Page 2 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“Thank you.” He gazed down at her with a conflicted expression, and she had the distinct impression that a war was waging within him over his decision to bring her here. She knew he hated putting her in harm’s way, and his intensity warned that he was seconds away from loading her back into the car and driving her home.

Bel squeezed his hand, their fingers still laced together as if they belonged forever locked as one, and tugged him toward the door. He’d brought her along for a reason, and while he might be worried about throwing her to the wolves, the same fear did not plague her. An alpha predator guarded her life. What were wealthy landowners to her monster?

Encouraged by her resolve, Eamon pounded on the ornately carved front door. Barely ten seconds passed before it flew open, and a panicked woman burst into view. She was young, still in her twenties, and stunningly beautiful, her blonde hair and expensive clothes perfectly styled. She would’ve looked like she stepped straight out of a magazine if it wasn’t for the redness circling her eyes and the terror painted like makeup across her features.

The woman lifted her gaze to Eamon’s face, distress woven through her expression, but the instant she recognized the hulking man, a strangled cry escaped her lips. She flung herself at him, and Eamon surprisingly returned the gesture, hugging the blonde tight. They stood locked together for a long moment, and Bel struggled to suffocate the green monster raging in her chest at their familiarity. She’d never heard Eamon talk aboutthis gorgeous woman, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, their embrace bothered her.

When they finally parted, the woman glanced at Bel, and the instant her eyes registered the scars, she scowled. Her distress morphed into disapproval, and she shot Eamon a razor-sharp glare.

“Who is this?” she demanded, as if Bel wasn’t standing two feet away. “What is she doing here? I didn’t ask?—”

“Wendy, this is my friend Bel,” Eamon said, recapturing Bel’s hand, and the use of her shortened name felt like a slap to her emotions. Eamon always called her Isobel, and hearing her nickname on his tongue sounded wrong. When his deep and whiskey-smooth voice addressed her, it was as if he was caressing her name, as if his speech was an intimate form of worship, but the three letters combined with the term,‘my friend,’settled uncomfortably in her gut. It also confirmed he was hiding who she was.

“Why would you bring your friend?” Wendy looked at Bel’s scars again with disgust, and Bel had the urge to pull her sweatshirt higher. She’d finally started to release her insecurities surrounding the disfigured skin, but the venom in this woman’s eyes brought it back tenfold.

“Because she can help.” Eamon’s voice escaped as a growl, and clearly registering the warning in his tone, Wendy visibly retreated as he pulled Bel protectively close. “Bel, this is Wendy Darling. I used to do business with her late father.”

Wendy Darling.Bel unconsciously sank against Eamon’s support. It wasn’t a term of endearment. It was her full name. She should’ve trusted he didn’t have eyes for anyone but her, and the jealousy coursing through her set her teeth on edge. It reminded her of the truth she tried so hard to ignore; the emotions threatening to drown her if she didn’t admit they’d grown out of control.

“Miss Darling, it’s nice to meet you.” Bel extended her free hand toward the woman, shoving her feelings back into their boxes even as Eamon clung to her. He always invaded her personal space, as if his emotional connection to her needed a physical manifestation, but this was different. Tension laced his grip. He was on alert, ready to drag her out of harm’s way the instant danger reared its head.

“I don’t understand how she can help,” Wendy said, ignoring Bel’s outstretched hand, and Bel could tell the slight bothered Eamon more than it did her.

“She’s an expert in…” he paused. “Difficult situations. So, if you want my help, Bel stays. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Fine, come in then.” Wendy turned and left without ceremony, and Bel threw Eamon a questioning look.

“Situation?”she mouthed as they followed their host through the decadent hallways.

“I don’t know much,” he whispered as they entered a living room that resembled a museum set more than a space of rest. “Just that it’s serious, and her father told her if anything ever happened, she could trust me.”

Bel nodded, a rock settling in her gut as Wendy stopped beside an incredibly handsome but too-polished man. He was tall, even if his height was dwarfed by Eamon’s, and while both men were wealthy, her beast possessed a more relaxed and dangerous appearance. He rarely wore dress clothes, and when he did, his black suits warned of danger, not wealth. This brunette with his trimmed beard portrayed the expected image of a millionaire, though, and once again, Bel felt wildly underdressed. Her plain wardrobe stuck out like a sore thumb, and she was grateful Eamon’s black ensemble mimicked her casual outfit. At least they found themselves out of place together.

“This is my fiancé… sorry, husband, Henry Night.” Wendy took the man’s hand. “I’m still getting used to that word.” She gazed at the man with love in her eyes, but Bel read the dread hovering behind her expression. Something terrible had happened in this house.

“Thank you for coming,” Henry said, addressing Eamon as both he and his young wife ignored Bel. “Wendy tells me you worked with her father. That he instructed her to call you if we needed someone to trust.”

“Mr. Darling was a good man,” Eamon said as he pulled Bel closer. Henry and Wendy’s eyes dipped to their joined hands with annoyance, and Bel had the distinct impression the couple assumed Eamon had dragged last night’s date along. Their disregard clearly angered him, and being viewed poorly would’ve bothered her as well if she didn’t sense the underlying tension seeping through the house. There was a reason Eamon wanted a secret cop present, and that knowledge forced her to ignore their hosts’ slights.

“Wendy said she couldn’t talk over the phone, so I came as fast as I could,” Eamon continued. “What happened?”

“Who’s your friend?” Henry glanced disapprovingly at Bel. “This is a sensitive situation and a private family matter. Strangers shouldn’t be involved.”

“Bel can help.” Eamon’s tone bled from his lips in a warning. “I trust her with my life, and she has experience in situations like this. Her expertise will be more valuable than mine,” he said, guiding her to a couch with deliberate movements to emphasize his point. Bel was staying by his side.

“I don’t know.” Henry turned to his wife. “You know what he said. Plus, I’m not comfortable trusting a stranger with this.”

Bel watched the couple’s interaction, and the moment Henry said‘what he said’,Wendy flinched. She tried to hide it, but little escaped Bel’s detective instincts. Whatever was happening wasserious, and if Eamon felt a police officer should be involved, then this couple needed to start speaking.

“Miss Darling. Mr. Night,” she said, the firmness of her tone stilling their hosts where they stood. “Something’s clearly wrong, so please tell me before we waste any more time. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Wendy glanced between the two men with uncertainty, and then she sank to the opposite couch in defeat. “It’s my brothers,” she said, bursting into tears. “They’ve been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?”Bel and Eamon blurted simultaneously.

“Have you called the police?” Bel shifted to the edge of the couch, readying to dial Sheriff Griffin the instant the couple answered her question.

“No,” Wendy said.

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