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“Good.” He pulled out of me and held me to his chest so tightly I almost pushed away. “I promise I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”
I rolled over, so he spooned me, his comment inserting a small slice of doubt between us. I had, for the moment, forgotten the threats against me. Forgotten that being with a man like him brought dangers best left for the dark, quiet recesses of my heart.
* * *
Splintered raysof sun shone through gray clouds as I rolled over in the big bed. Rhys was already gone. I got out and found a black silk robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Slipping it on, I headed downstairs.
Rhys was in deep conversation with his assistant. He was already showered and dressed in a crisp navy suit for the day. They stopped talking when they saw me. “Good, you’re up, darling. Dafydd was able to schedule an appointment with your counselor this morning.”
“Thank you,” I said to the older gentleman. He was tall and broad and, quite frankly, a little imposing. His receding salt and pepper hairline surrounded a blocky, dour face.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Bardot.”
“I have an important meeting this morning I have to attend, so Dafydd will take you,” Rhys explained.
I looked between the two men. “I can go myself.”
“No, you won’t,” Rhys said. “It’s not safe.”
“I’m only leaving you because I have no choice, but you will be safe with Dafydd, and we will meet up afterward.”
The slice of doubt from last night grew into a wedge as my uncertainty returned. Rhys handed me a cup of coffee. “I should go change,” I said, biting the skin around my thumb. “Thanks for the coffee.” I headed upstairs and turned on the shower, getting in and letting the water roll off me. I needed to focus on my job and the missing girls. They were my anchor in this crazy storm, and until their story was told, I could not get off course. Feeling slightly emboldened, I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around me. Rhys was waiting for me in the bedroom.
“Don’t shut down on me, Navy,” he said.
“I’m not. I just need to get back to work.”
“And you are. You’ll be safe with Dafydd. I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t think you would be,” he tried reassuring me.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re a horrible liar. Remember last night, fy merch hardd. Hold it in your heart. I will meet you as soon as I’m done with my meeting, and we will go back to St. Ishmaels.” He kissed me hard, stealing my breath.
My jeans and sweater had been washed and were neatly folded on the dresser. I changed quickly and met Dafydd downstairs. We took the elevator down to the garage, and he opened the back door of the Land Rover, helping me in. His suit jacket was open, and I spotted a gun holstered in a leather strap around his chest. He must have noticed me looking because he shut the door and fastened the button on his jacket.
Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to a large brick building. Dafydd got out and opened my door, following me to the entrance. “I can take it from here,” I said.
“I’m not to leave you alone,” he answered gruffly.
“No one will speak to me if you’re listening.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he repeated.
He opened the main door, holding it for me. I shook my head and went in, taking the stairs to the third floor with him on my heels. Four offices occupied this floor. London Therapy was painted on a plaque in whimsical letters. I went in and registered with the receptionist. “I have an appointment with Ms. Davies,” I said. “Navy Bardot.”
The receptionist handed me a clipboard. “Fill this out.”
“Oh, I’m not a patient.”
A door opened, and a sophisticated woman in a tailored suit poked her head out. “Ah. You must be the reporter. Come in,” she said. “I’m Maureen Davies.”
I headed into her office with Dafydd behind me. “Not you,” she said to him. “Unless, of course, you’re the photographer.” Her eyebrows raised, offering a questioning gaze.
“He’s not,” I said.
