Chapter 43
JULES
“Go inside and pack.” Linc’s tone is low and commanding in a way I’ve never heard before.
When I don’t move because I’m frozen with fright, he adds, “Now.”
My legs feel unsteady as I back toward the cabin door, the precious letters still tucked against my chest. Through the screen, I watch Linc stride down the porch steps toward the two men, his posture radiating pure alpha confidence.
I should do what he says. Go inside. Pack.
Checking over my shoulder, I hurry upstairs. After tossing my sparse belongings into my bag, I edge toward the window in the hall. From safely behind the screen, I strain to see and hear what’s happening.
The conversation starts calmly enough. Linc’s gaze is controlled, even.
His hands are loose at his sides. The men stand with their arms crossed.
I can’t hear a single word because a robin engages in a loud territorial dispute, chirping and calling from the tree outside the window to a squirrel that helps itself to the contents of the birdfeeder.
From the lake-facing side of the house, with its sprawling lawn topped with the Adirondack chairs Linc and I sat in as we watched the sun set over the private beach and dock, you’d never know there is a face-off happening in the driveway.
My body feels coiled with nervous energy. Every muscle tenses as I watch the exchange unfold in frustrating silence. Linc gestures toward the SUV, then pulls out his phone. One of the men shakes his head. More words.
Linc’s posture changes, turns menacing. He opens and closes his fist, charged with powerful energy.
The other two men seem to realize who the alpha is. They talk some more.
Every nerve in my body teeters on what feels like the edge of the earth.
One of the men nods as if agreeing to something and then the other follows.
The whole interaction lasts maybe ten minutes, but it feels like hours. Finally, the men get back in their SUV and drive away, leaving only the sound of gravel crunching under their tires and the bird celebrating their retreat or its victory against the enemy squirrel, I’m not sure.
Linc stands in the driveway for a long moment, watching them disappear down the winding road. When he turns back toward the cabin, his face is grim.
He glances up toward the window, likely seeing me. I lift my hand in an awkward wave because it’s too late for me to take cover. I don’t know why, but I’m hesitant for him to see that I was watching.
When he comes inside, he says, “Be ready to leave in twenty minutes.”
“Linc, what—?”
“Twenty minutes, Jules, please.” He softens as if he remembers he’s talking to me.
Swallowing thickly, I turn toward the stairs as he swiftly moves through the cabin, closing windows and turning off lights. Just like that, our happy little end-of-summer bubble bursts completely.
I help clean up, my hands shaking slightly. The newly found Lincoln love letters are nearly forgotten—a heavy reminder from something as light as paper that our peaceful, intimate week was always temporary.
The drive back to Chicago passes in tense silence. Linc grips the steering wheel like he’ll strangle it if necessary, his jaw set in a hard line. Every attempt I make at conversation gets a one-word response or a grunt.
By the time we reach his place, I’m ready to scream from the anxiety building in my chest. The familiar luxury of his condo feels cold now and I no longer feel welcome. But where can I go?
As soon as the door closes, he sets down our bags and marches over to me and wraps me in a warm hug. “You’re safe here. I promise you that.”
I soften into his embrace and then take the first deep breath since before we left the cabin. I peer up at Linc. “Safe from what? Who were those men? What did you tell them?”
But he’s already moving toward his bedroom. “I need to make some calls. We’ll talk later.”
Later. Unfortunately, I’m all too aware that later is a promise that is often broken.
That night, I lie in the guest bed staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. Every small sound in the building makes me jump. The hum of the air conditioning. The distant sound of traffic. The elevator dinging down the hall.
Around two in the morning, I give up on sleep and pad to the kitchen for water. The blue glow of a computer screen comes from the living room.
Linc sits on the couch in athletic shorts and a t-shirt. He’s wearing his glasses and his laptop balances on his knees. In the dim light, he looks older somehow, the playful man from the lake replaced by someone harder.
“Can’t sleep either?” I ask softly.
He looks up, and for a moment, his expression softens. “Just taking care of some things.”
I settle on the opposite end of the couch, tucking my legs under me. “Can you tell me what happened between you and those men?”
Linc sets his laptop on the table and leans back against the cushions. “I can confirm that they were working for Drecken.”
“And …?”
“And I turned the tables.”
