“What’s wrong?” Parker asked.
“Another package bomb went off. Locally.”
“Jesus.” Fiona’s shock matched his.
“It was a few hours ago, and on the truck. Small enough the driver is okay and no one was hurt. But they found a second one on a different truck.”
“Where was it going?” Fiona asked.
Odd question. “I don’t know. Anyway, I have to take a raincheck on tomorrow.” Later today? “Marketing and sales have to work on how we’re spinning this. Fuck, that sounds cold. I hate this.” He stopped himself before he could spill his thoughts. He’d rather tell everyone the truth about the situation. That wasn’t like him.
“We’ll let you work”—Fiona managed to dig up her dress and replace Parker’s shirt with it without exposing herself—“but neither of us is going back to sleep anytime soon, so if you need anything...”
He should be making that offer to the woman who woke up in his bed terrified of a ghost that wouldn’t stop haunting her. “Thanks.”
She kissed him—a quick brush across the lips, but as distracting as anything they’d shared before. “Good luck,” she said.
Wyatt dropped back into his chair after she and Parker left, and struggled to rope in his thoughts from every corner of his mind. He needed to focus on this bombing. He needed to not be thinking about the future—or lack thereof—with Fiona and Parker.
And he needed to figure out why the fuck he was so out of control these days. Before it destroyed his career and him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WAKING UP AND THINKING she was in Tim’s room, bound and helpless, always stole Fiona’s thoughts and squeezed her chest until she couldn’t breathe.
The terror faded each time she realized she was next to Parker. Tonight was no different. She still needed to clear her head, though. To put herself in a place where she knew Tim wasn’t a threat anymore.
Coming back in to Wyatt and Parker talking was surreal—stepping into another dream. One she didn’t mind.
Until the news about the next bombing hit Wyatt’s phone.
Her calm was shattered. A buzz she couldn’t name or shake lingered in her head. Sleep wouldn’t be her friend tonight.
She and Parker reached their room, and he unlocked the door. “What now?” he asked. “Movies? Ungodly-late pizza? Ungodly-early breakfast?”
“None of the above.” She grabbed her phone and sent a quick text to Nick. When you see the news, we’re fine. So he didn’t freak out on her for not checking in. She dropped the device back in her purse, then sank onto the couch. “I was hoping we could sit. Talk. Not like a we need to talk kind of thing.” Sort of, but not quite. “I just mean enjoy each other’s company.”
“Sure.” He settled next to her.
She fiddled with the edges of the cushion and stared at her knees. “I was thinking about something on the balcony, and with the news, it might not be the best timing—”
“The timing is fine. The news was horrific, but no one was hurt. We’re not putting anything off by letting it go on in the background. What’s up?”
Now that the opportunity was there, the words wouldn’t come. Or rather, everything that popped into her head sounded ridiculous. If Parker was okay with it, she wanted to add Wyatt to their relationship long term, but Wyatt had to want that too, and she wasn’t convinced he did. And she still didn’t trust him enough to think asking him would get her an honest answer.
So she could say, Let’s see where things go with all three of us, but that was what they were doing.
“Red? What’s up?” Parker lifted her chin, to look her in the eye.
“Thank you. For everything.” It was the best she could come up with and didn’t come close to what she wanted to say.
He smiled. “We do for each other. It’s why we work together.”
“I’m still grateful.”
“I meant everything I said about Wyatt. I’m not just tolerating this. Tonight was fun, and it might have been even without the sex.”
Relief that he almost read her mind trickled through her. It was close to the answer she wanted. She lay down on the couch and rested her head on his leg. “Movies sound good.”
“Movies it is.” He flipped on the TV, trailing his fingers through her hair with his free hand.
Fiona didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep, until Parker’s, “God damn it,” jarred her awake.
She jolted up, heart hammering and pulse roaring in her ears. “What’s wrong?” The question tumbled out before she finished processing her surroundings.
“Ms. Passion is about half a step from fucking doxing you. Also, call Nick.” He was sitting at the table in the main room, laptop in front of him.
If his tone didn’t drag her toward alertness faster than a shot of espresso, his words would have. “Wait. Back up. She what?”
He sighed and turned the laptop toward her. A few clicks later, the vlogger’s smug face filled the screen. “My heart goes out to the affected families in these tragic bombings.” Ms. Passion’s tone was kind. Almost sympathetic. Who knew she had it in her? “I’m grateful no one was hurt in the most recent incident and hope the police bring those responsible to justice quickly.”
Okay. That didn’t sound so bad. Fiona couldn’t swallow past the sick pit in her gut, though. Parker wouldn’t be upset over this.
“However, I also hope that in their questioning, they measure each person’s answers carefully. I have it from a reliable source that they spoke to Fiona Walters in the last city, and are interested in doing so again this time. After she put an innocent man behind bars for her boyfriend’s—”
Parker slammed the laptop shut, but the noise barely carried past the hammering of Fiona’s pulse in her ears. “What did I ever do to her?”
“I wish I knew.” Parker moved back to sit next to her. “I’d show you Wyatt’s press release—all the news stations are playing it—but it’s standard lip service, and he looks miserable. That might not cheer you up.”
