Page 24 of End Game

A nervous habit. A tell. One that had escape written all over it.

Setting aside her own wishes, she took pity on him. “I’m fine now. There’s no need for you to babysit me any longer.”

“I’m not worried about your head. I know how hard it is.”

She lifted one brow at the insult. “What are you worried about then?”

“Unwanted visitors.”

“You really think the bullet that took”— she cleared her throat, still unable to say the words —“was meant for me?”

“It would be unwise to rule it out.”

“The house alarm system is armed and there are surveillance cameras all around the property. There’s no sense in you staying any longer.”

“That’s a lot of security.”

“Your point?”

“Seems like you were anticipating trouble.”

“There’s always a losing side in what I do. And the loser is never my client.” She knew the statement sounded arrogant, but she spoke the truth. Not everyone accepted losing. “I also have a sizable art collection in the house, if you recall.”

“Which is why I’m crashing on your couch tonight.”

“What?” She bolted upright and got a meat cleaver through the brain for her efforts.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Krowne. Your virtue is safe with me.”

Pity.

He sat in the middle of her sofa, balancing his pistol on his leg.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

Although she couldn’t see his eyes in the gloom, she felt their thorough glide down her body, as if he could see through layers of bedding and clothes.

“There are worse ways a man could spend his evening.”

10

The morning was already in full swing by the time Kayla eased her legs over the side of the bed. A situation she occasionally indulged in on the weekends, but never during the workweek. Evidently, experiencing not one but two traumatic events in a single evening had a sedative effect on her.

She still wore her black leggings and tee. Her hair had escaped its tie and now fell around her face and she was tempted to stay hidden behind the blond veil, but that wasn’t her way.

Unable to put the moment off a second longer, she brushed her hair aside and turned toward the sofa, only to find it empty. She scanned the rest of the room for Ash’s tall, imposing figure, but found no evidence of him anywhere. Crispy had abandoned her, too.

If not for her Kevlar vest draped over one of the high-backed chairs near the cold fireplace, and the tender spot on her head, she might have convinced herself that last night had been nothing but a vivid nightmare.

She didn’t know whether to feel relief or disappointment at finding Ash gone. It had taken awhile for her to fall asleep last night, not being used to having others in her private space. But once she succumbed, she’d slept through the night, though her dream state mind produced a vivid reenactment of the governor’s assassination, replacing Vicky’s face with Ash’s .

Rising, she padded across the expansive room and pushed open the curtains. Rather than her normal adrenaline-pumping anticipation to get the day started, she felt a strange nervousness.

A reluctance.

The small display of pictures lining the mantel drew her attention. One photo near the middle snagged her attention. A younger version of herself smiled at the camera, her arms wrapped around Sybil and Elsie on her left and Jillian and Vicky on her right. The Hungarian Parliament building’s imposing red dome and stunning Gothic towers soared above their heads as they drifted along the Danube River, day one of their weeklong getaway to celebrate Kayla’s twenty-fifth birthday.

The trip that changed her life, her worldview, forever.

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