DONOVAN (Gray Wolf Security, #1)(138)

“What?” she asked softly.

I handed her the phone, aware that we were drawing attention from both Jacob and Rachel. In fact, Jacob moved up behind her just as she darkened the phone’s screen and handed it back to me.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just going a little low. I think we should head back to the house.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Using the diabetes card could be convenient sometimes.

We walked back down the boardwalk toward the parking lot where we’d left the Jeep that belonged to our parents’ beach house. Rachel talked the whole way, gushing about Adrienne’s shooting skills. I glanced at her.

“That was pretty impressive.”

“Army sharp shooter training.”

She said it with such a straight face that I almost believed she was joking. But then, I knew more about her background than either Rachel or Jacob, so I knew she wasn’t trying to pull our legs.

“No f*cking way!” Rachel said, clapping a hand over her mouth the moment the words were out.

Jacob shoved her to the side a little. “Watch it, little sister!”

“Sorry, but, seriously?”

Adrienne nodded.

“You were in the Army?”

“Served a tour in Afghanistan.”

Now I was impressed. That information explained so much about her that it felt like a dozen puzzle pieces were suddenly falling into place. I took her hand and squeezed gently. She glanced at me, her eyes guarded, as though she were afraid I might look at her differently now, or something. I guess we both had our insecurities.

I tugged her in front of me and wrapped my arms around her.

“You’re a badass,” I whispered against her ear.

She laughed, twisting in my arms and stealing a kiss.

Rachel wouldn’t let it go, asking Adrienne a million questions as Jacob guided the Jeep over the sandy streets back to the house. Adrienne tried to answer them all, revealing that she had spent time in Germany as well as Afghanistan, but Rachel was so curious that she was asking question on top of question, never waiting for a full answer before asking the next question.

I finally stole the stuffed bear Adrienne had won for her out of her arms and bopping her on the top of the head with it.

“Let it rest, Rachel. It’s not like this is the only chance you’re ever going to get to ask her questions.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stick around for a while?” she asked, staring straight at Adrienne.

“As long as Lucien needs me,” she said, more honest than either Jacob or Rachel would ever know.

I pulled her into our shared bedroom the moment we were back at the house.

“I need to call my dad, tell him about that email,” she said the moment we were alone.

She had her phone in her hand, but then there was a knock on the door and my mom stuck her head inside.

“Hey. I just wanted to warn you before you got occupied,” she said, shooting a look at Adrienne, making me feel like a teenager who’d just gotten caught with a girl in my room for the first time, “Karl and I are taking everyone out to dinner at Margot’s tonight.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, brushing a kiss across her cheek.

She looked up at me, one of those worried mom looks flashing through her eyes before she touched my cheek lightly.

“Jacob said your sugars were low?”

“I’m fine. I have juice in here.”

She studied my face a minute longer, then backed away. “Seven o’clock.”

I watched her go, then eased the door closed, feeling guilty for lying. My blood sugars were fine. Had been fine since last night’s little blip. I turned and caught Adrienne watching me, the same concern dancing in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “Really.”

She just nodded, but she watched me a second longer. Then she turned her attention to her phone.

I listened as she spoke softly in a tone that was so different from the one she used with me. She was talking to her father. There was something universal about a child’s voice when they spoke to a parent, whether that child be five or fifty. I knew it was a tone I used when I spoke to my mom, too. But Adrienne’s tone of voice was different. It wasn’t just respectful. There was something more in her voice. A sort of reverence that again made me wonder about her story.

“Okay,” she said, turning back to me. “I told him about the new email. He said that they’ve been checking into everyone at your office, including that lawyer you said worked with you on the patent application. And they have remote access to your email account, so they can trace this new email, too. But it will likely come back to the same IP address.”

“Can they trace the account it came from?”

“It’s a Yahoo account. Anyone can sign up for an account with them.”

I nodded as I sank down onto the bed. I lay back and threw my arm over my face, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. She came over and sat beside me, tucking that flowing summer dress around her legs in an awkward sort of shove and pucker.

“You don’t wear dresses often, do you?”

I peeked at her from under my arm. She made a face at me.

“I’d much rather be in jeans and a t-shirt.”