“I need to know what you know.”
“She told me this morning. Well, the gist of it. She glossed over the details.”
I nod through another wave of relief. Even if Hannah never tells another soul, she told one person she trusts, and I can’t help but be a little proud of her for that.
She’s already repeating herself before I can get a word in. “What are we gonna do? I can’t force her to report it.”
“Does your husband know?”
A laugh laced with contempt escapes her lips. “Oh yeah. And he’s pissed. Said Daniel’s been holed up in his office all day. Goddamn coward.” My molars grind together. “Heard you rearranged his face last night.” My eyes jerk to hers and it’s all the confirmation she needs. “I knew I liked you.”
I step closer, lower my voice. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna give me the address of your husband’s office, and I’ll take it from there.”
Kristen purses her lips. Arms pinned across my chest, I meet her stare and raise her a challenging tip of the head.
She hums thoughtfully. “And by ‘take it’ you mean…”
“Address.”
A tap to her temple. “Plausible deniability. I hear ya.” Phone comesout. “I heard nothing. Saw nothing.” Her thumbs fly over her screen. “I know nothing. Rowan who? That’s what I always say.”
A chuckle thrums the back of my throat as heat pricks my skin. She knows my name. Hannah told her about me. “I’m not a hitman, Kristen.”
She slaps her palms over her ears and closes her eyes, shaking her head vigorously. “La la la la la la la, I didn’t hear anything.” With that she winks, smirks, and turns her phone around.
I jot down the name and address of the wealth management company into my notes app while Kristen casts suspicious looks over her shoulder. This woman clearly watches too much spy television.
“Got it.” I slide my phone in my pocket.
“Well then, stranger whom I’ve never met, it was nice not knowing you.”
I huff a laugh and she does the same. The ruse fades a beat later, her expression sobering.
She extends a hand and I take it. “Thank you, Rowan.”
This has always come with my job description—strangers thanking me for my sacrifice. But Hannah isn’t some mission. Last night wasn’t an order or a target I’d studied for weeks. It was instinct.
My reply fumbles in my chest for a beat. “I did what any decent guy would’ve done.”
Kristen’s hand still clings to mine in a motionless hover. “No, decent guys intervene with a few punches before asking if the woman’s okay and then they move on.” She juts her head. “But you stayed. You gave her space. Held back her hair. Drove her home and tucked her into bed. You cleaned her kitchen and met her mom.” Eyes narrowed, she drops my hand. “You’re not just thedecentguy. You’re an…invested guy.”
She has no idea how invested I am.
“I just want her to be okay.” The response lands quieter than I intended, but my throat is too tight.
A single nod. “Me too.”
I waltzinto the reception area of Daniel’s office twenty minutes later, my text to Hannah still unsent.
As promised, Kristen’s husband, John, meets me in the lobby. We exchange greetings but don’t linger for small talk. Judging by the look on his face, I don’t need to explainwhyI’m here.
He leads me down a long hall flanked by private offices on both sides. “You talk to him at all?” I ask.
“No, he hasn’t left his office. Kristen told me what happened and then texted saying you were on your way.”
We round a corner and he stops before starting down a new hall. “He’s the last one on the left,” he says with a pointed dip of his chin. “So, what’s the play here?”
“You don’t need to be involved if you don’t want to.”