Infinite Possibilities (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #2)(33)

Saving everyone from a scene, at least for the moment, I detour to the kitchen. Somehow, that leads me to stare into Liam’s pathetically empty fridge. He was right. The kitchen isn’t well stocked and my emotional upheaval seems to be translating to hunger.

I wait a few expectant moments and when the three men don’t appear, my hunt for food has me opening what turns out to be the pantry. I find a bag of Oreo cookies that support Liam’s earlier confessed love of sugar-laden treats. I grab them, fill a glass with milk, which is surprisingly within the proper date considering the state of Liam’s fridge, and head to the table. Claiming the spot that puts me facing the island and anyone who enters the kitchen, I proceed to down six cookies and all the milk without so much as a tiny churn of my stomach. Apparently, the baby has a sweet tooth that won’t be good for my health or waistline but I’m happy to get anything in my stomach that stays down.

I’m about to go for another cookie when my hope that Derek and Tellar would leave proves futile. The three men pile into the room and it takes mere seconds for me to have enough testosterone standing in a row in front of the table, staring at me and my cookies, to make my head ready to explode. Most women would welcome these three men for many reasons, however I doubt it would be when they were stuffing their faces with food like I am now.

Avoiding eye contact with Liam, with his best interest in mind, I set my uneaten cookie back in the container. If I see that arrogant “my way is King” attitude in his eyes, my tongue will be whiplash ready. My distraction gets me nowhere fast. I’m back to staring at the three men’s stony faces, or rather two of them, and they at me. Seconds of silence tick by and it’s like no one breathes, and I get the distinct impression they are all waiting on me. Maybe Liam warned them I was a torpedo ready to blow. He was right, but I’ve practiced way too much restraint these past years to have none now.

I wave at the group. “Hi.”

The instant easing of tension of the room is like a rubber band popping. All three men seem to relax, muscles stretching and shifting. Okay, correction again. Two men relax. Liam is unmoving, his stare willing mine to find his, and I refuse.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Derek says, setting down a folder on the table, then claiming the seat at the end of the table, followed by the package of cookies. He lifts my empty glass. “But you didn’t leave me much to wash it down with.”

I study him a moment, his blond hair neatly styled, his customary suit replaced with neatly pressed dark blue jeans and a white polo, and although I get why Liam is invested in me, I’m not certain I’m buying Derek’s reasons for being here.

Liam walks to the fridge, retrieves the milk, moves the glass in front of me and fills it, the sweetness of the act belying his ability to excel as a complete *. His eyes meet mine, and the connection, that damn connection, I feel with him, punches me hard in the chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“I need more than cookies,” Tellar complains, sitting next to Derek, and cater-cornered to the right of me. “I worked up an appetite hauling all the shopping bags Derek’s sister gave me to supply your closet.” He snatches up a cookie.

“Liam told my sister to shop for you,” Derek explains before I can ask. “She’s an overachiever when it comes to spending money.”

When normally Liam spending money on me would be a concern, it’s the last thing on my mind at the moment. “You shouldn’t involve her. I don’t want her put in danger.”

Derek snorts. “My sister going on a wild shopping spree is just another day of the week. She was the perfect tool to get you what you needed. Believe me, nothing is suspicious and she’s not in danger.”

Liam plops a duffel-style bag on the table in front of me, and I'm surprised by the unfamiliar item I hadn’t noticed until now, my gaze lifts and connects with his. “What is this?” I ask and the pull between us is magnetic, or rather, more of a current dragging me under.

“Your things from your motel room.”

My brows furrow and I glance at Tellar. “Why didn’t you just use my suitcase?”

He makes a face. “Suitcase? There was no suitcase. There was no bag at all.”

“There was a suitcase,” I assure him and concerned about what its absence means, I am on my feet in an instant, digging through the bag to find nothing but a few clothes, toiletries, and that’s it.

“Not what you expected?” Liam asks.

I shake my head and sink back into my chair. “Everything I told you about was in the room. The notes. Weeks and weeks of research into my past. It’s all gone.”

Liam moves the duffel off the table and settles into the chair directly across from me. “We have months of research we’ve done too. We can recreate yours. Maybe we already have.”

“We can’t recreate the messages I told you about.”

Tellar grumbles a curse, scrubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Amy. My man said nothing looked disturbed so he assumed he was the first to get there. We’re tracking the PI’s activity before we came in contact with him. We’re hoping that leads us to answers.”

“I’ll take any answers I can get. And it’s not your fault. I was afraid to carry the documents with me and have them stolen from my backpack that wasn’t locked up. Obviously, that was a bad call.”