"Okay," she said.
She didn't mean it, and Noah most likely knew. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as they sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for whatever was coming up the driveway.
13
Noah stood in front of the window in the family room with his second cup of coffee. The steam curled lazily from the black liquid, then evaporated into the air. The pounding in his head had backed off. The rest of it hadn't.
None of which were pleasant.
Cormac had been replaced by a man named Dakota Wyss. He’d been in the Navy and stationed at Naval Base Kitsap. He was also now employed by the Aegis Network and taking shifts with Cormac. Seemed like a decent guy.
A large, fancy SUV pulled into his driveway from the private road.
“They’re here.” He glanced over his shoulder.
Ziggy had baked muffins the other day—chocolate chip this time—and she’d arranged them neatly on the countertop. She had a to-go mug in one hand and a muffin wrapped in a napkin in the other. “Okay. I’m just going to run this out to Dakota, since he’s even worse than Cormac about coming inside.”
Noah chuckled. “Sometimes, I think you believe baked goods will solve the world's problems.”
She obviously didn’t find it funny because she glared as she passed him on the way out the door. He knew he didn’tunderstand women in general, but he thought he’d always had a good handle on Ziggy.
This last week proved that all women, even the one he loved more than anything and couldn’t live without, were onions with far too many layers to peel.
He stood in the doorway and watched her pause briefly to say hello to Baxter and Jag before making a beeline to Dakota, who was out of his car so fast, she nearly tripped over her own two feet.
“She’s so much like our mother,” Jag said as he jogged up the porch steps. “I bet she’s already taken over your fridge, and now you have appetizers and pastries, just in case people stop by or you decide to have a gathering.”
“I don’t know how she stays so trim because I’ve already gained two pounds this week.” Noah stepped aside and let Jag and Baxter inside. He glanced toward Ziggy, who was still speaking to Dakota. Noah stood there for a moment, contemplating whether he should wait, call her over, or just let her be, and she’d wander in when she was ready.
He decided on the latter.
“There’s a pot of coffee and, as you can see, muffins.” Noah closed the door and made his way into the kitchen. He set down his mug and leaned against the opposite side of the family room and stared at the door while the other two men went about making themselves at home.
Noah glanced at his watch twice.
It had only taken six minutes for Ziggy to come back inside, but it felt like a half hour of nothing but spoons hitting ceramic and two men commenting on how great chocolate chip muffins were while Noah nearly lost his mind.
Noah didn't care that she was out there chatting with Dakota. Noah thought it was nice that she wanted to take care of the menwatching over them. But it was Ziggy’s nervous energy had him on edge.
Noah had to admit, he was worried, too. The system generally worked, but sometimes it made some fucked up mistakes.
Ziggy eased into the stool across from Baxter, with her back to the door. Jag leaned his ass against the far counter near the sink, facing Noah. For half a beat, everyone was silent. It was like the aftermath when a bomb went off. Noah couldn’t stand it.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Baxter leaned down and pulled a folder out of his briefcase. He slid two pages across the island—one toward Noah, the other toward Ziggy. “Monica’s attorney called me early this morning?—”
“That can’t be good,” Ziggy whispered.
“Let him finish,” Jag said.
“It was a courtesy call,” Baxter continued. “He wanted to give us a heads up, so we weren’t blindsided.”
“Can we just get to the point?” Ziggy waved the paper. “What are we looking at?”
Noah glanced at the page. “Well, it’s not an arrest warrant.”
“Stop trying to be funny.” She slapped the paper on the counter.