She turned from the window, faced the front door, and paused.
It was probably safe to go back to the house, right? So why wouldn't her legs move?
Nash had seemed tense when he left. And he took a gun with him. A foreboding quiver snaked down her spine.Oh, stop it. You're overreacting.
He said he was a security agent. She wasn't entirely sure where that fell between mall cop and James Bond, but he probably carried a gun everywhere he went. His arming himself didn't prove that anything treacherous was lurking.
Besides, there were two security guards on the premises as well. She was safe.
Perfectly safe.
Which, of course, was why she used a fake name to gain entry into a house where she feared her cousin was in some kind of mortal danger. Because Emil Van Horn's vacation estate was so safe.
She took a deep, slow breath, wishing she knew a million things she didn't know. Wishing she controlled a million things she'd never control. Like her cousin's taste in men. Or her family's business ethics.
Apprehension glued her feet to the floor.
God, could you . . .
Oh, good grief, what should she pray? Did she really have the right to ask him for help now? She'd rushed after Cassidy, all the way to the Caribbean without consulting God.
And she knew perfectly well why. She was terrified of what he might want her to do. Like leave Cassidy in his hands and focus on the obvious problems at her family's business.
But that lion's den was more terrifying than chasing Cassidy and Emil to the tropics.
And she was a chicken. Even more so without Cassidy by her side.
So here she was. Besides, Cassidy did need her. Cassidy wasn't safe with Emil. Lena was sure of that.
The thought of Cassidy sprouted a new hope—thin as it was. What if Cassidy triggered that alarm? Maybe she somehow knew Lena had arrived and had come looking for her.
Not allowing any inner voice of reason to snip her thin thread of optimism, she forced her legs to march toward the door. "Nutmeg, for real this time, let's go."
Nutmeg raised his head but didn't leave the sofa. He'd found a very comfortable spot and didn't appear to believe Lena was offering a better option.
Lena picked up the leash.
Thathe understood. He zoomed to her side, but his 'I'm a seed in a popcorn popper' impression made it impossible for her to clip the leash onto his collar.
"Hey buddy, come on. Work with me here. I know you want to go out. Just hold still. Please."
Her words only excited him more. The difficulty with the leash should have frustrated her, but Nutmeg's antics had the opposite effect. She couldn't help but smile at hisenthusiasm. "Nutmeg, I do believe you're the happiest dog in the whole world."
When she finally secured the leash to his collar, she set his water bowl in the kitchen sink and walked out onto the landing.
She shut the door behind her and took only two steps before motion on the stairs stole the air from her lungs.
Nutmeg's ears perked. Then he resumed hopping with such glee that she worried he'd fall off the landing.
Her hand flew to her chest, and relief refilled her lungs when she realized it was Nash climbing the stairs.
Wow. She needed to pull herself together.
"What happened?" she asked. Hopefully, before Nash noticed how paranoid she'd been.
"Are you leaving?"
"Is everything okay at the house?"
