled at his nape. He’d changed into dark blue chinos, which sat low on his hips and clung to powerful thighs. The top buttons of his white short-sleeved shirt were open, revealing the golden column of his throat and a whirl of dark hair just below.
Her gaze reluctantly came back to his as he glanced back up. That was when she saw the apprehension lurking in his eyes. It was faint, buried beneath the usual self-assuredness he wore like a second skin, but Belle still saw it.
“What’s wrong?”
“You mean besides the fear that if you continue to glare at me like that I’ll turn to stone?”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Nick. Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” When her lips pursed, he shrugged. “I’ve spent the last couple of hours on the phone to the office putting out a few fires I’d rather not be handling. I’m a little on edge. Then I walk in here to find you’ve come down without calling for me to come get you. The thought of you injuring yourself further doesn’t make me happy. I think we need to talk about that. As well as a few other things.”
He turned and addressed Demetra in Greek. Belle watched in dismay as the woman smiled, nodded enthusiastically, and waved them off.
“Dinner won’t be ready for another half hour, so we’re at loose ends until then,” Nick translated. “How about the living room?”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m perfectly fine here. I’m happy to keep Demetra company and give her a hand, so I’ll see you in half an hour.”
“I think Demetra would prefer not to feel she has to entertain you while she’s preparing our meal. Also, I need to attend to your feet before dinner. The antiseptic cream I applied on the plane would’ve washed off with your shower. You don’t want to risk infection.”
Faced with the neat counterattack, she had no response. About to stand, she gasped as Nick swept her into his arms. She curled one hand over his bicep to keep her balance and silently withstood Demetra’s approving gaze as he carried her out of the kitchen.
“Damn it, Nick, put me down,” she demanded as soon as they reached the hallway. “I’m not some rag doll you can sweep up and set down every time you feel the urge.”
His jaw clenched, and a nerve ticked in his temple. “You are in no condition to walk around on those feet. If I didn’t think you’d kick up an unholy stink, I’d get you a damn wheelchair.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would, but I kinda like this option better, so you’ll have to put up with me carrying you around.”
The thought that he would do so whenever he felt like it caused her breath to fracture. “That’s ridiculous, not to mention overbearing.”
He ignored her outburst as his accusing eyes raked her face. “You lied when you said you were fine to walk through the jungle.
Why?”
She flushed, dropping her hand when she felt his muscles bunch under her fingers. “I didn’t want to hold everyone up.”
He bit out a sharp curse and hefted her closer. “I could’ve carried you and covered the same ground in faster time.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“Because of your pride or because you no longer deem me worthy of carrying you?”
She raised her chin. “Both.”
He stopped in the doorway to the living room and stared down at her. “We will discuss the highly stimulating topic of your leaving when you’re better recovered. And rest assured, it’s a conversation I intend to thoroughly exhaust.”
“Why? You didn’t care when I walked away.”
His eyes narrowed. “Trust me, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
Shock floored her for a moment. “What do you mean, I couldn’t be more wrong? The evidence speaks for itself. You haven’t so much as called in six months.”
“Because what’s ailing our marriage needs more than a phone call. I think we can both agree on that.”
He moved from the doorway, and the warmth of his body penetrated hers, throwing her fractured thoughts into further disarray. She sucked in a desperate breath, casting her eyes around the room to distract the dragging sensation in her abdomen.
Decorated with simple comfort in mind, the room was spacious, with plump white sofas that gave it a refreshing serenity. Assorted dyed cushions lent splashes of colour to the airy space. It was her favourite room in the villa. She’d spent a lot of time in here during their honeymoon, just reading or watching her favourite programs on the large screen with Nick. That was, when they weren’t swimming in the sea, lounging by the pool, or in bed.
The last thought flushed her face and body with even more desire. She jerked away as he lowered her onto the sofa, anxious to hide her body’s insane reaction from him. Unfortunately, her effort caused her to bump her shin on the low table, and she couldn’t stop her gasp of pain.
