Page 47 of Conrad

Who was trying to get away? Not her.

Definitely not her.

She pulled into the garage, then grabbed her bag, stepped out, and shut the car door.

“Nice digs,” he said. “It looks vintage.”

“It was built in 1927. The basement has low ceilings, but it’s cozy. I redid the office—actually gutted the entire house. One bedroom up, another on the main floor, great room, new kitchen.”

“Security?”

For some reason, she put a hand on his arm. Hello, muscles. “Yes, King Con, there is security.” She held up her remote and clicked a button. “Activated. Happy?”

“I’d prefer twenty-four-seven close protection, but . . .” He lifted a shoulder.

He didn’t look like he was kidding.

She slid into his passenger seat. Neat car, smelled recently detailed. He glanced at her. “Directions?” He turned on his display, and she read off the address. He keyed it in and pulled out.

Her father had a garage of higher-end sports cars. Not that the Charger was out of the ordinary, but it rumbled like her father’s McLaren 720S.

Silence from her date beside her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“We haven’t found anything yet.”

“Still. My sister thinks I’m obsessed . . . and maybe I am, a little.”

He glanced at her. “Bullet holes in the wall. Doesn’t sound obsessed to me.”

“Right?” She sighed. “What I don’t get is why she’snotobsessed. It was her fiancé.”

“Maybe she just needs to walk away from it.” He’d taken a few shortcuts through the neighborhood, like he knew it, and merged onto the highway headed into the city. “My brother Doyle has been stuck for years since his fiancée died. He’s finally moving on, so . . . Maybe it’s her way of coping with her grief.”

“I didn’t know Doyle was engaged.”

“She died in an accident on the way to the wedding.”

Her eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes.” He blew out a breath. “It’s a long story, but maybe letting it go is the best thing for your sister.”

He left out anything aboutherletting it go, however. Still . . . “Edward wasn’t my sister’s fiancé but my best friend, at least growing up. We did everything together—he was the son of our housekeeper. My dad actually helped pay his way through college, and then he went to grad school at MIT on a scholarship. Really smart. Developed an AI system. I think he was getting some offers—high offers. Anyway, I . . .” She glanced at him. “I may have had a crush on him in high school.”

Conrad’s mouth made a grim line. He looked at her. “Sorry for your loss.”

Oh.She hadn’t expected the sweep of heat into her chest, the tightening of her throat. “Usually people say that to Tia.”

“I’m sure.” Then he took his hand off the wheel, reached out and caught hers. “You still lost someone you loved.”

He let go, but his gesture lingered. She looked out the window. Nodded. Drew a breath. “It was more than that, I think.” She drew in a breath, glanced at him. “Edward was the one who found me when I was kidnapped.”

SIX

By some grace of heaven,he didn’t react to the wordkidnapped. Mostly because the last thing Penelope needed, probably, was him looking at her with what he knew might be horror in his eyes.

But seriously,kidnapped?

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