Tennyson clenched his teeth. “The last thing I want to do is upset her. But her feeling better won’t make her safer.” He turned to her. “Mallory, you understand that, don’t you? There’s more on the line here than just raising awareness. Your life is at stake, and I feel like I’m the only one who sees it.”
Grant threw his hands in the air and stepped back. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this. You’re fired. I’ll find a replacement for you.”
Mallory’s heart pounded in her ears. Fire Tennyson? He’d been the one bright spot in all of this. “Grant . . .”
“You put me in charge of this tour. I can’t work with him anymore.”
Tennyson pressed his lips together. “You’re being irrational.”
“If there’s one thing I expect from my employees it’s that they respect my authority—something you obviously have a problem with. You’re done.”
Mallory couldn’t stand the thought of continuing this without Tennyson. “I’m overriding your decision. Tennyson stays.”
Both men turned toward her, almost like they’d forgotten she was there.
“What are you talking about?” Grant sputtered.
She raised her chin. “I don’t want anyone else on my security team.”
“Mallory, this is a mistake—”
“Don’t talk to me about mistakes. I’m a grown, capable woman, and I can make my own choices. If Tennyson isn’t on my team, then I’m canceling my tour. He’s the only one I feel safe with. You two are going to have to work it out somehow, because I’m the one who’s calling the shots. And frankly, Grant, if you continue to talk to me like this, you’re going to be the one who goes.”
Grant remained silent a moment before taking a step back. His voice was notably calmer when he spoke again. “I’m the reason this tour has gotten so much attention.”
“Grant . . .” Her voice held warning. If he hadn’t been such a good friend to her, she would fire him right now.
Finally, he nodded. “I’ll respect your decision. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to burn off some steam in the gym downstairs.”
With that, he stomped into his bedroom and shut the door.
With Grant gone, Tennyson turned toward Mallory. His heart hammered in his chest. He hadn’t intended on having that conversation with Grant in front of Mallory. He didn’t want to upset her. She had enough on her mind as it was.
But he didn’t want to see anyone take advantage of her either.
His pulse quickened as he looked at Mallory, and he realized just how much she’d come to mean to him. He didn’t just want to guard her as a professional. He wanted this job because he cared about her.
Caring about her could compromise his effectiveness at the job, though. He couldn’t go there again. Couldn’t let someone else get hurt on his watch.
That’s why he had to squash these feelings before they grew any stronger. That was one reason, at least.
“I’m sorry about that,” he started.
Mallory raised her head, her eyes daring anyone to defy her. “Don’t be sorry. It needed to be said.”
He stepped closer, something internal drawing him toward her. “Why did you want to keep me around?”
“You’re a part of this team, Tennyson. I was at the mercy of a man who had total control of my life for a year. I don’t want that again. I need the freedom to make my own choices.”
“I think that’s healthy. You should be the one calling the shots.”
She released a deep breath and took a step back. He wondered about her reaction but said nothing as she paced away from him.
“I do wonder if I need to increase my security. You and Kori are doing a good job, but I’d really like for you to focus on figuring out who’s behind these threats. You can’t do that if you’re watching me.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
Should he ask about Stone joining the team? Tennyson mentally shook his head. No, he just couldn’t do it. He wanted to trust Stone, but the man wasn’t playing straight with him.
Mallory leveled her gaze at him. “There’s one other thing: I want to help.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t want to sit idly by.”
“You just need to concentrate on staying safe.”
“Tennyson . . . I’m a big girl. No one has more at stake here than me.”
He swallowed hard. “I can understand where you’re coming from.”
“You’re certain you saw Sanchez today?” Mallory pulled her arms across her chest.
He nodded, the earlier encounter flashing back to him. “It definitely looked like him.”
She sat down and let her head rest against the back of the couch. “How about the women who died. Have you heard any updates on them?”
“I talked to Agent Turner this morning. They think the women are from Germany, but they’re still following some leads. There are no answers yet.”
“I’m in a pressure cooker. Everything keeps squeezing in tighter and tighter. I don’t want to make any mistakes that put other people in danger. On the other hand, I don’t want to live in fear.”
The honesty in her words gripped his heart. “How about you just take it day by day?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, but the answers feel far away. In fact, it seems like the only way I’ll find out any answers is if more threats are made against me.” She looked away toward the window and the nighttime sky outside.
“Fear isn’t always bad. It’s our body’s natural defense mechanism. It keeps us alive.”
“But living in fear every moment is no way to live.”
“No, it’s not.” Nor was living with bitterness or vindictiveness. The decision not to go there was a daily one.
“Do you really think Grant isn’t trustworthy?”
“What do you think?” He didn’t want to be the one to burst her bubble. She needed to draw those conclusions herself.
“I think he’s brilliant when it comes to PR. He’s an expert at taking tragedy and making it marketable.”
“That’s . . . quite an attribute.”