Fiona fell sideways and landed with her head against Parker’s shoulder. “No. It probably wouldn’t. You talked to Nick?”
“Yeah. He called a couple of hours ago.”
How long did she sleep? She grabbed her phone. It was almost ten in the morning. She scrolled through the texts from her brother. The first one was sweet enough.
Thanks for letting me know. Give me a call when you’re up.
The next one cranked her fury from simmering to white-hot.
What the fuck are you doing in the same city as Wyatt? Again?
She wasn’t in the mood for Nick’s holier-than-thou attitude. She stabbed out a reply.
Couldn’t tell you. Maybe he’s here because he works for the same company who hired us.
She’d call Nick back later. Once she had a chance to vent and rage and calm down a little. She had a missed call from an unknown number as well, along with a voicemail.
“Let’s take off for the day.” Parker’s soft voice startled her. “Drive to a new town. Get away. Pretend nothing else exists.”
Fiona should be irritated with him for suggesting they run away. But it was only temporary, and it sounded like the most brilliant idea she’d ever heard. “Let me see who this call is from first.”
She pulled up the message and hit Play.
“Fiona, this is Martin Landry, with the FBI. I got your information from Detective Marshall in New Orleans. We’d like to speak with you.”
Her gut turned in on itself, and she dropped her phone.
Fuck this. Fuck it all.
FIONA WAS TEMPTED TO crack a joke—ask if she could get a frequent-visitor punch card, for visiting police stations. Free cushioned seat on her next visit, maybe?
The expression on Agent Landry’s face implied he wouldn’t be amused. Possibly by anything. Ever.
“I’d like you to take a look at these.” He slid three pieces of paper across the metal table they sat at.
She turned the prin
ted photos to face her, and when pictures of herself stared back, her stomach dropped into her shoes. They were images of her from the trip to the vineyard. How did he get these? Why did they exist? “I’m looking.”
“Do you recognize them?”
“Not these shots specifically. I know where I was when they were taken. We were at a winery near Philadelphia. The video of it is on Parker’s channel.”
Landry’s frown deepened—she didn’t think that was possible—and he drummed his fingers on the table. “Parker? Your boyfriend with the videos?”
“Yes.”
“Could these have come from those?”
“Probably not. The lighting is wrong. They’re taken from too far away. He and I stayed close most of the tour.”
“I see.” His tone didn’t give anything away. “Did you have anyone else with you, taking pictures or doing any type of second-camera-angle filming?”
“No. Definitely not. Parker’s a single-man operation.” Should she mention Wyatt? Not unless the questions led there. He wasn't involved in this, and delving into why he’d been with them that day could damage both his and her career. “Where did you get them?”
He took the photos and placed them in a Manila folder. “I can’t disclose that information at this time. Do you have any other thoughts of who might have taken these?”
“Tim.” The answer came before she realized why.
“The man who was arrested for stalking and assaulting you?”
She nodded. Unlike last time, she refused to let this get to her. It wouldn’t drill into her head and make her question how many places Tim followed her that she didn’t know about. “That trip was about the time he started getting more insistent with his messages. I don’t know if he was there that day or not.”
She hoped not. If it wasn’t Tim, where did the photos come from?
Ms. Passion’s words echoed in her head, accusing Fiona of making the whole thing up for publicity. Memories of Tim forcing her into his room, binding her, and refusing to let her go were more vivid than she could stand.
What if Fiona had missed something else?
“I need you to take a look at these next.” Landry handed her more photos.
She braced herself for another round of images of her that shouldn’t exist. There was a wash of relief when she saw the grainy photos. As though they’d been taken from a security camera. The man in the image was dark haired, wore a suit, and stood at a convenience-store counter.
“Do you know this man?” Landry asked.
The guy could be anyone. His back was to the camera, and the quality was low, so no details stood out. “No.”
“How about this man? Do you know him?”
Fiona’s pulse sidestepped and kickstarted again at the photo of Wyatt. Why were they asking about him? “Of course. Wyatt Lindberg was my initial contact for the current project I’m working on. It looked like his handwriting on my business card—I told the detective that—and Wyatt and I have spoken several times over the past couple of weeks.”
Agent Landry blinked, but there was no other shift in his expression. The man was probably a brutal poker player. “Has he ever followed you?”
“No.” Well, there was that time he nicked their travel plans from Grammie’s and used them to rearrange his schedule and meet them at the airport.
“Does he act odd or creepy around you?”
A lot of Wyatt’s behavior would be creepy if she wasn’t attracted to him. That was where that whole consent thing she’d tried to explain to Tim came into play. “No. Never.”
“Are you sure?” Landry asked. The doubt that whispered across his face vanished quickly, but the break in his mask bothered Fiona.
“I’m absolutely sure. And I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you otherwise if that were the case.” She didn’t like where the questions were headed.
“Where were you last night?”
She refused to get whiplash from the rapid shift in subjects. “Funny you should ask. Wyatt took Parker and me out, to see the town. A little vendor hospitality.”
