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  “Good morning.” I look up and Gabrielle’s walking into my office dressed in Lally’s clothing. The clothes are so big they’re hanging off her slender frame, making her look small and vulnerable. I wonder if wearing them makes her feel as bad as it makes me feel seeing her in them.

  “Good morning,” I say hesitantly. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. Better today.”

  Okay? Like hell you are. You look like a street urchin who hasn’t eaten or slept in weeks. I want to say it, but she doesn’t need to hear it. “Lisa Donnelly from Jordan Jones is coming by later this morning with some clothing samples for you to try on.”

  “I don’t need clothes. I called an Uber to take me to my car. I have a few errands to run.”

  Here we go. “Like what?”

  “I want to go to the bank and withdraw some cash so I can pick up a few personal things. Although I don’t know if they’ll let me without identification,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. “And I want to go by and see Wade.”

  I start to take out my wallet to give her some cash, but think better of it. Before I tell her I’ll go with her, to smooth the way so she’ll have no problem withdrawing money, I remember what Maureen said about her needing space and some things of her own. “I’m sure there’s someone at the bank who can vouch for your identity. They make exceptions when it comes to these kinds of situations.”

  She nods.

  “But forget the Uber. Security will drive you wherever you need to go.”

  “I’ll drive myself.”

  “Do you have car keys?” She blinks rapidly and tucks a fat curl behind her ear. “I keep an extra key in a small magnetic box in the back wheel well.”

  “You do know that’s the first place a car thief looks, right?”

  “No one is looking to steal a twelve-year-old Honda.”

  “What about a driver’s license?” She looks up at me, her sunken eyes registering the dilemma. “Your car might have sustained some damage in the fire.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  I really don’t want to bring the hammer down hard, but is there a more stubborn woman in Charleston? “Security will take you on your errands.”

  She shakes her head. “No more security, JD. I’m done.”

  “Like hell you are.” I stand, struggling to stay behind the desk. I am so fucking done with this conversation. And with her need to punish herself for Georgie’s death. That’s what this is all about. “I can’t force you to accept the services of a personal shopper to help replace some of the things you lost, or to take money from me. But security is non-negotiable.”

  “I had security for weeks. I had it the day my hotel burned to the ground, taking my best friend with it into the ashes. It didn’t do a damn bit of good. I don’t want it anymore.”

  “You’re not thinking straight.”

  “Don’t you dare go there. I’m thinking plenty straight. If someone wants to hurt me, they’ll do it with or without security. They’ve already proven that.”

  “Only one person died in a hotel fire that started at night. You are hurting, but you are alive. That’s the most important thing.” At least to me. “It might have been worse.”

  “Really? Really, JD? It might have been worse? You are a heartless asshole.”

  I have a response on the tip of my tongue that I’m prepared to deliver while I drag her upstairs and lock her in my bedroom. But I’m no longer in charge of her security. That was the agreement. I pick up the phone and call Smith. “Gabrielle is in my study refusing security. I’m not allowing her to leave this house until you talk some sense into her.”

  Before Smith has a chance to respond, Gabrielle speaks. “I won’t be your prisoner, but I won’t waste what little energy I have fighting you. Tell your friend Smith the bank opens at nine o’clock and I plan to be there when the doors open. If he wants to talk to me, he best make it snappy.” She stalks out of the room and stomps up the stairs like she weighs five hundred pounds.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask Smith.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “You wanted to handle her security? Handle it.” I end the call, and chuck my phone across the room, narrowly missing my assistant, Patrick, in the doorway.

  “You need to get going if you’re going to make your first meeting at Sayle,” he says, without blinking an eye.

  I’m hesitant to leave until Smith gets here and I know whether Gabrielle’s going to cooperate or if I’m going to have to chain her to the bedpost. I will do it, if necessary. The woman is irrational. She’s like a rebellious teenager bucking the rules like it’s her job. Fuck. I squeeze the back of my neck until it loosens a bit. Maybe she does need space. I’m not prepared to give it to her yet, but it doesn’t seem like I have a goddamn choice.

  I go to the bay window and gaze out over the yard. No good answers there. Fine, Gabrielle. You want space, you can have it, but it’ll be on my terms. “Do me a favor,” I say to Patrick. “When Lally gets back this afternoon, ask her to fix up one of the guestrooms for Gabrielle.”

  “Any one in particular?”

  “One that she’ll be happy in.” I shrug. “A suite, maybe. On the other side of the house from me, where she’ll have some privacy.”

  “It’ll be quiet here with you at the office. I can get started on it this morning. Unless you prefer me to wait for Lally.”

  “Knock yourself out if you have the time,” I say, grabbing my briefcase and walking into the hall. “She likes lots of light,” I call over my shoulder.

  10

  Gabrielle

  The bedroom door’s open, but Smith knocks anyway. “May I come in?”

  I nod and put aside the to-do list I’m forcing myself to create. It’s daunting. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “I have a lot to do today. An Uber’s on its way. I only have a few minutes to chat.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” he says gently. “It’s not easy to lose someone you care about.”

