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“Liam—” Her voice was barely audible, and her hand still holding mine tightened.
The car lurched to a stop, halting anything else she wanted to say. I felt both relieved and disappointed.
“You’ll be safe here.” The door opened, and one of my men appeared, ready to help her out. “I have to go to the hospital.”
My tone was cold, but I had to douse whatever was simmering between us with cold water. Neither of us would survive the inferno if we let it ignite.
Her usual happy glow slipped off her face, but she didn’t argue. “Okay. I’ll see you later?” Her tone was hopeful, and I nearly broke.
“Maybe. I have a lot of work to do. But my family will take good care of you.”
Nodding, she slid along the seat. “Of course. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
I balled my hands into fists and clenched my teeth at the forced formalities.
Nim, our housekeeper, was already waiting, greeting her like a long-lost family member. She’d be fine.
And if I told myself that often enough, I might even believe it.
7
Quinn
“You must be Quinn,” an older woman with gray-streaked hair greeted me as soon as I was out of the limousine. “Freya talks about you all the time.”
I held out my hand, and she took it in hers. “I’m Nim, the housekeeper.” She linked her arm with mine and led me into the house. “You must have been so scared, but don’t worry. You’re safe now.”
The thought that something worse could have happened after the fire started made me shiver.
Nim rubbed my arm. “Are you cold?” She hastened her steps. “Let’s get you inside. I made pie.”
We entered a kitchen that smelled of cinnamon and baked apples. The open space held two fridges, a kitchen island big enough to double as a king-size bed, and rows of cupboards and counters. But somehow it managed to seem homely. Maybe it was the cluttered space, half-opened flour, apple peel, and various pots and pans on the stove.
Nim pulled out a barstool and patted the leather. “Have a seat.” She turned to the counter, looking at me over her shoulder. “Do you want a drink?”
“I’m okay. But do you think I could call Freya?”
“Of course, honey.” She held out a cell phone. “You can call from my phone.”
She brought up Freya’s contact and handed the phone to me. I hit dial, but there was no answer. I left a brief message telling Freya I was thinking about her and her family and letting her know about my phoneless state.
After I put the phone on the marble counter, I sank into the soft padding of the stool and shook my head. “Do you actually think someone was trying to hurt me?”
“They most definitely weren’t there for a chat.”
I startled at the deep voice, clutching the counter to avoid falling off the stool. Sitting back upright, my cheeks flaming from embarrassment, I turned around to see the impossibly handsome face of one of Liam’s brothers.
“Sorry for startling you,” Jude said, trademark smirk in place. His boyish smile was endearing, and I guessed him to be around my age, making him almost a decade younger than his brother. Liam was in his thirties, something I’d found out from Freya, who always complained that he needed to settle down before he hit forty.
I remembered Jude from when he came to Freya’s rescue in Ferguson. He looked so much like Liam that he could even be his younger twin. They had the same shade of dark hair and glowing amber eyes. Their sharp, masculine features were nearly identical, though I guessed Liam to be a few inches taller.
Jude raised an eyebrow at my obvious study of him, and I flushed. He saved the moment from turning awkward by pointing behind him. “Someone give you the tour yet?”
Lowering my gaze, I tried to calm my heated face. “Not yet.”
“Come on, then. I’ll show you around.”
I was curious about the house. The kitchen and foyer had been impressive, and I could only guess at what else there was.
