Wherever It Leads(70)

I swipe my napkin off the table and press it to my eyes. I don’t want to cry, not here. Not now.

Fenton moves to stand and I wave him off. “Don’t. I’m fine,” I sniffle. “If you come over here and hug me, I’ll cry.”

“I hate seeing you like this.” I can tell his throat is dry because the words come out like sandpaper.

“Yeah, me too,” I laugh.

He watches me carefully before pushing back from the table despite my wishes. “Are you hungry?”

I shake my head. My stomach is in so many knots right now I couldn’t force anything down.

He stands and whips around the table, pulling me to my feet and into him before I can object. I rest my head against his chest and listen to the strumming of his heartbeat. It’s the warmest, safest place I’ve ever been besides my daddy’s arms when I was a little girl. I could get used to it. I want to get used to it. I want him to want me to get used to it.

He draws away far too soon and takes my hand, locking our fingers together, and leads me to the sofa facing the water in the center of the room. As we sit, I notice his breathing has gotten quicker, his hand squeezing mine off and on.

“So, how did Grant and I end up at Pano last night?”

Fenton stares at the water, his profile so rugged and handsome. He has a trace of stubble dotting his jawline and I itch to touch it, to run my fingers from his temple down to his supple lips.

He turns slowly to face me, his pupils wide in the soft light. “I had someone track him down and offer him a gift card.”

“Are you serious?”

His head nods slowly, his hand releasing mine and wiping across the top of his pants.

“Why would you do that? How did you even know who he was?”

I’m at a loss for words. My head is spinning because although I figured something like this was the case, hearing him admit it is beyond crazy.

“I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before last night.”

I sink back into the sofa, watching him uneasily. He’s nervous, but he seems confident. He’s looking me straight in the eye. I press forward. “So how did you find him? I don’t get it.”

“Finding people is easy.” He seems to realize what he’s said as my face falls. “I’m sorry.”

“Finding people in this country must be easy, I guess, when you have money.” I force a smile, trying to make light of the comment, even though it makes my heart hurt.

He flashes me a tight grin and chooses to keep going and not dwell on his slip-up. “I called a guy I work with and he did some digging on Grant. We tracked him to the marina and someone gave him a gift certificate.”

“But why?”

“Because I knew if he tried to take you to dinner, he’d go wherever it was free.”

“But Fenton, why?” I rise off the sofa and take a few steps away. I need some space to think, to breathe, to let my heart pound like a drum and not think he can hear it. “Why would you go to that much trouble?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I say emphatically. “It matters. Your motivation behind it really matters to me.”

He loosens his tie further. He’s squirmy, so unlike him. “After everything you told me about him, I was concerned for your safety. I wanted you somewhere I could keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe.”

“After what I told you about him? What? That I had to pay for his shit?”

“That he was acting erratically. He had problems with money, he lied. That you suspect he has something to do with your brother,” he gulps. “Those aren’t positive attributes, rudo.”

“Obviously,” I snort. “But why do you care? You have no obligation to me.” I bite my tongue, holding myself back from saying more.

He laughs, a quiet chuckle that leaves me standing wordlessly. He leans back and looks at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he faces me again, his eyes are as clear as I’ve ever seen them. “I do have an obligation to you,” he says quietly.

My heart leaps to my throat and I take a staggering step backwards. “How do you figure?”

“There are many reasons why.”

“Such as . . .” I prompt him.

His gaze catches mine mid-air and holds it and doesn’t let go.

“You’ve really made me rethink a lot of things in my life. See things in a new light.” He grins a boyish smile, his head dipping just a touch. “You’ve made me smile, inside and out, for the first time in maybe forever. Certainly on this level.”

“You’ve made me smile too,” I whisper.

“The report on Grant isn’t good, Brynne. I saw enough to realize you shouldn’t be alone with this jackass. He’s bad news. Very bad news.”

“Are you just saying that?”

“Why would I just say that?”

I shrug, trying to process this information. “What did it say? Anything that would have impacted his time in Zimbabwe? I mean, is he on drugs? Could he have been so f*cked up on something over there that maybe he is the reason Brady was in that neighborhood that day?”

My mind is spinning, round and round and round. The more I think, the faster it twirls.

Fenton shakes his head and looks around the room. “When I get the final report back, if I think it can help you, I’ll make sure you get it.”