Chapter Three Lena
Chapter Three
Lena
It’s him.
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I can’t move, because standing at the threshold of my old bedroom is Gideon James.
And holy Christ in a rowboat, this man is beautiful.
I always had a crush on him. I never admitted it to anyone, especially not Chelsea because she would have tormented me ruthlessly, but Gideon is sexy.
He’s stupidly tall, well past six feet. Maybe six foot five?
With thick dark hair and steel gray eyes that can cut you to the bone with just one look.
Some might say that Gideon has blue eyes, but that’s too simple for them.
His eyes change with his moods, and more often than not, they’re stormy, like gray thunderclouds.
He also used to make me so mad because he was strict and hard.
But when he smiles, which isn’t often, those gray eyes lighten up, and it’s like the sun has come out from behind a cloud, making everything bright and warm.
He’s not smiling right now. In fact, he looks . . . mad.
And that’s fine because so am I. My life is being ripped out from under me.
Gideon’s jaw tightens, and then he finally speaks. “We’re leaving.”
I blink in response. “Who’s we?”
My voice sounds scratchy to my own ears.
“You and me. I’ll carry your bag. Leave your phone and computer and any other electronics here.”
With a frown, I open my tote bag and start to unload the electronics, but I can’t help but ask, “Why?”
“Because they can be traced.”
I nod and reach inside.
“You’re not going to fight me on this?”
I shake my head as I finish laying my iPad on the bed, next to my laptop and phone. I feel bad that I haven’t spoken to Chelsea. She’ll worry when she can’t reach me.
“Maybe I should text—”
“Don’t text anyone,” he interrupts.
“Chelsea will worry when she doesn’t hear from me.”
He’s quiet for so long that I glance his way and see that he’s grinding his teeth together.
“No texts.”
Rubbing my lips together, I start to think up something to say. I know he didn’t like my best friend. He called her a bad influence.
If he only knew.
But then I remember that man holding a gun to my neck, and then the jerk of his body when he was shot and the blood flowing out of him when he fell.
I’ll never forget that.
It’s one more nightmare I’ll have for the rest of my life, and I already had more than my share.
So without tapping out a quick message to Chelsea, I set the phone on the bed and turn to Gideon.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
His eyes narrow, as if he doesn’t trust me. “You’re really not arguing with me.”
I shake my head once and take a step toward him. “No, I’m not. Get me out of this fucking house.”
Without a word, he lifts my bag, and I step into the hallway with him and then scowl when no one else is waiting for us.
“Where are the others?”
“The other what?” His voice is just like I remember it. Hard. Gruff. And it makes goose bumps erupt on my skin.
“Members of my detail.”
“It’s just me.”
I stop and turn to him. “But you’re not—”
“I’ll tell you more once we’re on the fucking airplane. Let’s move. We’re going out the side exit, through the tunnel, to a waiting car. You know it well. You escaped through there many times.”
Pressing my lips together, I resume walking. I can’t even be mad at him for his snarky comment.
He’s not wrong. I know that tunnel well.
Surprisingly, we don’t run into anyone on our way through the house. My parents said their goodbyes about an hour ago, and I haven’t seen my other detail guys.
I still don’t know what was going on with Richie at the gallery exhibit the other night. All of it felt so damn shady.
It’s all a jumbled mess in my head, and when I think about it too hard, I want to cry.
Gideon is right next to me, not touching me, but so close that I can feel the warmth of him, and for the first time in four years, I feel like I can exhale. Like I finally feel safe.
He leads me down the tunnel and outside to the waiting car. When he joins me in the back seat, I realize that it’s Bishop driving.
I never see the director anymore. Why is he our escort?
“What the hell is going on?” I ask him, and he flicks his eyes over to me in the rearview mirror but doesn’t answer me. “Come on. Some guy who is supposed to be protecting me tries to take me, is shot and bleeds all over me—”
Gideon stiffens next to me. His hands tighten into fists.
“—and Richie disappeared on me, leaving me alone with the bad guy.”
“What the fuck,” Gideon says. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“He didn’t disappear,” Bishop says.
“He wasn’t with me,” I reply. “And my guys never walk away from me.”
“He was distracted. Pulled away. It was part of the setup.”
I shake my head and lean back in the seat, resigned to the fact that no one will tell me what’s really going on. It’s always the same. This is what it is to be the daughter of the most powerful woman in the world.
I do what I’m told, and I’m not told much. It’s infuriating.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
No one answers me.
“And you all wonder why I’m a pain in the ass,” I mutter, shaking my head as I look out the window as Washington, DC, whizzes by.
We end up at the airport, and I’m escorted onto a private jet. When the door closes, it’s just me and Gideon on the plane.
My eyes fly to his. His face is stony, his eyes flat and calm, showing no emotion. Which is pretty on brand for this man. He never had much to say, and it looks like that hasn’t changed.
