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“School?” He looked surprised.
“Getting my doctorate,” she answered. “Anthropology.”
“You’re from Alaska?” he asked.
“No.” She was so tired. She’d been tired for the last year or so. And stressed. There were things you couldn’t unlearn, couldn’t erase from your mind, no matter how hard you might want to.
He wrapped the coat around her. “You’re shivering.”
“Am I?” she asked, immediately turning into him and placing her hand against the warmth of his skin.
His broken groan startled her. “Stop moving,” he hissed, shifting her against him so her head rested on his chest. “Relax.”
She did, instantly. With him close, there was no choice. She felt comfortable, safe—protected. And she was so, so tired.
“Why Alaska?” His voice was fading.
“My brother,” she answered, his steady pace rocking her. “One of his clients lived there—he said it was nice. He was always moving me around. Now I think maybe it was because someone was looking for him. Or me?”
His hand rhythmically stroked her back. “What does your brother do?”
The frustration she’d been fighting with the better part of a year boiled up. “A year ago, I’d say he sold foreign and luxury items. He took over my father’s company when Dad died. Suddenly, he was going by Chase, not Eddie—his real name. It’s like he’s a rock star or gangster or something? He’s making new friends and keeping odd hours and more protective than ever. Chase decided to change things up. I don’t know exactly what he’s doing. I’m not sure I want to know. Last time I was home, something was wrong. Late night calls, people coming and going at all hours, Chase always stressed. And now shady guys with big knives are involved.” She paused. “I’m not sure that answered your question.”
Mal’s grunt was the only answer.
“I think my brother’s the bad guy, Mal.” She chewed on her lower lip, the sting of tears burning her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, you know? These people that did this to me—do I go to the police? Do I report them and, in all likelihood, hand my brother over as well?”
No answer.
“Are you listening?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he growled. “I’m listening to every damn word you’re saying. Give me a minute.” His arm tightened, just a little.
She smiled.
“This client in Alaska—do you know them?”
“No… Chase and I have money, Mal.” She lifted her head. “Do you think that’s what this was about? Money? Were they going to ransom me?”
“You’re moving,” he bit out.
She rested her head again, relaxing in his hold.
“It’s possible. Why was Chase there when you were attacked?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I had no idea he was coming. I had the flu and was walking across campus from the med clinic, and there he was, waving at me. Next thing, this guy pulled up in a van. He and Chase started talking, they fought, and the guys started shoving Chase. I ran up then, put myself between them, and you know what happened.”
“You didn’t hear anything they were saying?” he asked.
“Something about a bad shipment, not what he’d promised.” Olivia burrowed closer. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, her hand stroking his chest.
“No.” His hand covered hers, stilling it.
His heart beat under her ear, the steady thump a soothing lullaby. She’d almost drifted off when his voice woke her.
“Olivia? Did you hear me?” he asked.
“No,” she murmured.
