“No, I…” I glanced at Vanessa. “There’s usually two or three of us here.”
He nodded. His expression was so flat, it was like being interrogated by the police. “Usually?”
“Always,” I amended. “We always have multiple staff on duty.” This was wrong. All of it was wrong. “Should I be worried about being alone?”
“Just asking.”
But the way his eyes met Tristan’s, and they shared another one of those small nods? That, and the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he positioned himself between me and the door? It all suggested he wasn’tjust askinganything.
“Why did he have this picture?” I said, more to myself than him. “And why was he so interested in when the other one was taken?”
“I’m in town for a few days.” Galahad put out his hand—a big one, that could have swallowed both of mine with room to spare—palm up. “Give me your phone, and I’ll plug in my number. If he comes back, I want you to call me.”
Tristan made a noise, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Galahad to figure out what it meant.
Nervous energy pinged around inside me. Part of it was from him, but not the scared-nervous part. No, he was responsible for the excited-nervous part. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to him. This wasnotwhat I meant when I thought about needing security.Thatwas supposed to be a silly idea, like a woman in one of my romance novels who needed a military man to protect her.
“My name is Garrett Cruz,” he said as he typed. “Galahad’s a call sign I don’t use anymore. I’m marking myself as an emergency contact.”
Emergency contact?
“What he means,” said Tristan softly, “is if the guy comes back, we’d like to ask him some more questions, and it would be best if we were easy to reach. You have my number, too, right?”
Questions. Right. The phone number was about asking questions. No, not right. “Why didn’t you ask him those questions when you were outside?”
“He was too worked up.” Garrett gave my phone back. “Promise you’ll call me if you see him again? Anywhere?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. Too many unknowns were swirling around my brain. Was Tristan telling the truth about wanting to talk to the guy? Or was the real truth that they thought Ineededan emergency contact? Why did a stranger carry around a photo of my grandmother with the wordDelphinewritten on the back? Had she really been in France during such a dangerous time?
And how the hell did all of this mess lead to me having Mr. Tall, Dark, and Frowny’s phone number?
Chapter 4
Galahad
Sawdust assaulted my senses.The office was an under-construction mess of exposed studs, half-installed drywall, and scattered tools, wrapped in a historic red-brick exterior and large front windows. The plywood floor was coated with dust from the remodel, which clung to my boots. I stepped over an overturned bucket and kicked a stray screwdriver out of the way.
“Watch your step,” I called over my shoulder, more instinct than genuine concern for Tristan. “The place is a damn obstacle course.”
“Sorry, princess. I thought you could handle a construction zone.” Tristan’s voice carried the hint of amusement that usually made me want to deck him. “Getting soft in civilian life?”
“I can’t believe you brought me here.” The in-progress office had a month or two of work before it would be ready for clients, let alone staff. “Nothing says ‘work for us instead of the largest military contractor in the country’ like a missing wall.”
“Missing wall?” Tristan barked out a laugh. “Better than some of the places we worked out of before. At least here, the walls will eventually be finished. No rats. All it needs is alittle manual labor and some business licenses. And functional plumbing. Once that’s done, it’ll be downright luxurious.”
I grunted. He wasn’t wrong. No gunfire here, either. “Why the construction, though? Why not set up shop somewhere you could just move in?”
“Arthur liked the old building, but wants to do everything from the ground up, including the office.”
Arthur came from significant money, which had been a sore point as long as I’d known him. Not only had his father owned the defense contractor we all worked for in Afghanistan, but there’d been serious nepotism involved. When I’d first met the man, I’d assumed he was a silver-spoon asshole who hadn’t earned the right to lick my boots. Turned out he was one of the best leaders I’d ever served under.
He’d spent far more time than he should have trying to prove he deserved what he had, which was why it surprised me that he’d take his father’s money to start this company. Although it did explain the ground-up theory.
“So…” Tristan’s tone shifted to his sing-song way that told me the harassment hadn’t actually started. “Emergency contact, huh?”
I should have driven straight through to DC without a pause. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m definitely starting.” He clapped me on the shoulder, like the fool he was. “That was some next-level smooth operator shit back there.”
