But she needs me with her right now.
Revenge will have to wait.
While smaller, less powerful boats would have to fight against the storm, the yacht cuts through the waves to Cascade Island.
I don’t bring anyone here except my brothers—and not the whole puppy pound, either. Fitz is out of his mind if he thought that was ever going to happen. I’ve never brought any of the women I dated here, either.
It is my sanctuary, this house, with its views to the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, the ancient forest, the vast beaches. Now Mandy is here, blearily blinking over her tea as we approach the dock.
I take the cup from her and set it on the mahogany sideboard.
She barely protests as I scoop her up in my arms. “You can’t. I’m too heavy.”
“I’m honestly insulted you think I can’t carry you.” I bring her down the stairs to the gangplank and stand on the dock at the base of the cliff. Above us is perched my extremely expensive house.
Sue me. I like nice things.
“Welcome home, sir,” Linton greets me, his eyebrows practically in his short hairline as he sets eyes on Mandy in my arms.
The rest of the staff is too well-paid to even spare Mandy a passing glance. But I met Linton, ex-British Special Forces, way back when I was in the military. He was a British liaison, and he asked me for a job a few years after he retired. Said he wanted a quiet life.
“Poor thing.” Linton tsks. “I’ll lay out clothes for her and put tea on. Herbal. She’s had a shock, it looks like. Mary?” he asks one of the workers. “Put the kettle on, love, will you?”
Mary and a few of the other staff smile at Pepper, who has lost whatever gumption she must have had in the alley and is now shocked and offended that she has to walk—in the rain, of all things. Linton follows behind the grumbling corgi, hovering over her with an umbrella.
“Your dog is spoiled,” I whisper to Mandy. The rain is only a light mist now.
“She’s an only child.” Mandy’s voice is faint.
My footing is steady as I make my way up the path to the house. It’s warm inside, and I carry Mandy into one of the spare bedrooms with a view of the forest. I set her gently on her feet.
The rain has started again, the droplets pounding against the window. Mandy’s safe inside with me, though.
“Salinger…” She sounds hesitant. “Why…”
Why, indeed?
I caress her face. “Never mind that. Just take a hot shower,” I order her. “I’ll be downstairs.”
Later, I pace in the vast living room, ignoring its multi-level view out over the cliff to the water.
Mandy, my assistant, is in my fucking house. I brought her here.
But what could I realistically do? Leave her out there? Take her back to the shithole I was sure she lived in and spend the entire weekend worrying about her? I certainly would not to stay there with her. Her place probably has bugs and druggie neighbors. I had enough of that in my twenties.
No, she has to be here with me.
And tomorrow, when she loses that scared-rabbit look, I am going to sit her down—very calmly, mind you—and make her tell me everything she knows about who was chasing her in that alley.
“The tea for your lady friend.” Linton appears in the dark living room.
“She’s not a friend,” I reply automatically.
“Did you fish her out of the bay, then?” His British-accented voice is mildly acerbic. “Does she have a name, or was there a fish tail but now she’s lost her voice?”
I blow out a breath. “It’s my assistant. Mandy.”
“Ah.”