Before long, we’re airborne. I hate flying, and that sucks for me because I’ve had to fly all over the freaking world. I haven’t said a word since setting foot on this aircraft, and we’re not even looking at each other.
My hands aren’t altogether steady, and I hate that no one will tell me where I’m going. I don’t know anything.
The only reason I’m not throwing an all-out fit is that Gideon is with me. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.
“Montana.”
My eyes return to his, and I tilt my head to the side. “Pardon?”
“We’re going to my ranch in Montana.”
The pieces start to fit together.
“You’re not coming back to work for the Secret Service.”
He shakes his head and stays silent.
“You’re taking me to your home.”
That makes my stomach jitter. I get to see where he lives?
Gideon nods.
“Because my mother wants to hide me away. Because someone wants to hurt her through hurting me.”
“That’s the theory.”
“How long?”
He shrugs those broad shoulders. He’s in a black suit, just like he always was every day that I saw him while he worked for us. His hands are perfectly steady as he reaches for his phone.
“You don’t know how long I’ll be staying with you?”
He shakes his head again, and frustration bubbles up in my chest.
“It’s going to be awesome to live with you. Since you’re so freaking chatty.”
He takes a deep breath and then leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“I’m not here to chat with you, Lena. This isn’t a spa retreat,” he says. This might be the most words he’s ever said to me in a row. “You’re not coming to hang out on vacation. You’re going to be there because you’re—”
“In danger. Yeah, I get it.” I nod once and move to a seat a little farther away from him. I can smell the woodsy cologne or shower gel he uses, and it does things to me that are completely inappropriate. “Thank you for your help.”
He blinks in surprise. “You’re really not fighting this.”
“Look, I’m not a kid anymore, Gideon. I’m not stupid.
The incident at the gallery scared the shit out of me.
I’m not used to being covered in blood and brain matter or having a pistol pushed against my throat.
” His jaw tightens. “I don’t know what’s going on.
One minute, Chelsea and I were checking out an art exhibit, and I was trying to ditch my asshole of an ex-boyfriend while she sampled the dessert buffet.
The next, I come out of the restroom to find that Richie’s gone, and the new guy is threatening me. ”
“Fuck,” he growls and pushes his hand through his hair.
“Yeah. Fuck might be an understatement. So no, I’m not fighting you or giving you shit about this.
I haven’t pulled anything since . . .” I swallow hard and shake my head, and now he does fist his hands because he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I glance at his leg. I can’t say the words.
“I grew up. I don’t have to sneak around because I’m an adult who does her own thing, except I have security with me.
I wish I’d been able to go back to my apartment to get actual clothes that fit me and that I like, rather than the castoffs I left at Mom’s place when I moved out four years ago.
I also wish I had my art supplies with me, because if I’m hanging out in the woods with no one to talk to, I’ll be able to get a lot of work done. ”
“We’ll get you supplies,” he mutters. “And clothes.”
“You’ll take me shopping?”
His face says keep dreaming.
“You can order whatever you want from my computer at home. We may be in the boonies, but we do get deliveries.”
At least there’s that.
“Okay.”
“For the record, I don’t like this. I don’t want you in my house or on my property. I don’t want to bring whatever shitstorm you’re tangled up in to my home and to my family.”
Oh shit. I blink as I sit back in my seat, staring at him. It didn’t occur to me that Gideon would be married and have kids. But it makes sense. Of course he does. He’s handsome and smart, and he’s living his life in Montana.
I clear my throat and can’t look him in the eye, so I stare over his shoulder as I answer him.
“I’m sure your wife will be lovely, and I’ll do my best to stay out of everyone’s way. I’m good at fading into the background, I’ve had plenty of practice. Just please don’t ask me to babysit your kids. I’m not good with little ones.”
His eyes jerk up in surprise, and then he scowls.
“What the fuck, Lena?”
“Your family, Gideon. Of course you don’t want me to intrude on your family.”
He swears under his breath and rubs his hand over his mouth, and I wad up an old jacket that I wore in high school and prop it against the window.
“I’m going to nap. I haven’t slept well”—in years—“and I think everything is just catching up to me.”
I close my eyes, and he doesn’t reply. I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t say anything more.
I wonder what his wife’s like. What kind of woman did he marry? I bet she’s gorgeous. Tall and thin and looks perfect by his side. Maybe she’s a redhead. Maybe they have little ginger kids.
Am I jealous?
Of course I am. But I’m not here to crush over my former bodyguard. I’m here because someone is out to hurt me, and Gideon is the only one who can keep me safe. And it does hurt my feelings that he doesn’t want me around, but I’ll be damned if I let him know that.
Because that’s pretty much par for the course in my life. I’m typically in the way.
The whirl of the engines and movement of the plane make me extra sleepy, and finally, I feel myself drift off.