Lottie shrugged. “He never said, but I suspect he’s trying to find out who broke into my apartment.”
Nessa picked at a loose string on the duvet cover. “Do you think it’s tied to—”
“No,” Lottie said immediately. “It has nothing to do with my past. Why would it? I left my family so long ago.”
“True,” Nessa conceded. Then it was her turn to shrug. “It’s just weird.”
“The whole thing is weird,” Lottie agreed. “But I have no doubt Hunt, or the detective working the case, will get to the bottom of it.”
Nessa nodded, scanning the bedroom. “Did they take anything?”
“Not that I could see.” Lottie had gone through all her belongings as they put them all away last night. “To me, it seemed more like they were looking for something.”
“What could they possibly want?”
“Money.”
“Maybe,” Nessa said. Then gave a full body shudder. “It’s just creepy. Do you want me to help you clean? Get the burglar’s grubby hands off your stuff?”
“Actually, I’d love that.” The thought of someone touching all her stuff was creeping her out too. “Plus, we should really get back out to Ronan. We’re being rude.” She hopped off the bed. Before she opened the door, she stopped, looking over her shoulder and waggled her eyebrows. “Unless you can’t control yourself around him and jump his bones?”
Nessa picked up a pillow and threw it at Lottie. “Oh, stop.”
“Hey, you’re not the only one who can read faces,” Lottie told her with a smirk.
Nessa blushed, a deep burning red. “Let’s be honest, here. You know I would have no idea what to do with all that…man.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be thathardto figure out.”
Nessa blushed deeper. “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; I’m not like you, Lottie.”
“No,” she said, moving back to the bed and taking Nessa by the shoulders. “You’re Nessa, and Ronan didn’t take me in his arms and whisper anything in my ear. Or call me sweetheart.”
“Oh my God, Lottie, stop,” Nessa said, moving away and opening the door. She marched her way back to the living room.
Lottie followed, and just as they reached Ronan again, Nessa stopped dead in her tracks at the view. Ronan’s heated gaze was firmly on Nessa. Lottie laughed softly and said in her best friend’s ear, “He’s also not looking at me likethateither.”
Hunt exitedthe Uber at the elegant pre-Civil War brownstone row house in the Brooklyn Heights area, throwing his thanks for the ride over his shoulder before shutting the door. The air was still with a slight chill around him as he strode up to the wrought-iron railing and fence surrounded the front. Matures trees lined the sidewalk, busy with people walking their dogs and enjoying the day. He waited for a mother pushing her daughter in a stroller to walk by him before he trotted up the steps and knocked on the door.
A moment later, it opened to Archer. Retired from the United States Army Special Forces, and now head of security at Phoenix, Archer held a confidence Hunt only saw in high-ranking police officers. It wasn’t arrogance; Archer simply knew his worth as a man. Hunt respected that. “Thanks for meeting with me,” Hunt said, stepping into the house as Archer moved away from the door.
“It’s not a problem,” said Archer, curiosity brimming in his sharp, dark-blue eyes.
Hunt offered a rough hug to his close friend before stepping farther into the large foyer of the old but recently renovated house, with the glistening hardwood floors that led to a curved staircase.
Seated on the couch in the living room was Archer’s wife, Elise, watching him with her strong, dark-brown eyes, twirling a finger in her long, dark hair. She always had a calm air about her, but Hunt knew Elise was a tough as any cop on the force. Smarter than most.
“Hey,” he said to her, offering her a gentler hug.
She returned the hug and then asked, “Is everything all right?”
Hunt ran a hand through his hair as he took a seat opposite her and Archer, who grabbed the remote control to turn off the television. “Yesterday, Lottie’s condo was broken into.” Alarm registered on both of their faces, and he nodded agreement. “So, yeah, it’s not great.”
Elise strained up in her seat, her eyebrows rising. “You were called to the scene?”
“Not officially,” Hunt explained. “Lottie called me.” As quickly and simply as he could, he caught them up on everything since he arrived at Lottie’s condo yesterday, minus the unforgettable moment between them. He could still taste her on his tongue. Smell her every time he inhaled. Earlier, he nearly lost it when she was about to turn him away, but he was glad he’d gotten inside her head, making that choice not so easy.
“Lottie is lying to you?” Archer asked when Hunt finished talking.
