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The automated glass doors slid open. People began to file out, carting luggage and carrying plastic carrier bags.
Devon craned her neck to look for her parents. Some passengers dashed over to members of the crowd while others breezed by and headed out. She danced from foot to foot, waiting. And waiting. And then Russell shuffled through the doors, grumbling to his mate about something while having some sort of fight with the handle of his suitcase.
Warmth blooming inside her, Devon’s lips twitched. He often grumbled. And sighed. And rolled his eyes. And shook his head in consternation. Yet, it was all somehow endearing. Russell was like a grouchy but cuddly teddy bear. And he seemed to have made it his life’s mission to leave his beloved armchair as little as possible. But every year without fail, the imp took his mate away for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary.
Unlike him, Gertie was always on the move. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, pottering around, working as a cook at the local school. She loved flea markets and garage sales; could sniff out a bargain a mile away—which Russell loved, because he was a major tight-ass.
Gertie often called him lazy and bone-idle, but it really didn’t bother her much. Probably because the hellcat had her own way of doing things and didn’t like anyone interfering. She also didn’t look much like Devon’s mother, despite that she was Pamela’s older sister.
His gaze found Devon and he brightened. “There she is.” Reaching her, he curled his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Hello, beautiful.”
Gertie kissed her other cheek. “Sweetheart, how are you?”
“Happy to see you both,” replied Devon. “How was New York?”
“Hectic. Rainy. We loved it. Of course, your father got us lost several times.”
“I was taking the scenic routes,” Russell defended. “I don’t get lost. I have a pigeon’s instinct.”
“You need a sat nav just to cross the street,” Gertie teased. “Not that you leave your precious chair often enough to do it.”
Russell huffed at her and then turned to Devon, who forced a smile. Whatever he saw on her face made him frown. “Something’s wrong.”
The man was far too observant. “I’ll tell you about it in the car.” Devon took the suitcase. “Come on, I’m parked at the terminal.” As she drove to their house, she relayed the entire story. Furious, they launched questions at her and berated her for not calling them. “If I’d told you about it, you’d have ended your trip early, and for what? There was nothing you could have done.”
“That’s not the point,” clipped Russell. “You’re our daughter—we have every right to know if you’re in danger.”
“You should have called, Devon,” insisted Gertie, her lips thin. “You’d expect the same from us.”
Devon sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Gertie made a pfft sound. “No, you’re not. You didn’t want us to come home early in case the trouble touched us, did you?”
“I was kind of hoping it would be resolved by the time you got back,” said Devon. “Hopefully Lockwood can shine some light on a few things, though I’m not optimistic about it.”
Gertie nibbled on her lip. “Have you told Drew about this?”
Devon eased her foot on the pedal as they approached a red light. “I’ll tell him when it’s over. The last thing I want is him in the general vicinity of Knox and Harper.” Her brother cared for Harper in his way and, jealous that she was mated to Knox, had tried coming between them—that hadn’t ended well for Drew at all. And since he wasn’t someone who learned his lessons easily, she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t try it again.
Finally, she reached her parents’ house. Devon helped them haul the luggage inside, doing her best to ignore the disappointed looks they gave her. She’d expected their anger, and she figured they had a right to it, so she didn’t comment.
As Russell headed straight to his beloved armchair in the living room, Gertie rolled her eyes. “How did I know he’d do that? It’s just typical that he’d … What’s that on your hand?” She grasped Devon’s palm and studied the mark there. Her brows lifted. “Well, I’m guessing it was Harper’s bodyguard who marked you. I’ve seen the way you two are with each other.”
Devon had not just blushed. “Let’s not talk about the pooch.”
Gertie’s mouth quirked just a little. “Fine. How about some tea? Or maybe vodka. I always feel better after a shot of vodka.”
“I’m good with tea—I’m driving.”
Gertie’s smile faltered. “God, Devon, I’m so worried about you. I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”
And this was another reason why she hadn’t called her parents. Gertie was the type to obsess over things. Devon put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you not to worry—that would be stupid and pointless. But please know that I’m being as careful as I can be. And I’m not in this alone. I have more people protecting me than my ego can take, actually.”