  Smith is tall with wide shoulders and muscle everywhere. His body is such a contrast to his kind words and gentle voice. I expected bossy and bossier from him today. That’s what I prepared for. I feel the waterworks coming on, and bite down on my bottom lip to squelch the rising emotion.

  “Gabby? Is it okay if I call you Gabby?”

  “Yes. Of course. Pretty much everyone calls me that.” Except JD.

  “Sit with me for a minute,” he says, motioning toward the sitting area in JD’s bedroom. I open my mouth to protest, but he doesn’t let me. “Just for a few minutes. I won’t make you late for your appointment.”

  I eye the jungle print on the back of the club chair. Might as well get this over with. “Okay.” I drag myself across the room and take a seat in front of the slate fireplace. Once I’m seated, he sits beside me. “What can I do for you?” I ask. It sounds formal, too formal, but my brain is still addled and it’s the only polite way I can think of saying what do you want?

  “You can start by telling me how you’re doing.”

  Hmmm. His manner is unnerving. Smith’s approach is completely different from JD’s, although he’s unnerving too. They each mean business when they speak, but Smith demands it more subtly.

  “Fine, thank you.” It occurs to me that I haven’t seen Gus or Rafe since the night of the fire. I’ve asked JD about them, but as usual, he was obtuse. “How’s Gus? What happened to him? His sudden illness is connected to the fire, isn’t it? And Rafe? How’s Rafe?”

  “Lally’s right about you. You ask a lot of questions. Don’t even stop to take a breath waiting for the answers.” He watches me twist my fingers for a few seconds before he responds. “Gus is fine. He was probably poisoned, although by the time he got to the hospital, there wasn’t anything to detect. We think it had something to do with a piece of banana cream pie.”

  Banana cream pie. Banana cream pie. “That was the dessert at the hotel restaurant the night of the fire—did anyone else get sick fro
m the pie?”

  “No. Not as far as we know. Could be an allergy. But it’s more likely someone laced it with something. Not enough to kill him, but enough to send him crawling home. He was lucky, had the wherewithal to pull over before he lost consciousness.”

  I’m not sure I can bear to hear any more, but I press on because I need to know. I was responsible for everyone’s safety that night. Every person in the hotel was my responsibility. Where did it all go wrong? “Who do you think would do something like that?”

  “We’re still short on answers. But we’ll get them.”

  “Who gave him the pie?”

  “Girl at the front desk. Amy.”

  “Amy?” I cup my elbows. Amy is a twenty-three-year-old graduate student that I hired right out of college to work nights. She’s a local girl who had glowing recommendations from people I personally know. And I haven’t seen anything different from her. This just keeps getting crazier and crazier. “How about Rafe?”

  “He’s fine. Feels guilty as hell, but I don’t see anything he did wrong.”

  “No. He didn’t do anything wrong. He helped guests evacuate. Pulled the alarm when it didn’t go off automatically and woke me. I can’t imagine the magnitude of the loss if he hadn’t been there. I’ll tell him myself.”

  “He said the same thing about you. That, and you’re hard-headed and brave as hell. Takes a lot to impress Rafe.”

  “I followed protocol. Nothing brave about that.”

  “You’ll have to take it up with him. He’s downstairs wondering why you don’t want your security detail anymore.”

  “He’s wondering?” I raise an eyebrow at Smith. “You mean JD’s insisting, and he sent you up here to twist my arm.”

  Smith stares straight into my eyes and holds my gaze steady. “Since I left the military, I’m my own man. Don’t do any arm twisting I don’t agree with. You need security. JD’s right about that. But we’re going to do things a little differently.” He stretches his long legs out in front of him and digs his upper back into the chair. “We’re going to do them my way. Which means first, and foremost, you will be kept in the loop so that you understand everything that’s happening and why we’re asking you to cooperate. I will endeavor to be as honest with you as I can be.”

  I’m tired. I just want to be left alone. And . . . there’s a small piece of me that doesn’t care if someone hurts me. A small piece of me that doesn’t care if I wake up tomorrow. Will I kill myself? No. But there are moments when the weight of living is too heavy. I understand why people throw in the towel and refuse to get out of bed. I’m not there—most of the time—but I understand now. “What more could anyone possibly take from me?”

  “Plenty.” It’s a single word, but it lands with a heavy thud, leaving me not afraid, but feeling guilty. It’s not just about me. I have my parents to consider. What if someone tries to hurt them?

  “Do you think whoever set the fire would try to hurt my parents?”

  He pauses for a few seconds. “I’m not sure. But a pregnant woman died in the fire. We don’t know the circumstances around that—how the fire started or who started it. Your parents have plenty of security. Men I can personally vouch for. I increased their security after the fire.”

  That means they’ve had security all along. I let it go. On one hand, it’s a relief to know someone is watching out for their safety. But even top-notch security can’t protect against someone determined to do evil. I’m not that naïve.

  “My parents are my biggest concern. As long as they’re safe—”

  Smith pulls his outstretched legs back and sits up straight. “I will not provide a detail if you don’t agree to one, but you will have security. If I don’t handle your security, JD will hire a team to tail you.” His words are sobering, and I don’t doubt for a second, he’s telling the truth. “Can’t say that I blame him,” he adds. “If I were in his shoes, I’d do the same.”