“Are you all right?” Nick steadied her, concern etched on his face.
“Yes, just a little clumsy.” She leaned down and rubbed the spot in an effort to shield her face from him.
He straightened after arranging cushions under her feet. “I’ll be right back with the cream. Try not to tango with any more solid objects while I’m gone.” She heard the smile in his voice but didn’t look up, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard him leave the room.
Her respite didn’t last. He was back within minutes, carrying her chilled lemonade in one hand and the antiseptic cream in the other. He perched on the table in front of her and placed a gentle hand on her ankle. When he lifted her foot onto his lap, what breath she’d barely retained left her lungs. Her gaze flew to his, but he was intent on squeezing the medicine from the tube.
“This might feel a little cold.” He looked up, and his grey eyes collided with hers. Her mouth went dry, and words deserted her.
She nodded but was nevertheless unprepared for the touch of his hands. The first time he’d applied it on the plane, she’d been battle-exhausted and barely conscious. Now, wide awake, she looked into eyes that still had the power to render her senseless.
The chilled cream raised goose bumps on her skin in direct contrast to the warmth of his touch that sent such raw excitement zinging through her veins. In response, her nipples peaked wantonly beneath her dress.
He frowned at her sucked-in breath.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” His eyes held concern.
She bit her lip and fought to hide her reaction. “No, it doesn’t hurt, but you were right, it was a little bit cool.” Let him think it was the antiseptic that had made her gasp, not the feel of his warm hands against her flesh. She looked down at his long, tapered fingers moving against her instep in a smooth massage. He took his time, rubbed firmly but gently until the balm was absorbed.
Then he started on the other foot.
She stifled a moan as molten sensation oozed through her and settled low in her pelvis. Her nipples tightened further, and she wished she’d worn a bra under her white sundress. The last thing she wanted was for Nick to guess her state of near-mindless excitement. But it was no use.
Starved of his touch, her body unfurled like a petal to a new day, flowering in readiness for his possession. She could already feel the telltale moistening between her legs and surreptitiously squeezed her thighs together, eager to curb the hot arrows of need shooting into her sex. His thumb brushed against the arch of her foot, and she bit back a groan. She’d beg him to glide his hands higher if he didn’t stop soon.
Think of something else, something to kill this feeling stone cold .
For once her mind obliged, although she could’ve done without the mental image it displayed.
Like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face, the image of her husband, implacable, callously daring her to leave him, denying her the one thing she yearned for, rose in her mind. Sickening pain replaced rampant lust. She jerked her foot away from where it rested on his taut thigh and folded it next to the other on the sofa.
Nick looked up in surprise at her abrupt withdrawal, his eyes darkening with incomprehension.
“Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”
She bit back the bitter laughter that rose in her throat. “Would
you care to specify which hurt you’re talking about, Nick? I have quite a selection to choose from.”
“Tinkerbelle, we need to talk about this but not now?—”
“Please don’t call me that.”
He recaptured her foot and continued the massage, his touch even gentler. “Why not? It’s your name, and you love it when I call you that.” His sensual mouth curved with the tiniest smile.
“No, you only believe I do. I think somewhere in that brain of yours, you harbour a fairy fantasy.”
His smile widened a touch. “I suggest we not discuss the subject of my fantasies and how you feature in them. You’re probably not well enough to cope with that…yet.”
“Yet? Try never. I’m a schoolteacher, Nick, not one of the actresses or trust fund babies you used to date. They may have obliged you with those…those…” She stopped when she felt heat flood her cheeks. How the hell had they even strayed onto this subject? “Whatever, you’re never going to be obliged by me!” Belle stopped and clamped her mouth shut. He’d always had this effect on her, had made her feel insecure and off-balance.
“You need to calm down, baby.”
“And you need to stop with the caring husband act. You’ve done the absentee husband thing quite successfully. Maybe it’s time we consider making it permanent?”
