Page 89 of Lost in the Moonlight

My phone vibrated with more photos. In addition to the one of us leaving the house, there was one of us walking side by side out of The Tea Spot and one of her trapped between me and the handlebar of the cart at the grocery store. I was disguised in two of them with my stupid hat and glasses, but Willow shined in every single damn one of them.

If these got out, the press would never let it go until they’d figured out who she was and why I was with her. Even if her witness protection cover story held, her picture would be right there for Aaron and the Viceroys to find. I didn’t believe the notes were from them. I believed, like Willow had, a brutal street gang wasn’t the kind to leave notes. They’d have taken a goddamn shot from the shadows. But even if it hadn’t been them leaving the notes, they’d easily be able to find her now.

“I’ll never understand why the hell they care about me! What does it matter who I date and for how long? There’s no juicy story here, Mom.”

She sighed, and I could almost imagine her running a single, elegant finger over an equally elegant brow. I’d picked the habit up from her, or maybe it was in our DNA.

“You know why, Lincoln. Americans crave their own royals to love and bash. You and your father are charming, attractivemen. They want the gossip about you. You haven’t made a single statement after Felicity’s restraining order leaked. You simply disappeared from sight, and it left a vacuum they’re desperate to fill. They’ve tossed around suicide attempts and rehab rumors. Merci read me a completely absurd one the other day where Felicity had you locked in her basement like that woman from the Stephen King book.”

My chest grew tighter. Had I encouraged this? The mad search for Lincoln Matherton? Had I put Willow at risk even more than I’d realized because they were desperate to find me?

The guilt I’d recently thought I might be able to shed over Sienna and Lyrica, that Willow herself had handed me, came rushing back. I wouldn’t let anything happen to Willow because of my choices. Screw that.

“Who is the Sienna look-alike?” Mom asked, sounding suddenly more weary and tired than she had in years, as tired as she’d been after she’d dragged me away from Lyrica’s bedside after she’d been shot.

I realized she was just concerned, but irritation still flew through me, knowing all she saw when she looked at Willow was Sienna. They were nothing alike. Nothing. Sienna was all bluster and storm. Willow was quiet strength. Not any weaker, maybe even stronger because she was required to live her life without being seen.

I knew if I denied the physical similarity between them, if I went on the defensive, it would only make Mom think it was why I was with her. Just like Willow herself had thought it last night until I’d convinced her otherwise. So, instead of addressing who Willow was and why I was with her, I focused on the problem.

“Mom, I need to know who sold all of those photos.”

Willow’s head jerked toward me, her face incredibly pale as fear drifted over her like a veil.

“You know it’s impossible. They’ll never reveal their source, even if we convince them not to run them.”

Willow twisted my phone, and on seeing the additional photos Mom had sent, she went even paler. “Oh my God…”

“Lincoln?” Mom’s voice demanded my attention, and I lifted the phone back to my ear.

“Get Dad’s people on it, Mom. The Secret Service, his communication people. I need to know who did this. Where they are. I’ll pay to stop them from taking more.” I heard the wild frenzy in my voice, knew she’d snag onto it too, but it was the truth.

“Before, I was just concerned because you hadn’t told us you were seeing anyone and because she looks so much like Sienna. Now, I’m really worried. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t talk about it. But we need to stop whoever this is. Right now. Tonight.”

“I need an explanation, but for now, let me place some more calls.” She hung up without another word.

I turned to Willow. “I’m so sorry. I’m… Damnit, I didn’t think they’d find me so soon. Not like this. I thought we had time. I never would have risked going out to the store with you if I had. Mom is stopping it. She thinks she can. And we’ll find out who it is. We’ll keep them from taking any more.”

I wouldn’t just rely on my mom, and I couldn’t bring Hardy in again, but I could hire someone else. My own damn security. An investigator.

“With the notes…and now this…” her voice cracked. “God… Mom…”

I pulled her into me, and she went rigid before finally resting her forehead on my chest. I surrounded her the best I could, trying to provide some kind of comfort. Some sort of peace.

“It doesn’t matter if it was Poco now or if it was just his thugs last night,” she said as her whole body trembled. I hated that it was because someone had made money off my life once again and sold me out to the press. “As soon as it breaks, the Marshals will move us.”

“We still have time to stop it. All of it.” Holding Willow with one arm, I flicked through the contacts on my phone until I found Leya.

Within seconds of explaining what I needed, she’d handed me off to her husband. Before he’d fallen madly in love with her, Holden had once been the lead agent on Leya’s Secret Service detail. He’d walked away from his career to be at her side and was now heading up her band’s security.

“I need a security team that can be here tonight.”

“Hardy will come back if you ask,” Holden said.

“That will take paperwork and time I don’t have. Plus, he’ll be governed by rules I have no intention of following.”

He hesitated. “Do you think this is Felicity again?”

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