2. Willow
Chapter 2
Willow
I glance around, watching as the crazy scene unfolds in downtown Silver Spoon Falls. The tension in the air is palpable, and I can’t shake the gnawing anxiety that’s been eating at me since I made an anonymous Crime Stoppers report about my boss’s questionable business practices.
Just yesterday, I plotted my escape from this hellhole of a job. But quitting too soon would’ve sent all sorts of red flags flying, and I’d be damned if I let Oscar know I was the one who put all the wheels in motion.
“What's your name?” the tall, broody guy wearing a jacket with “FBI” in white letters splashed across the back asks.
“Willow Sumner.” I sit against the uncomfortable back seat.
“Just hang tight, Willow. Someone will be taking you to the station for an interview soon.”
Great. I can’t freaking wait to get all this over with so I can say goodbye to everything having to do with Cavani Investments. But that flicker quickly shifts back to anxiety as I strain to catch another glimpse of the smoking-hot FBI agent who snatched me out of the line of fire. I hope he’s alright.
Suddenly, the entrance explodes with noise again as the hot agent emerges and scans the area, making eye contact with me. In that instant, I feel as if the whole world falls away. Oh, man. I’m in so much trouble here.
A little while later, a deputy sheriff slips into the car and turns to tell me, “I’m going to transport you to the local FBI office.”
“Thank you.” I sit back and watch as we drive through the small town, hoping to get this day over and done with so I can figure out what comes next for me. Being unemployed and possibly hunted by criminals isn’t what I ever imagined would happen to me when I took the job at Cavani Investments.
Sitting alone in the tiny windowless room feels like being in a timeout for grown-ups. The sterile white walls remind me of a hospital waiting room, and I nearly crawl out of my skin waiting. And waiting.
The door finally swings open, and the FBI agent from earlier strolls in. “Sorry to keep you waiting so long.” He doesn’t really look sorry , I think to myself as he sits across from me. “I need to get your statement, and then we’ll work on getting you out of here.”
Great. I can’t wait to get home and forget this day—actually, this entire month—ever happened. “What would you like to know?”
“When did you start working at Cavani Investments?” He quickly writes on a standard yellow pad as I give him the quick rundown of the longest month of my life. When Oscar offered me the job, blind ambition caused me to overlook all the red flags. Accepting the too-good-to-be-true position turned out to be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.
“How long did it take for you to realize something wasn’ t quite right with their practices?” he asks without looking up from his notes.
“About a week.” The first time I started really looking at the files on my desk.
“What brought it to your attention?” His bored tone raises my hackles a little bit.
“Since the office manager I replaced had left before I started, I had to pretty much train myself. It took me about a week to learn the computer system.” Boy did I get the shock of my life once I figured out the scam Oscar had going. “It didn’t take me long to figure out the balances in the accounts didn’t match the reports. And all the accounts seemed to be owned by nonexistent people.”
“So, you called the Crime Stoppers hotline?”
Duh. He already knows this. I’m tired, cranky, and totally over this freaking interview. “That’s right.”
There’s a knock at the door and I’m so happy for the interruption. My hunky agent strolls in all broad shoulders and rugged charm, and I can’t help but notice how the very air changes as he enters the room. There’s a magnetic quality about him, and it’s hard not to feel a rush of excitement at the sight. I take a deep breath, hoping to get my heart under control, but that only serves to draw his spicy scent into my lungs .
“Willow,” he says, his voice deep and steady, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m going to finish up your interview.” Want to see my happy dance? I think as the other agent stands and leaves the room, mumbling something about the damn water in town.
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “Okay. Can we finish this up so I can get home?” I’m so over this day. Hopefully, a glass of wine and a long bath will help me forget the biggest mistake of my life.
He just stares at me for a moment. “No, Willow. Going home tonight isn’t an option for you. You’re going to be staying with me until we’re sure that Oscar’s operation has been dismantled.”
“What do you mean I’m staying with you?” I ask, incredulous. “I’m a grown woman, not some damsel in distress in need of saving. I can take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter.”
“The way Oscar operates, it’s not safe for you to be alone,” he insists, his tone brooking no argument. “I have a very secure home right outside of town where I know you’ll be safe.”
“But…” I automatically begin to argue.
“I don’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.” When did my safety become his job? Okay, I’m not going to lie; I’m not as opposed to the idea as I should be .
“This sounds like a very bad idea,” I mutter under my breath as all my rational arguments fly right out the window. “I don’t even know your name.”
“We can fix that. I’m Lennox Crawford.” He meets my gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of his determination presses against me. “We’ll discuss everything else later,” he adds, turning to lead the way out.
“Can I have my purse back?” I ask as we walk through the busy office.
“Unfortunately, it’s been placed in evidence.” Well, isn’t that just perfect. He holds the door open for me to walk through. “Once they go through and get the memory stick, you should get it back.”
“How long does that take?” Freaking hell. What a pain in my rear.
“At least a few days.” He leads me to a massive black truck and opens the passenger door for me.
I stop and cross my arms across my chest as I stare into his eyes. “There are things in my purse I need tonight.”
“We’ll come back tomorrow and see if we can get your stuff.” The conciliatory sound of his voice really raises my hackles.
“I can’t get into my house without my keys.” I barely resist the urge to stomp my foot. “And I need to get in there for some of my things if I’m going to stay at your house.” Besides, Chewy is home alone.
“Fucking hell,” he grumbles under his breath. “Come back inside with me.”
He leaves me standing in the lobby and rushes off, muttering about difficult women. He hasn’t seen difficult yet. A little while later, he returns with my keys and wallet. “Thank you.” I smile sweetly at him.
“Don’t mention it.” He places his hand at the small of my back and leads me back out to the parking lot.
The drive to my apartment is laced with tension as a charged silence hangs heavy in the air between us. My mind races. The thought of being thrust into close quarters with this handsome stranger is both thrilling and terrifying.
He drives straight to my apartment without asking for directions, which tells me the FBI agent probably investigated me. When we arrive at my place, I lead him up the front steps and hear my neighbor’s door open.
“Is everything okay, Willow?” Mrs. Procter, the retired schoolteacher next door, sticks her head out her door.
“It’s great. This is my friend, uh…” My muddled mind can’t even come up with his name.
“Lennox Crawford, ma’am.” He holds out his hand to my nosy neighbor without skipping a beat. “Nice to meet you.”
“Uh-huh.” She looks back and forth between us a few times before turning to me. “Just yell if you need anything.”
“I will.” I give her a bright smile, hoping it convinces her everything is fine.
After unlocking my door, I push it open to find my spoiled pup, Chewy, dashing straight for me, his tiny paws clicking against the floor. I lift the little brown Shih Tzu up against my chest. “Chewy, I’m so sorry I missed your dinner time!” I say as he turns his head away in protest. There’s something grounding about holding him, a reminder of the life I’m trying to protect.
Lennox watches as I rush to the kitchen to pour a bowl of food for my disgruntled pet. “It’s the perfect name for him. He really looks like a miniature Chewbacca.”
“That’s what I thought the first time I saw him.” I can’t help but notice how his lips quirk up at the corners. “There’s something we need to get out in the open right now. He’s my little sidekick, and I’m not going anywhere without him.”
“Let’s get you guys packed up.”