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Once I have a handful of images to choose from, I send them off and put my phone away.
“Feel free to make yourself at home,” I tell her. “You can take the bedroom tonight.”
“And where are you planning to sleep?”
“The couch.”
Willow shakes her head. “No, that’s not right. I can take the couch.”
“I’ve spent weeks sleeping in a foxhole. The couch is a luxury to me. Besides, you’re my principle now, which means your safety and comfort are my top priority.”
A small smile ghosts across her lips. “I guess I probably shouldn’t argue with my bodyguard.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
Willow combs her fingers through her hair again, a nervous tick. “Would it be okay if I use your shower? The place I stayed at last night had terrible water pressure.”
I gesture to the other end of the suite. “As I said, make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, Zane. For all of this.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Willow.”
She nibbles her bottom lip sheepishly before scurrying off to the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. I don’t make a move until I hear the rush of water and the hum of the bathroom fan.
I take a seat, my mind in overdrive.
This is a mess.
I’m glad I was able to convince Willow to stay, but I’m basically working in the dark here. It’s clear there’s more going on than meets the eye, but I’m worried she’ll clam up on me—or even leave—if I push her too hard. For now, all I can do is help her keep a low profile until the heat fizzles out.
My phone rings.
At first, I think it’s Andy getting back to me about the passport, but then I see my daughter’s name and picture pop up on screen.
“Hey, Dad!” she greets in her usual sing-song manner. In the background, the electric whir of a blender and a TV set at the highest volume. “Just wanted to call to say hi! Mom and I are having a mojitos night. We’re putting candy cane bits in them.”
“Sounds festive,” I reply.
“What about you? Are you living it up in Vegas? I hope Uncle Heath is keeping out of trouble.”
“You know for a fact he isn’t. I’m pretty sure he’s made it his goal to give Uncle Knox at least one heart attack by the end of our trip.”
“Are you at least having fun?” my daughter asks me. “I know you’re an all-work-no-play kind of guy.”
“It’s been… eventful.”
“Ooh, sounds like you have a story. I need details, Dad! Let me guess—met a pretty lady at a strip joint?”
I clear my throat. “If I did, you’d be the last to know, sweetheart.”
Anna giggles. “Lighten up, Dad. I’m only teasing you.”
“Did you get the Christmas gift I sent you?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It arrived earlier today. Thank yousomuch. You really didn’t have to get me a new laptop. Those new MacBook’s cost an arm and a half.”
“You’re starting your final year of college. I want to make sure you have everything you need to make it as easy as possible.”