“He was behind Lynette Davis, the only woman who survived that mass shooting down in Texas five years ago. She’s practically a household name.” She frowned. “However, I don’t care about being famous. I could disappear and be perfectly content at this point. But I do want to raise awareness. That’s what all of this is about.”
He believed her. He saw the sincerity in her eyes. “That’s noble.”
“I have to do something to turn this tragedy around. I don’t want to think that all of the . . . the trials, the heartache, the pain . . . that it all happened for nothing. If I can help someone else in their healing, then maybe I can find healing myself.”
Their eyes met. Something unseen and magnetic seemed to pull him toward her. But he couldn’t fall under its power.
“I think that’s wise,” he said quietly.
She cleared her throat and reached into her purse. She’d felt it too, he realized. There was a connection between them—a connection stronger than their pasts, than this situation, than the momentary.
“I have an interview tomorrow,” she continued. “What do you think? Will it be safe?”
As he started to answer, Mallory’s gaze traveled to the ground. A piece of paper had fluttered out of her bag and onto the floor. She reached down to grab it. When she opened the folds, she sucked in a breath.
In an instant, Tennyson was by her side. He read over her shoulder.
Hide before I do something I regret.
CHAPTER 18
Hiding Mallory away was exactly what Tennyson wanted to do.
But Mallory wouldn’t go for it. I won’t let him silence me again. That’s what she’d told him after finding the note. Hiding isn’t the answer.
But the threat was real, and it was becoming more real by the moment. How was he supposed to get through to her?
Until he could,
he had to up his game plan. He and Kori had met earlier and discussed ways to increase security and limit risks.
The note in particular had left Tennyson unsettled. The only time someone could have left it was when he was chasing Sanchez, and Kori and Grant had pulled Mallory away.
That meant there was more than one person involved in this. Bringing a third guard on wasn’t a bad idea. So was canceling this whole tour, but Mallory wasn’t ready to do that yet. She had too much at stake. She wouldn’t let people threaten her into retreating.
Just like now. Despite everything that had happened during the day, and after finding the note, she’d still insisted on going out to eat. In public. Not in the safety of their hotel room. He sat with her, while Kori had been stationed at the restaurant’s entrance.
Tennyson glanced at Mallory as they sat across from each other at dinner. At her pensive expression. At her quiet dignity. Just what was going through her head? He wanted to grab her hand as it rested on the table.
But he couldn’t let himself do that.
“Grant texted me,” Tennyson started. “He thinks one of the reporters who’d been at Hope House took that video. He’s trying to get in contact with him now about taking it down.”
“That’s good to know.” She played absently with her fork, her eyes still troubled. “What do you think the note means?”
“It sounds like someone feels these acts against you are out of his control.”
“So he’s psychotic?”
Tennyson let out a soft breath, contemplating how much to say. “Possibly. He’s oddly concerned yet admitting he could harm you. I’m not sure what to think about that, honestly. I called Agent Turner and let him know about it.”
She stared at him another moment, her gaze penetrating and deep. He waited for her to say whatever was on her mind.
“I keep thinking about Dante still being alive,” Mallory finally said.
Tennyson blanched, startled. “You do?”
She shrugged. “Humor me a moment. What if he really did somehow survive?”
Tennyson didn’t say anything for a moment.
“In a way, it makes sense,” Mallory continued.
Tennyson squinted. “What does?”
“That he could be alive.”
“What are you saying, Mallory?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip before saying, “I’ve been afraid of how people would perceive me if I ever voiced my thoughts aloud. I didn’t want to be taken off tour because it would mean going back to being alone with my thoughts. But . . .”
“What are you thinking?”
She pulled her eyes up to meet his. “It’s always struck me as strange that Dante set himself on fire. Why would he do that?”
Mallory had never wanted to release the thought into the open. But now she had no choice but to face it head-on.
“You don’t believe Dante would set himself on fire?” Tennyson’s gaze looked intense as it met hers.
She shook her head, surprise etching through her as she realized that Tennyson didn’t think the very idea was crazy. “I’ve always thought it was strange the way things played out that night.”
“Why?” His smoldering gaze remained on her.
The intensity of it nearly took her breath away.
Even if she’d had doubts in the back of her mind about that night, she had simply tried to be grateful that the man who’d enslaved her was dead.
But now, if she could share them with anyone, it was Tennyson.
“Dante had an ego. I suppose, in one way, setting himself on fire would maintain his control of the situation. But that wasn’t the Dante I knew. He was too confident. He didn’t think he could be defeated. So to plan something like that . . .” She shook her head, not wanting to believe there was any truth to her words.
“Did you ever tell anyone that theory?”
It wasn’t the question she’d expected him to ask. “No, I figured they’d think I was crazy. Besides, no one ever asked. In the long run, it didn’t matter. Dante was dead, right? So all of my intuition didn’t mean anything in the face of the truth.”
Tennyson’s shoulders seemed to relax some. He pulled his gaze away from her, before finally looking back at her.
“You’re not crazy, Mallory.”
