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CHAPTER6
Penelope
After five days,my limp is less pronounced. Small twinges zing through my ankle as I roam the house. I’ve gone outside and walked around, grateful I’m not imprisoned. Four walls are four walls if I can’t leave. I stick close to the house where it’s flat and walk up and down the driveway. All separate trips. I told myself it was to keep from injuring my ankle further, but the truth is I’m bored.
I have no lessons to plan. I can’t touch base with Pierre or Juan Pablo. I’ve talked to both London and Holland through Jacobi’s secure line. Cannon’s in his office most of the day. I’ve explored the house, all except for the locked room downstairs.
I take the stairs down slowly. I would wait another week to do this, but I’ve wrapped my ankle and I’ve taken some acetaminophen. I might regret it tonight when the effects wear off, but I’m really fucking bored.
I’m used to moving all day. Driving where I want to go. Going from kid to kid and moving around the studio to see different angles. My own dancing. Now I’m stuck somewhere. I can’t dance. I can’t yet move around a lot. I’m going crazy.
The lower level is open, with one closed-off room that I can see, a bathroom, and a family area that’s been converted to a gym.
What’s behind the locked door? I hobble over to it and sit on the weight bench against the wall next to it. Is that where Cannon keeps his weapons?
I didn’t get the impression he was into guns. I’ve seen him with one. Is that normal for private investigators? For guys who did what he did in the military and then as a contractor? Is it a money issue? Guns can’t be cheap. Isn’t ammunition expensive too?
But this cabin? In the mountains?
No, I don’t think money is an issue. I think Cannon tried to be something in life that he wasn’t, but he had to hang on to part of it until he figured out where his path led. Then I happened.
I scoot back and put my leg up. I don’t know that much more about him than I did when we arrived. I’d love to break inside and have a peek, see if that room holds his secrets, but this isn’t my house. He’s done too much for me to be a rude guest.
Cannon appears at the bottom of the stairs. They aren’t creaky steps, but he moves so quietly. It’s not practiced. It’s like it comes naturally.
“What are you doing down here?” He prowls toward me.
We haven’t touched since I’ve been able to move around on my own. We sleep in the same bed, and we each pretend like we don’t know what the other tastes like. It suits me as much as it frustrates me.
“I’m restless. What’s in that room?”
His gaze bores into the door, and I struggle to identify the emotions playing over his face. Resentment. Longing. Discomfort.
What the hell is behind that door?
“That room has no use,” he says with a tone of finality.
“You could have more captives in there and I wouldn’t know it.” My joke falls flat, and I grimace.
He crosses his arms, a deep furrow going between his brows. “Busted. I go around saving women from the husbands who put out hits on them.”
I bite back a smile. I’ve seen more hints of his sense of humor since he rescued me than I have since I’ve known him. “I knew I wasn’t your one and only. There must be, what? Two or three more wives behind that door?”
“I do this so much I’ve lost count.”
“Four million apiece. You can buy each one of them their own cabin.”
“Nah, I raised my rates with you. I do quality work—I should get paid for it.” His blue eyes twinkle, and I laugh.
It’s the closest he’s come to a genuine smile. And it’s because of me.
Warmth infuses my body. “I can be a reference.”
He crosses to the door and tries the handle like he’s making sure it’s locked. He doesn’t want me in there. My curiosity rises, but this is his place and I won’t push.
“I thought maybe you keep your guns in there.” That could explain his expression when his gaze touches on the door. “What do soldiers carry? Machine guns?”
“Nah, I don’t keep many firearms.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats. They’re not as baggy as sweats. Juan Pablo wears a similar style and calls them his dance pants. They’re a common style in my world, but they look good on Cannon. His thick legs fill out the pants more than Juan Pablo would, but he’s still long and lean.
