“Well, too bad. I’m out of eggs. And butter. And bread.”
“Your groceries should be there in about ten minutes.”
“My groceries?”
“Yeah. Your fridge was empty, so I took the liberty of ordering some staples for you. You can make yourself a proper,adultbreakfast. And the ice cream I ordered doesn’t count as breakfast either. I checked your freezer, too.”
“Did you poison them?” I’m not entirely convinced Guy isn’t going to kill me at some point. I know he’s going to kill again, and the fact that I don’t know who or how he’s doing to do it puts me on edge.
Just because he let me go doesn’t mean I’m free. No, he has plans I’m not privy to. But he’s evaded the FBI for months now. I doubt I’d be safe going to the police or eventhe Secret Service. Not that they’d do much for me. A rent-a-cop would be more effective than the suits Dad has on payroll.
“I’m not wasting perfectly good poison on you, Princess. Besides, you’re fun to talk to.”
I’m… fun? That’s not a word anyone associates with Daphne Fox.
“I can order my own food, you know.” I slam the fridge in frustration. I’m hangry, and I want coffee, but I’m out of milk until his stupid groceries arrive. Leaning down, I sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor as Hawkeye waddles over and clambers onto my lap. He jumps up, licking my chin and making me laugh before I can stop it.
“Hawkeye, down.”
“And how’s our fur baby doing this morning?”
Our fur baby? What the fuck?
“Myfur baby is doing fine. Thanks for feeding him. Though that wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t kidnapped me yesterday.”
“Ah, but the kidnapping was necessary.”
Was it, though? It’s still surreal that he’d let me go just so I could spill tea on politicians.
“Speaking of, is that why you called me?” I ask. “You wanted information?”
“I need all the information you have on Representative McArthur.”
Hawkeye licks the underside of my chin again before settling down at my knees. “Connor’s dad? I’ll need you to be more specific.”
“Everything. Tell me every detail you know about him and his family.”
The McArthurs?I’ve known Cheyenne McArthur since we rushed the same sorority at Georgetown. I’d spoken toConnor on occasion, but last night was the longest we’d spent together alone. I’ve heard whispers of gossip about the family, but what is Guy fishing for?
“Well, for starters, he and my dad are on good terms. Our families are members of the same country club. He loves golf and World War II documentaries. He’s allergic to peanuts, and his last personal assistant was fired for eating a Snickers at her desk. Let’s see.”
I rack my brain for a moment, trying to think of what little I knew about the McArthurs. Most of it was from Cheyenne gossiping about her family. “Mom and Mrs. McArthur are both Daughters of the American Revolution. She wears green a lot. Cheyenne said her mom sometimes looked like a leprechaun with her red hair and green dresses. Connor’s got his head too far up his ass to notice anything that isn’t about Harvard. And Cheyenne is married to a plastic surgeon and pregnant. My family is invited to her gender reveal party next Saturday.”
“A what?”
“A gender reveal? You know, those parties where they cut into a cake, and it’s blue for a boy or pink for a girl.”
“I know what they are. I just can’t believe people are still doing those.” His disbelief makes me giggle, even though I try to swallow it down.
“Sadly, yes. And as a woman in her twenties, I’m being subjected to it with a smile on my face and a roll in my eyes. And of course, everyone will be asking if I’m dating anyone because anything baby-related gives people permission to ask invasive questions.”
“Sounds like I hit a nerve there,” he teases.
I scoff. “It’s a nerve for every single woman in her childbearing years. Don’t get me started. I still haven’t had my coffee.”
“Speaking of, your delivery driver is around the corner.”
Hawkeye jumps up for attention before settling one paw on my pudgy stomach. “You know, I could afford to skip a few meals. It wouldn’t hurt to lose a couple of pounds.”
