A hotel.
Her home was only a few miles away.She could have gone there.Instead, she’d locked herself away somewhere anonymous.That wasn’t just about a near hit-and-run.Something else was driving her.Something she didn’t want him—or anyone—to see.
He filed the detail away, though the unease it sparked dug in deep.Another piece of the puzzle.Another question without an answer.
Yanking open the refrigerator, he scanned the shelves without registering a single thing inside.His thoughts were moving too fast, trying to pull threads together, but every lead ended in the same dead end—Natalie was a mystery, and she was keeping it that way.
Then, without warning, another thought slipped in, unwanted but vivid:What would she like for breakfast?
It blindsided him, forcing a pause.He pictured her at his kitchen island, sunlight spilling over her hair, her laugh warming the room as she sipped coffee.The image tightened every muscle in his body, sending heat straight through him.He cursed under his breath.
And since he was only wearing jeans, the effect was impossible to ignore.Perfect.
“I’m making eggs,” he said sharply, the words more a defensive reflex than anything.“Tell the team.”
Tom gave a short nod and stepped away, his boots silent against the hardwood.Rylan didn’t notice him leave.He pulled out eggs, butter, and a few vegetables, forcing his mind into the rhythm of cooking.Crack, whisk, stir—anything to keep his hands busy and his thoughts from circling back to the feel of her mouth under his.
But it was useless.Even as he whisked hollandaise, his mind wandered to last night—the way she’d melted against him in the heat of the moment, the way she’d looked at him just before pulling away.That kiss hadn’t been a passing indulgence.It had lit something raw and consuming between them, and he wasn’t in the business of letting that kind of spark burn out.
Fifteen minutes later, he plated a near-perfect eggs Benedict—toast standing in for English muffins.He frowned at the swap and made a mental note to have the pantry restocked properly.
For when she’s here.
Because shewouldbe here.That wasn’t a question—it was a certainty.Last night had only confirmed what he’d already known: he wanted her, wanted her in his bed, wanted to strip away every layer of distance she tried to put between them.
But first, he needed her safe.
Carrying his plate out to the patio, he ate standing up, eyes fixed on the empty chair across from him.It wasn’t hard to imagine her there, teasing him over breakfast, one bare foot hooked on the rung of the chair as she reached for her coffee.
He ate without tasting a bite, his mind locked on the same question:Who the hell had tried to hurt her?
“Tom!”His voice cut through the still morning air, sharp enough to send a couple of birds scattering from the hedges.
A moment later, Tom appeared in the doorway, calm as ever.“You bellowed?”
Normally, Rylan might have smirked at the former Navy SEAL’s dry tone.Not today.
“What have you learned about last night?”The demand came out like a growl, his patience fraying at the edges.
Tom’s posture didn’t change.“We couldn’t get a license plate.The vehicle was a black sedan, tinted windows.No cameras inside the parking garage, so we’ve got no visual confirmation.I’ve contacted a friend in the local PD to pull nearby traffic cam footage, but there are dozens of matches.It’s a needle in a haystack.”
Rylan cursed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair hard enough to sting.
“I was able to track her credit card,” Tom continued.“When I saw she’d checked into a hotel, I sent Tony to keep eyes on her and Isim to watch her house for anything unusual.”
Rylan’s jaw eased a fraction.“Good work.”
Tom hesitated.Just long enough for Rylan’s gaze to narrow into a warning.“What is it?”
“She ordered security cameras for her house,” Tom admitted.“Cheap ones.Decent quality, but nothing close to top-of-the-line.That tells me she’s worried—but not in a way that started last night.”
Rylan’s focus snapped into razor clarity.“Explain.”
Tom crossed his arms, his voice steady but carrying weight.“If the parking garage incident spooked her enough to avoid her house, she’d have called the police, maybe upgraded her locks.Cameras at herhome?That means this isn’t just about the attempted hit-and-run.It’s about something she’s been uneasy about for a while.”He paused, his gaze unwavering.“And an attempted hit-and-run doesn’t automatically translate to a security upgrade at your front door.”
His meaning settled over Rylan like lead.“So you think something else happened.”
“I think something else hasbeen happening,” Tom corrected.“She’s just not talking about it.And if she hasn’t told the cops, she probably doesn’t want anyone knowing.Including us.”His mouth twisted into a faint grin.“And let’s not forget—she still thinks you’re engaged.”His tone hardened again.“Either way, we need to dig.She’s holding something back, and it could be the key to understanding why someone came after her last night.”
