KATE
“I just want to say,for the record, I neverofficiallymet Mr. Bradshaw before my first day as his personal assistant at Bradshaw Enterprises.”
A montage of the night I boldly approached him at Divine Taste flashes through my mind. For a brief moment, I worry they have some kind of new mind-reading technology and can see what I’m thinking about.
That’s ridiculous.
“So, the woman in these photographs with Mr. Bradshaw inside his Dallas penthouse—two days prior to your first day at Bradshaw Enterprises—isn’t you?” The agent shoves a stack of eight-by-ten photos toward me, the first one a very clear image of Luke standing behind me as I face out the window of his bedroom...in nothing but my royal-blue lingerie.
I swallow, looking up into the cool gaze of the blonde woman wearing a striped gray suit and white button-down. She must be playing the bad cop.
“Uh, well, it wasn’t?—”
“Tell me about the man who tried to kill you,” she interrupts.
My arm is no longer bandaged, and Jackson removed the stitches yesterday. The cut is still bright pink.
I smile in an attempt to let her know I’m not intimidated by her or her suit even if I am wearing a pink sundress and wedges and have dried ink on my fingers.
“I got back to my best friend’s apartment, where I’d been staying since my boyfriend had slept with my roommate, and this guy in a black ski mask was already there, waiting for me. I tripped over a pair of heels, and he stabbed my arm instead of my chest.”
I’m gesturing with my arms to demonstrate, but her face is stone cold.
Tough crowd, yikes.
“So, obviously, I screamed, but then Luke rushed in, and theyfoughtover me. He ended up stabbing the guy, but I passed out from the blood loss, I guess. I don’t remember him carrying me out, but I woke up in the back of a moving car with Jackson stitching up my arm. Then, Luke took me to a safe house on his private jet. It wasverysecluded.”
“Where was this safe house?”
She doesn’t seem to be the romantic type.
A normal person would swoon hearing this story.
“I don’t know exactly, somewhere farther north. It was cooler than here.”
I don’t think Luke would want me to share that it was in North Carolina, so I don’t.
“What did Luke Bradshaw reveal to you about his time as a Navy SEAL?”
“Umm . . . nothing important. I don’t know anything about Steelhart, honestly.”
Her eyes snap to mine, as she’s clearly interested in the fact that I know the name of the mission Reid died on.
“One last question, Miss Dawson. Where is Luke Bradshaw now?”
“Okay, I really have no idea. He didn’t tell me where he was going. I miss him.” I sigh with the last words, wishing he would walk through the door right now and take me home.
The photo he sent me of the sunrise this morning renewed all my previous feelings for him. Last night’s phone call is a distant memory, and all I want now is for him to come back from wherever he is and kiss me.
The agent reaches into a folder, pulling out another photograph.
“I’m assuming, based on this interview, that you have some amount of romantic interest in Luke Bradshaw. I really shouldn’t show you this, but it was taken last night at a club in Los Angeles.”
She slides it across the table, and I see Luke standing near the best man from Fallon’s wedding, Henrik. They’re both smiling with drinks in their hands, surrounded by five of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. A blonde with perfect, full breasts is leaning in toward him, flashing a smile at my boss. He’s not looking at her, but I can see from his face that he’s out, having a good time.
This is the emergency place he needed to go to without telling me? A club with his old buddy in LA?
My mind is whirling as a lead bowling ball settles heavily inside my stomach. The girls in the elevator of his building flash back into my thoughts, bringing along the icky feeling of walking in on Stephen and Maddie in my bed. I look around for a trash can I can hurl in.
