Page 90 of Lost in the Moonlight

“No.” But then I hesitated. Had Felicity hired the guy in the sedan? The guy on the street who’d looked at me with such unabashed anger? I’d thought he’d been angry over politics or just was naturally pissed off at life. But then I remembered what Felicity had said to Katerina about the small town I was in, and my fear grew. Maybe this was someone else she’d hired to hunt me down. “I don’t think so, but that’s an avenue whoever comes to work for me will have to consider. Do you know anyone who can get here tonight?”

“Reinard doesn’t have anyone near you, but our partner company, Garner Security, is based out of D.C. Let me call Wayne and Axel and have one of them contact you. Is this the number you want me to give them?” Holden asked.

“That would be great,” I said, inhaling sharply. “And thanks. I appreciate it.”

We hung up, and I held on to Willow, wishing I could go back and redo those few moments when we’d been out in the open and I hadn’t taken enough precautions. I’d been living a fairy tale, hoping the magic of the town could keep me hidden. But I should have known better. Shouldn’t have expected the quiet to last. And now my slipup could cost me Willow. Even worse, it could cost her the entire world she and her mom had built for themselves out of the rubble of their old one.

? ? ?

It took almost three hours before a black Escalade with tinted windows showed up at the curb. During that time, I’d fielded several calls from Mom and Dad. Between Merci and Dad’s team, they’d gotten the article nixed, but they couldn’t get anyone to cough up the source. I ignored several texts from both my sisters and repeated ones from Lyrica. Damn Merci had told her about the pictures. Maybe even shot her off a few to prove a point. If I couldn’t keep my own damn family from sharing them, how would we stop the wolflike media from going in for the kill?

I’d prevented Willow from retreating to the cottage only by causing her more fear. By telling her whoever had taken the pictures might see her. That I needed the team I’d hired to clear the area. She hadn’t called the Marshals, but she’d left a message on her mom’s phone for her to call back. I could practically feel her self-reproach weighing her down as much as it dragged at me.

Now, I watched on my security app as four men slipped into the darkness surrounding the house just like the Secret Service used to. The fact I was letting them back in my life bit at me. The lack of privacy and knowing everything I did was going to be watched all over again made my neck crawl. But I’d do it. I’d give up every ounce of my privacy if it ensured Willow’s safety.

The last man to get out of the SUV walked up to the front door, eyed the broken pane, and then rang the bell, staring directly into the camera. I let him in and showed him into the kitchen where Willow and I had retreated with the blinds all shut and cups of tea in hand.

The man stood well over six feet, even a few inches over me, and was built like a cage fighter with hair darker than mine that showed off golden eyes. His nose had clearly been broken without being reset, and his jawline screamed an arrogant, confident swagger I’d seen mostly from soldiers in special forces.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked him.

“No. Thank you.” He took in Willow, and unlike the Secret Service agent who’d shown up yesterday, the assessing gaze didn’t curl through me. He was eyeing her like I eyed an art piece I was considering for the gallery. Like a job. He stuck his hand out to her. “Axel Garner. I’m sorry you’ve been having trouble. I’m here to ensure it stops.”

“Whether the guy leaving us notes is also the person who took the pictures or not, we need to stop both from happening again. It’s imperative we keep Willow’s pictures out of the press,” I told him.

While we’d waited for the team to show up, Willow and I had argued about how much to tell them. I’d wanted to tell them the whole story. The Chicago gang, the notes, Poco, everything. If we didn’t, they wouldn’t know what to look out for and mightbe caught by surprise, but Willow had been adamant that telling them she was in witness protection had to be left off the table.

Axel took the decision away from us. His gold eyes landed on me before they went back to Willow. “Because you’re in WITSEC.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and Willow’s eyes turned wide. “Who told you that?”

“Your history did. I’ve had a team digging into both of you from the moment Mr. Matherton called.”

“It’s Lincoln. And I didn’t ask you to do that.” My irritation grew, wondering if this was just another colossal mistake. We could have waited for Hardy, or I could have let her call the Marshals. But if she did, I’d never see her again.

Damn it, maybe that was the only right answer. Maybe the only way for me to ensure she was safe was to push her as far away from me as possible. Even as the thought landed, Sienna materialized behind Willow, shaking her head violently, and I heard her voice in my head,Don’t be daft. She’s the one, Lincoln. She needs you. You need her. Stick it out.

When my gaze moved back to the live people in the room, they were both watching me stare at the air.

Axel’s eyes narrowed in on me. “I don’t take on a job without fully understanding what I’m getting my team into any more now than I did in my Army Ranger days.”

“If you figured it out, does that mean others might have as well?” Willow asked shakily.

“Highly unlikely, but not impossible. I worked several cases with the Marshals in my past life. I know how they work. Your backstop is almost perfect. Maybe a bit too perfect, actually. We can fix that easily enough. Who are you hiding from?”

Willow’s hands tightened on the teacup, and she looked to me and away before swallowing and giving him the highlights of her dad’s murder and the trouble with the Viceroys. I was hit all over again with how brave she was. How brave she’d been at sixteen in a closet or at twenty testifying at the trial. Her strength was more than admirable. Even still, I could see it upset her, talking about it again. I wanted to hold her, but she’d pulled back emotionally and physically from me while waiting for Garner’s men to show up. And maybe that was what we both needed. Time to calm down. Time to figure out how to keep her safe without the heady throb of desire overwhelming our senses.

“It should be over,” she added softly after finishing the story. “But a few days ago, the Marshals told us Roci Vitale had been killed in prison, and then, I started getting the notes.”

She showed him photos of the notes Special Agent Johnson had picked up.

“Why haven’t the Marshals moved you?” Axel asked with a frown. After Willow and I exchanged another look, he added, “You haven’t told them.”

Willow set the cup down and told him about Poco and how we’d hoped that it had to do with him rather than anything from Chicago. I added on what Hardy had found out about Poco’s whereabouts and how he could have used one of his men to throw the rocks.

Axel tapped his fingers along the table almost as if he was typing on a keyboard. “I’ll have my people reach out to Hardy and follow up on Poco. We don’t have anyone on the ground in Chicago, especially not inside the local street gangs, but I’ll see what we can do.”

Willow’s shoulders slumped, and the way her naturally smiling lips were curved down ate at me. I slid my hand intohers, squeezing it reassuringly before turning to Axel and asking, “What else do you need from us?”

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