  I shake my head. JD is too much for me to deal with right now. I don’t have the strength it takes to constantly battle with him, and I refuse to let him control every aspect of my life. I won’t do it. “It’s always like this with JD, there’s never any choice. It’s his way or his way—nothing else matters. He just wants me—what did he say? Under his protection.”

  “He’s stubborn as a goddamn mule. You’ll get no argument from me on that. But about this, he’s right.”

  I get up and go over to the window. The sky is a bleak shade of gray with a smattering of dreary white clouds. I can see the ocean in the distance, but it doesn’t cheer me. “I’m not staying here.”

  “Where you going?”

  I shrug, because I have nowhere to go. I could go to my parents in Houston for a few days, but not until I’m stronger. They’ll worry if they see me like this. Besides, I have things that need my attention here, and I have—the funeral.

  “There are a handful of carriage houses at the edge of the property,” Smith says matter-of-factly. “JD’s grandfather built them so his wife’s sisters wouldn’t have to stay in the main house when they came for extended visits. Smart man.” I peer over my shoulder at Smith and roll my eyes. He chuckles.

  “I live in one,” he says, “and we use another as the security office. The others are empty. I’m sure JD would be happy to have one of the houses fixed up for you to live in.”

  I turn my back to the window. “Happy?” The only thing that would make JD happy is if I was glued to his hip.

  His eyes glimmer with mischief as a slow grin spreads across his face. “Happy is probably an exaggeration. But I’m sure he could be persuaded.”

  Maybe it’s not a bad idea. “I would pay him rent.” With what money, Gabrielle?

  “That’s between you and him.” Smith comes over to the window. “This is how things are going to work.”

  Just when I was starting to warm to him, he turns into a controlling jerk. I glare at Smith and he stops talking immediately. “You’re bossy, just like JD. What is it with you two?”

  “He learned everything he knows about bossy from me.”

  “He was born bossy.”

  “I elevated his game.”

  I smile. I actually smile. It’s small and wobbly, like my mouth’s out of practice. My heart’s not fully in it, either, but it’s making a sincere effort to feel something other than sorrow and despair.

  “And you say it like it’s a bad thing. It’s an honor to be like JD. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s a good soldier.”

  Good soldiers obey orders. JD obeys no one. “Pfft. How long have you worked for him?”

  “Just shy of three years. Right before his father started campaigning. But I’ve known him since prep school. It was love at first sight.”

  The more Smith talks, the more I like him. I doubt he takes any shit from JD. “You’re kidding.”

  “Yeah. I’m kidding. But not about knowing him since prep school.” Smith glances at his phone. “Should I have them send the Uber away?”

  I take a long breath and hold it in my chest for a few seconds before releasing it. I study Smith’s face. It’s not screwed up with anxiety or anger, like JD’s would be. It’s open and relaxed. He’s actually letting me make the decision about my security. I meet his eyes and nod solemnly.

  He types something into the phone and slips it back into his pocket. “If I’m running security, we play by my rules. But I only have one.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You do everything your detail advises. Everything. You got a question about it, you ask. You got a problem with them, you talk to me. You don’t sneak out any back doors or elude them in any way. That type of behavior puts you at risk, and it puts them at risk. They will protect you with their lives if necessary. They’re to be afforded respect and allowed to do their jobs honorably.”

  If I agree, I will follow protocol this time. I won’t make Gus or Rafe’s lives more difficult than necessary. “I think that’s more than one rule.”

  “You d
o everything they say. It all boils down to that.”

  I nod. Let’s see if you’ll be honest with me like you promised. “I think JD’s keeping things from me. I think he knows more than he’s telling. Do you believe the fire was set?”

  “Maybe.” He swallows and gazes out the window. “I don’t believe in coincidences, but you can run into trouble chasing red herrings. I’ve told JD that too.”

  “JD believes someone set it.”

  He nods. “He’s been worried about your safety for—a while. I didn’t listen to his concerns. Chalked up most of it to him being a jealous bastard. But his concerns appear to be valid.”

  “He has this idea that there’s a threat to my safety that’s somehow connected to the past. When we were kids. What do you know about that?”

  Smith shifts his weight, placing a hand on the side wall above both of our heads. “I said I’d be as honest as I can, but there are some things that are between you and him. And I’ll respect that too. He has plenty to say to you. Plenty. Some of it will be difficult to say, and it’ll be difficult to hear. Give him a chance.”

  “Fifteen years,” I say softly. “He’s had fifteen years.”

  Smith touches my forearm. “He needs you. There are exactly two people in his life who are willing to tell him to go fuck himself. Even Lally and his brothers stop short of saying it like they mean it. Me and you, baby—that’s it. I meant it when I said it was an honor to be like JD. He’s a hothead—which I’m not, by the way—but he’s loyal to everyone he cares about. The kind of loyal you don’t find in many men.”

  I look away. The intensity in Smith’s eyes is too much.

  “Are we good?” he asks.