Mallory drew in a long, deep breath. She needed to make sense of her jumble of thoughts and get a grip. She couldn’t think in worst-case scenarios. Because the worst-case scenario of Dante being alive . . . it was the stuff of nightmares. The stuff that would send her back to therapy.
“What if Dante is really out there calling all the shots?” Mallory asked.
Tennyson shifted. “You really think that’s a possibility? That he’s reappeared after two years?”
She rubbed the edge of her napkin. “I’m not sure. I just . . . I just keep thinking I see him.”
“Do you?” Tennyson leaned closer. “I thought it was an isolated event.
She shrugged. “I know it’s ridiculous. I know it’s just my mind playing tricks. But I keep thinking I see his face in crowds.”
“What would that do to you if he was still alive?”
“I don’t know.” She licked her lips. “Honestly, the very thought of it sends me reeling. It makes me want to do the very thing that note warned about: it makes me want to hide. Forever. And never come out.”
His voice softened. “I can only imagine.”
“It’s almost like I can face this, knowing he’s dead and can’t harm me anymore. But the thought of ever coming face-to-face with the man again . . .” She visibly shuddered. “I don’t know if I can handle it. Everything inside me wants to die at the thought.”
Tennyson wrestled with his thoughts as they returned to the room after dinner. What if Mallory really had seen Dante? Tennyson wondered. If he was alive and following her? Was this part of the evidence they were looking for? His mind raced with possibilities and that old, familiar sense of vengeance tried to rear its head again. If Dante really was alive . . . Fire burned in Tennyson’s blood.
He stepped into the suite while Mallory waited with Kori in the hallway. Right before he flipped the lights on, he saw a man’s silhouette sitting in one of the living room chairs. He snatched his gun from the holster.
When he turned on the lights, a familiar figure came into view. “Stone . . . ,” he muttered.
Mallory stepped inside behind him, despite Kori’s protests. “Do you know him?”
He sighed and lowered his gun. “Unfortunately. What are you doing here?”
Ethan had his most charming smile plastered on his face as he sat in an accent chair, looking like he belonged in a space that clearly wasn’t his.
“Who is he?” Mallory asked, curiosity saturating her voice.
“I’m an old friend of Tennyson’s. Ethan Stone.”
Mallory glanced at Tennyson. “Is that right?”
After a moment of thought, Tennyson nodded. “It is.”
“He’s always been quite the charmer with the ladies, you know.” Stone winked at Mallory. “He could have any woman he wanted. And that he did. Single, taken, it didn’t matter.”
Anger simmered inside Tennyson, but he knew he couldn’t let Stone get the best of him. That was exactly what the man wanted. “Why are you here, Stone?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what? How’d you get in here?”
“That’s not important.”
Before Stone could say anything else, his phone rang. He put it to his ear and muttered something in Spanish.
Mallory gripped her stomach. Her skin paled.
She was remembering something, Tennyson realized. He took her arm, trying to pull her back down to reality. “Mallory?”
When she looked up, her gaze flew to Stone. Her shock disappeared and anger replaced it.
She pointed to Stone. “I know that voice. You’re one of Dante’s men.”
CHAPTER 19
Stone lost his cool composure, but only for a s
econd. His gaze was noticeably darker; his glib tone was gone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fear and anger collided into a surging whirlpool inside Mallory. What was going on here? Had all of this been planned? Was Tennyson in on it?
She backed up, putting as much distance as she could between herself and this man . . . this supposed friend of Tennyson’s. “I didn’t realize it until I heard you speaking Spanish. I’d know that voice anywhere.”
Stone let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’re wrong.”
Betrayal smacked her like a punch in the gut. Had she done it again? Had she been too trusting of the wrong people? Tennyson had seemed like a good guy this whole time, but what if he wasn’t?
“No, I’m not wrong.” Her gaze turned to Tennyson, and she took a step back. “You’re a part of this. You’re somehow in Dante’s pocket also.”
“Mallory, I need to explain—” Tennyson started. He reached for her hand, but she jerked farther back. She rushed toward the door, desperate to get away.
“Mallory—wait!” Tennyson pleaded.
She grabbed the door handle, but her hands shook so badly she couldn’t open it.
Tennyson stopped behind her, his voice pleading. “Please let me explain. This isn’t what it looks like, nor did I realize Stone would be showing up here.”
She paused.
“Mallory, you can trust me. Please.”
She thought about it. Questioned her sanity. Questioned her safety. Finally, she stopped and turned toward him. “You’ve got five seconds.”
“I know this is difficult to hear, but this is my fault. I’ll start.” Stone raised his voice from where he was sitting. He glanced at Tennyson. “Yes, Tennyson had no idea I was going to show up here tonight.”
Her eyes bounced from one man to the other. “How do you know each other?”
“We know each other from Iraq,” Tennyson said. “He works for the NSA now.”
Her fiery gaze fell on Stone. “The NSA?”
“Formerly CIA.” He nodded. “I was embedded in Inferno, trying to get information.”
His confession echoed in her mind. He’d been there. With Dante. Acting loyal to the man.
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