“What time did you go your separate ways at the end of the night?”
Fiona stalled. Not long, but she prayed the second’s pause didn’t show. “Late. I don’t remember.”
“Before midnight? After?” His tone grew more insistent.
Wyatt didn’t do whatever Landry thought he did. He might be a manipulative fucker, but he wasn’t a criminal. She could provide an alibi if needed, but she prayed it didn’t come to that. For now, she’d make sure she didn’t get him in hot water when he didn’t need to be. “It was late. That’s all I know.”
This was nothing. Standard questioning, right? The warning bells going off in her head—concern for Wyatt—were because she’d seen too many crime dramas on TV.
Please let that be the case.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IRRITATION ROARED THROUGH Parker. He needed to get back inside the police station, to be there when Fiona finished, but the people in the lobby wouldn’t appreciate overhearing his conversation.
“So, because Ms. Passion just strongly implied Fiona was here, rather than outright saying so, it’s okay?” He wouldn't yell at Chloe. She was doing her job. She'd been kind enough to take his call. Her company had a lucrative business relationship with Fiona’s.
He wouldn't yell, but he desperately wanted to.
“I know, and I'm sorry.” Chloe sounded sincere. “She's been warned. She's fantastic at finding the loopholes.”
Because how else would someone get away with making video reviews of sex toys that weren't labeled as adult content?
“What are we supposed to do?” He was asking himself more than her.
Chloe sighed. “I shouldn't be talking to you like this. I should have sent you to the Support team.”
“Then why'd you take my call?”
“For Fiona. Here's the honest deal—as much as I'm allowed to say, probably a little more than I should. This competition was a huge experiment for us. So many variables we didn't think would be a big deal. And we considered a lot. The tattoo artist in Italy? Tara? We’re being sued because someone claims she used a dirty needle and gave them Hepatitis C.”
“That sucks. For everyone.” Parker didn't know what else to say. He also wasn't sure how it related to his situation, beyond being fucked up, but that would be rude to say.
Chloe gave a strained chuckle. “It does. My point is, we have to evaluate and see if this is profitable to do again, once we implement lessons learned.”
“I hope you do. The bumps have sucked, but the opportunity... It’s been incredible,” Parker said.
“I’m glad. That's what I hoped for. Besides the fact that we got a dozen bloggers to promote us for free to their millions of subscribers.”
Parker laughed. “Touché.”
“But you're at that spot too.” The seriousness returned to Chloe’s voice. “Maybe it was a rhetorical question, but that's what you do now—you decide if you're still heading in a direction you want to be.”
“Are you suggesting I quit if I don't like it?” When did he become beholden to a corporation’s whims? He did the travel blog specifically to avoid that.
“Not at all. The intro on our website that says we handpicked every contestant? I was the final sign-off. I loved what you did. I wanted you here.”
“Thanks.”
“And part of Ms. Passion’s warning included probation. I shouldn't tell you this, but she has to run her live streams through us on a four-second delay, and if she does anything like this again, we pull her immediately.”
That was something. “Then, thank you twice.”
He disconnected with Chloe, but that didn't clear the conversation from his thoughts.
“Hey.” Fiona wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and rested her cheek on his back. “Where’s your head?”
“Everywhere.” He covered her hands and leaned into the embrace. “How’d it go?”
“Bett
er than last time, I think?”
That didn’t sound promising. “Why the doubt?”
“They asked me a bunch of weird questions. A lot of them about Wyatt. Tell you about it over lunch?”
“Sounds good.” And between now and when they reached their destination, maybe he could shake the question repeating in his head.
Was his career still heading in a direction he wanted?
WYATT WASN’T HAPPY about working on a Sunday, especially since he needed to be in the office for his tasks. But most of his annoyance was directed at the why that had him here. The whole bombing thing... That the FBI and ATF were involved... That it spanned multiple states... That some dickless wonder had whatever manner of unresolved issues they thought could be fixed with blowing things up...
How long until someone was seriously injured? Killed?
His cellphone rang. Fiona’s name on the screen blanketed his foul mood. “Hey, sexy lady.”
“Hey, yourself. Is now a good time?” A strain ran through her voice.
He didn’t blame her. “It’s the perfect time. In fact, I need to take a break. Do you two want to meet somewhere? Coffee’s on me.”
“We’d love to.” The lilt in her tone would have made him smile, if it weren't for the unspoken but.
“What’s going on?”
She sighed. “It’s why I’m calling. Meeting in person probably isn’t the best idea.”
His concern spiked. “Red? Talk to me.”
“I spent the morning talking to the FBI. And I’m probably being paranoid telling you no, but they asked a lot of questions about you.”
Ominous. “Like what?” He had some solidly bad memories about the last time the police took a personal interest in him.
“They asked if I knew you. If I was with you last night. I guess that’s not a lot after all, but the questions didn’t focus on anyone else.”
He could let the idea take root and run away with his concern, but he didn’t do mindless panic. However, this might be a good time to try out that whole opening-up thing. “I did use to have a criminal record.” He kept his tone light.
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