The fingers cupping her heel tightened a touch. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The hand she raised to her spinning head was decidedly shaky. “I’ve had a long time to think these past months. I…I think we were a little na?ve to think we would ever make a relationship between us work. For a start, our backgrounds are just too different?—”
“I don’t know where this is all coming from, but you need to stop talking now.”
“Why should I? I freely admit that I was a little foolish to think someone like me would be enough for someone like you. Did you see your friends’ faces the first time you introduced me to them?”
“I don’t give a fuck what my friends think. And neither should you. Besides, you’re the daughter of an Earl. Anyone who wants to dwell on status can suck on that.”
“I don’t care about status, but maybe you should. If we’d stopped to think for a moment about what we want out of this?—”
“What, you’d have agreed to a hot and sweet session between the sheets and then gone on your merry way?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“And what makes you think I’d have let you? You belong to me, Belle. You always will.”
Sadness welled inside her. “You know, there was a time when hearing you say that would’ve made me the happiest woman in the world.” The time before she realized he used words like that just to control her, to keep her the malleable creature he wanted her to be, and not because he actually loved her.
A bleak look fleeted through his eyes before he ruthlessly and efficiently veiled it.
“You seem to have developed a serious knack for bad timing. But there’s no way I’m having this conversation with you while you’re covered in bruises from surviving being kidnapped by a fucking despot.”
“I’m not some frail waif, Nick.”
“I know you’re not. But we never could have a lively discussion without it concluding in sex, and I’ll be damned if I let you push me into making unreasonable demands on your already ravaged body. So here’s my suggestion—let’s table this and revisit later, hmm?”
“No, thanks. Like I said, I know where I stand with you. No revisiting needed.” Her words were flippant, delivered in a deliberately offhand manner, the urge to hurt him back paramount.
He studied her for a tense moment. When he spoke, all the warmth had left his voice. “We will revisit, Belle, because you need to know where I stand.”
“Your silence these last months is blatant evidence on that score.”
His jaw clenched, he sat back. “This is where I usually just kiss you to shut you up. We can keep going around in circles on this. And since make up sex is off the table for now, I think it’s best if I go and check on how much longer dinner will be. We’re eating out on the terrace. I’ll be back in a minute to help you outside.”
“That won’t be necessary.” she replied stiffly. “And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re still a master controller when it comes to an honest discussion.”
His eyes narrowed. “Dammit, Tinkerbelle, what the hell has gotten into you?”
From nowhere, tears threatened. “Just go. I’ll see you on the terrace.” When he hesitated, she glared at him. “It’s only a short distance—I can manage,” she insisted.
For a long while, he said nothing, then he recapped the antiseptic cream and stood up. “Fine. I’ll join you there shortly.”
Her gaze followed him as he left the room, lingering over the broad set of his shoulders. A stab of longing pierced deep.
She’d loved him so much, had given her heart and soul to him, only to find out that the reciprocity she’d expected would not be forthcoming, nor would her most treasured wish ever be realized.
Abandoning thoughts that were growing more painful by the second, she sipped her lemonade and grimaced at the now warm, sour taste. Discarding it, she got up and moved slowly toward the open French doors, letting the soft breeze from the sea wash over her.
The sun had begun its descent on the horizon, and she watched its fiery journey over the sparkling water as it kissed, then finally fell into, the sea. She stood there until the rumble in her stomach alerted her to its demand for nourishment. Wondering what kept Nick, she turned indoors, only to find him leaning against the opposite doorjamb, his eyes riveted on her.
For a brief moment, she saw an emotion very much like the earlier bleakness within the grey depths. Something shifted inside her, but the look vanished a second later. She pushed her mostly dry hair away from her face, confusion clouding her thoughts. She had to be mistaken. What had he to feel bleak about?
Her thoughts scattered to the wind as he approached, arrestingly sexy.
“Dinner is just coming through. Shall we sit?” He indicated the table set for two on the far side of the terrace, which she hadn’t noticed before now.
