Page 10 of Hide Little Traitor

Once upon a time, those eyes were what held me together through the worst days of my life, but they seem harder now. Like the years since I’ve seen him have changed him.

“Did you get some more rest?” he asks.

I nod.

“Are you hungry?”

I don’t get a chance to answer before my stomach grumbles loudly, causing a smirk to tug at his lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He tilts his head toward a wide doorway I didn’t notice before, a grand kitchen on the other side.

I follow him into the huge space that must be a chef’s wet dream and pause at the edge of the island as he rummages through the fridge. The tiles are cool beneath my bare feet, and I curse myself for not finding socks before I came downstairs.

There’s a chill coming off the wall of windows on the other side of the kitchen and dining room, which makes me think we’re somewhere north, but that’s nothing but a guess.

“Do you still like grilled cheese?” he asks, holding up a block of cheddar.

“I can make it,” I murmur.

“No, you won’t,” he replies, dropping the cheese and butter on the counter before disappearing into what I assume is the pantry.

Kingston returns a moment later with a loaf of bread and a pan.

He moves around the kitchen with ease, never opening the wrong drawer or cupboard when he’s searching for something.

I bite down on my bottom lip to hide the hiss of pain as I climb onto the stool across from him, earning me a worried look.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” He frowns.

“I’m fine.” I shake my head. “I know you said it’s not safe for anyone to know where I am, but could you just let Camilla know I’m okay? She’s probably going out of her mind.”

“I’ve already told them that you’re fine and safe with me.”

“You have?” I blurt before I can think better of it. Something I learned about Kingston during my time with him all those years ago is that there’s a limit on how many questions he’s willing to answer and that I should choose them wisely.

“Yes. I believe they’re on their way back to New York as we speak, and Ryker will have a new assignment shortly.”

The reminder of my bodyguard makes my chest ache. I miss him. More than I should. More than I have any right to. But something I’m realizing about myself is that it takes very little for me to grow attached to people, and in just a matter of days, Ryker came to mean so much to me.

“He’s being sent to guard someone else?”

“Not exactly.”

I sigh, pressing my eyes closed. I forgot how frustrating his non-answers are. Everything is so cryptic with him.

“Ryker isn’t actually a bodyguard,” he tells me as he adds butter to the pan and waits for it to melt.

“He isn’t?”

“No. He normally investigates missing women and children and then takes care of those responsible for their pain.”

I stare at him for long seconds, trying to make sense of the words he’s saying. Is he saying that Ryker is some kind of private investigator? And what does he mean he takes care of those responsible? “Why was he guarding me if that’s not normally what he does?”

“Because I told him to.”

I swallow heavily around the lump in my throat, my chest tightening with the realization that not only does Ryker know Kingston, but he also must work for him.

Was everything between us a lie? A way to get close to me for his boss?