I still don’t know what was going on with Richie at the gallery exhibit the other night. All of it felt so damn shady.
It’s all a jumbled mess in my head, and when I think about it too hard, I want to cry.
Gideon is right next to me, not touching me, but so close that I can feel the warmth of him, and for the first time in four years, I feel like I can exhale. Like I finally feelsafe.
He leads me down the tunnel and outside to the waiting car. When he joins me in the back seat, I realize that it’sBishopdriving.
I never see the director anymore. Why isheour escort?
“What the hell is going on?” I ask him, and he flicks his eyes over to me in the rearview mirror but doesn’t answer me. “Come on. Some guy who is supposed to be protecting me tries to take me, is shot and bleeds all over me—”
Gideon stiffens next to me. His hands tighten into fists.
“—and Richie disappeared on me, leaving me alone with the bad guy.”
“What the fuck,” Gideon says. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“He didn’t disappear,” Bishop says.
“He wasn’twithme,” I reply. “And my guysneverwalk away from me.”
“He was distracted. Pulled away. It was part of the setup.”
I shake my head and lean back in the seat, resigned to the fact thatno onewill tell me what’s really going on. It’s always the same. This is what it is to be the daughter of the most powerful woman in the world.
I do what I’m told, and I’m not told much. It’s infuriating.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
No one answers me.
“And you all wonder why I’m a pain in the ass,” I mutter, shaking my head as I look out the window as Washington, DC, whizzes by.
We end up at the airport, and I’m escorted onto a private jet. When the door closes, it’s just me and Gideon on the plane.
My eyes fly to his. His face is stony, his eyes flat and calm, showing no emotion. Which is pretty on brand for this man. He never had much to say, and it looks like that hasn’t changed.
Before long, we’re airborne. I hate flying, and that sucks for me because I’ve had to fly all over the freaking world. I haven’t said a word since setting foot on this aircraft, and we’re not even looking at each other.
My hands aren’t altogether steady, and I hate that no one will tell me where I’m going. I don’t knowanything.
The only reason I’m not throwing an all-out fit is that Gideon is with me. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.
“Montana.”
My eyes return to his, and I tilt my head to the side. “Pardon?”
“We’re going to my ranch in Montana.”
The pieces start to fit together.
“You’re not coming back to work for the Secret Service.”
He shakes his head and stays silent.
“You’re taking me to yourhome.”
That makes my stomach jitter. I get to see where he lives?