Someone had obviously been under the misconception this was to be a romantic dinner a deux and had set out beautiful flowers and elegant flatware.
“Did you put Demetra up to this?”
Nick’s smile was a little tight. “Nope. But I’m pleased she went to the trouble. Are you?” he asked.
She looked around, taking in the lit and sparkling pool. Fat aromatic candles burned around its edge, lending an extra intimate ambience to the atmosphere. She bit her lip. Under normal circumstances, she’d have been overjoyed.
“I guess I can’t fault Demetra for not knowing we haven’t shared a meal for a while.”
“That’s not what I asked, but you get a pass. As for Demetra not knowing, I wouldn’t bet on it.”
She stopped next to the table, the different slant on their seemingly innocuous meal hitting her hard. “She’s not hoping this is some big reunion, is she?”
Nick gave a casual shrug, but a layer of angry tension suddenly permeated the air. “What if she is? Are you going to throw it back in her face?” He pulled her chair out in stiff movement.
“Of course not.” Ingrained manners made her murmur her thanks when Nick helped her into her seat.
“Good.” He took his own seat and lifted the lid off the first platter.
The aromas of baked lamb and herbs rising from the dishes on the table made her mouth water. She helped herself to the tasty Greek salad and took a bite as Nick filled her water glass and then his.
He raised his glass to her. “Welcome home.” His smile remained tight, but the irate air had dissipated.
She carefully laid her napkin on her lap. “This isn’t my home, Nick. Not anymore.”
His gaze dropped momentarily but came back to hers in the next instant. “But it’ll serve its purpose for now, I think. Do you remember what ‘Althea’ means?” he questioned silkily, his voice a fascinating mixture of Greek and American accents that threatened to curl around her senses the way they had a long time ago.
“Yes, I know it means ‘to heal.’” The island had been a gift from Nick’s great-grandfather to his wife after they’d lost their first child in a tragic accident, and it had stayed in the Andreakos family since then, exquisite and untouched save for the villa that had been added to over the years.
“And that’s what you shall do here. No pressure from the outside world, just complete relaxation, as I’m sure the doctor will order when he arrives tomorrow.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes, I called him this afternoon,” he announced calmly and helped himself to salad.
Anger fizzed like a firecracker inside her. Nick hadn’t changed.
Not one iota. “And you didn’t think to check this with me first?” “I knew what your reaction would be.”
Taking a deep breath, she fought to retain her calm. “With good reason. I decide what happens to my body, not you. Besides, one of your men checked me out on the plane. I assumed he had medical qualifications?”
“Yes, but a second opinion wouldn’t hurt. Dr. Kalamaras is the best. He’ll be here in the morning. And once he’s been and gone, you can take it easy, heal your body.”
But what about her heart? How would she go about healing that after the blow he’d dealt it?
Every instinct warned her to refuse Nick’s request. Away from him, she’d been sure she was getting over him and the breakup of their marriage. She’d been sure, too, that in time, the sight of every tall, dark-haired man with a sexy, loping gait would cease to remind her of what she’d lost.
As if sensing her thoughts, he murmured, “What are you so afraid of, pethi mou ?”
She sucked in a breath and straightened her spine. “Nothing. Nothing at all. But I’d prefer it if you consult me in future before making plans on my behalf.”
After dealing her a narrow-eyed glance, he nodded. “Agreed.”
His easy capitulation fired up her suspicions. “Why are you being so agreeable?”
He looked away, his restless gaze drifting over the pool, the gardens, and the distant horizon. As if he were searching for answers.
“Nick?”
“I have a proposition for you,” he blurted.
“What sort of proposition?”
“A truce for the next, say, seven days? You need R and R. Your health is the priority, and I don’t want that jeopardized.
Everything else can wait.”
“What happens after the seven days?”
“We have that talk you’re dying to have. Or we have wild, no-holds-barred sex.”
He laughed ruefully when her forked clattered onto her plate. “There was a time when the idea of sex with me didn’t make you look so horrified.”