I tuck my chin. “What do you mean?”
“I told them I’d double whatever they were making if they’d back off, leave you out of it, and tell me everything about their boss.” His mouth quirks in a smug smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
My jaw lowers.
“They accepted.”
“Whoa. Those are some impressive business negotiating skills.”
“Money can’t talk, but it has a loud voice,” he murmurs.
“Your father would be proud.”
He grunts. “Despite not winning the Echo & Answer bid, at the end of the day, Drecken can’t outbid me.” The certainty in his voice reminds me again of the vast gulf between our worlds.
“Did they tell you anything worthwhile?”
His shoulder bumps up. “Not much.”
“But she’s after us. Why?”
“They didn’t know.”
“You believed them?”
“They were just following orders,” he says, voice clipped.
“Anything else?”
He points to his laptop. “I also learned that she’s been doing some dirty dealings.”
“Which are …?” The anticipation is worse than when I was a kid with a loose tooth that I just couldn’t wiggle enough and make it fall out. I’m hanging by a thread.
“It’s safer for you not to know.”
I study his face in the low light of the computer screen. He’s logged into Meridian and was looking at spreadsheets. “And that’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“That’s it.”
The dismissal stings. I thought we were in this together. Linc and Jules against the world. “Well, I guess that’s one set of bad guys off my back.”
His gaze lands on me. “They’re also going to find out who burned down your building.”
I should be grateful. But I feel so lost. Almost like a forgery. A fake. Linc is always in command yet perfectly at ease. I hardly know who I am or where I belong. Certainly not in a museum.
I try to cut how dismal I’m starting to feel with comedy. “Thanks. They say it’s a small world, even in Thug Town. It’s a community, if you will.”
“They won’t bother you again.”
Something in his voice makes me shiver. I’ve never seen Linc like this—like he’s prepared to destroy entire worlds to protect what’s his. It should be reassuring. Instead, it makes me feel small and helpless because before we were a team. Now, I feel like I’ve been left in the dark.
“On the upside,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice, “any evidence that I forged the Echo & Answer painting went up in smoke.”
Along with my fake diploma, though, what’s on record in HR should hold up to scrutiny.
Linc remains quiet. Humorless. I can feel him pulling away, retreating behind walls I didn’t even know existed. The man who held me in the lake, who kissed me silly—he’s disappearing right in front of me.
“I guess I should try to get some sleep,” I say finally.
“Yeah. Me too.”
As I head back toward the guest room, I remember the letters I wanted to keep safe in case Drecken’s men were looking for them. I pull them out of my bag, running my fingers over the faded ribbon.
These belong to Linc. To his family’s history.
I leave them outside his bedroom door without reading a single word. Whatever secrets they contain, they’re his to discover.
September arrives with crisp morning air that makes the whole city seem to stand up straighter after months of wilting in the heat.
Back at Meridian, it’s business as usual—if you can call investigating insurance fraud and dodging corporate espionage usual. Recalling my very first encounter with Linc—over the phone—and everything since, I leave a chocolate on his desk. It’s something of a peace treaty. A love note.
I visit Wendy and Carmen on the thirty-third floor because I miss them and need something normal in my life. I stop by the coffee cart in the lobby and grab three pumpkin spice lattes.
“Jules!” Wendy practically bounces out of her chair when she sees me. “We were just talking about you.”
My old office is already decorated for fall, complete with delightfully plump ceramic pumpkins, sprays of silk autumn leaves, corn husks, seasonal flowers, and candy corn overflowing from a glass bowl. It’s wonderfully, aggressively cheerful and just what I need.
“How’s life working with the boss’s son?” Carmen’s eyebrows bob as she accepts her latte gratefully.
I let out a long exhale. “It’s …” I pause, trying to find words that won’t reveal too much. “Like a corn maze.”
Wendy almost chokes on her drink. “A spider’s web?”
Carmen adds, “Are you bewitched and bewildered?”
We all dissolve into laughter, which makes me feel alive again.
“So what you mean to say is things are complicated?” Wendy leans forward, eager to hear more.
“We haven’t defined things,” I admit.
Carmen points out, “And there’s the whole HR issue since he’s technically your boss.”
Wendy says, “That’s temporary, though, right? I thought he was only supposed to be here for the summer.”