“I’m not. I just— Why a truce?”
“I don’t want us to keep fighting. Every good businessman or combat soldier knows when to retreat and regroup. So seven days on Althea while you recover. Agreed?” he coaxed.
With a hard swallow, Belle opened her mouth, but her consent stalled in her throat.
Here was her chance to put her long months of reclaiming her life to the test. Could she stand to be alone here with him on his secluded island? Could she cope with being with him day in and day out if he chose to remain here with her?
She cast her eyes over the beautiful garden and flowers. The breeze carried the mingled, heady scents of lemon, jasmine, and eucalyptus. The low hum of the waves hitting the beach lent the island an even more seductive air, and she knew in this, Nick was right.
“So you’re saying I can ask to return to England if I choose, or I can stay here? No pressure either way?” The idea of letting this magical place soothe her, make her stronger for when she took her life back, was so tempting. Also tempting was the idea of not being prey to the ever-hungry paparazzi who seemed bent on tracking her every move.
Nick’s gaze stayed on her, a charismatic smile coupled with a hint of something else she couldn’t define on his face. He knew she was being swayed by the island’s enthralling promise. He’d always been able to read her mind with insulting ease while she’d grappled with the enigma she’d married. “No pressure,” he said softly, despite the determined gleam in his eyes.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Agreed. But we will have that talk in seven days. Yes?”
He said nothing for a moment, but his eyes took on a glint
that made her wonder fleetingly what she’d gotten herself into. “Yes.”
Feeling strangely let down when she should’ve been celebrating her minor victory, she took a hasty sip of water and resumed eating.
After a few mouthfuls and many deep breaths to regain her composure, she looked up. “I, um, thanks for coming to rescue me…all of us. I don’t know how you found out where I was, but you put your life in danger when you didn’t have to. So thank you.”
“There was no debate. You were in danger and I, as your husband, had a duty to ensure your safety. I’d ask you why you were there in the first place, but that’s not a conversation for tonight. Tonight is for relaxing. Let the island begin to work its wonders. Perhaps when you’re stronger, you can explain to me why you felt the need to put yourself in such a dangerous situation,” he finished with a quirked eyebrow.
But she hardly heard his words as her mind seized with wrenching precision on one word. Duty .
He’d only come out of duty . Of course he wouldn’t want the world to know his wife had been in danger and he’d done nothing. Especially when everyone knew he had the means to act.
As head of Andreakos Shipping Industries, he commanded an astonishing amount of power and respect in the business world, and she knew for the sake of share prices that any hint of scandal was to be avoided at all costs.
It occurred to her he hadn’t answered her question about how he’d known her whereabouts. “Did you speak to Liz? Is that how you knew where to find me?”
“No, I haven’t seen or spoken to your friend since you left.” The curtness of his tone reminded her that Liz and Nick had never gotten along. Liz had never hidden her disapproval of her husband. In the end, she’d been justified.
“So how did you find me?” she persisted.
He shrugged. “My security team alerted me that you were missing and in possible danger. I took it from there.”
“You mean you had me under surveillance even in Nawaka?” First Mwana, and now Nick, as well? Unbelievable. Her appetite completely deserted her.
One of the things she’d hated about her life with Nick had been the constant presence of security, media, and bodyguards. Having restaurants and theatres checked out before they entered had seriously worn on her nerves right from the start of their relationship. Even when they were alone, there’d always been a shadow or two in the background somewhere.
Except here on Althea.
Here, they’d been truly alone. Or as alone as they could be without the visible presence of security guards. The thought of being permanently spied on—not to mention the press attention that would likely await Nick Andreakos’s wife at home in England—made the prospect of recuperating here on Althea even more appealing.
“You didn’t stop being in danger just because we weren’t together.” The harsh snap to his voice brought her head up. Just as in the kitchen, something in his tone coupled with her own instinct warned her things weren’t quite right.
Heart in her throat, she stared at him. “Nick, am I still in danger?”