Hidden Agenda

He walked into the living room, a grand space with a ceiling two stories high, ornate bookcases stretching the height of the walls, and various seating areas where people could nestle down and catch up.

Too bad there would be no nestling down and no catching up.

He slid his wet coat off, grateful that his clothes underneath were still dry. Then he grabbed some logs and put them on the hearth. He balled up some newspaper he’d found on the floor to use for kindling. Bailey stood close, watching his every move, and finally handed him some matches.

He watched as the paper caught flame. Something about the moment reminded him of how very alone he was now. Both parents dead. No brothers or sisters. No family of his own. There was nothing waiting for him if he left the CIA. Nothing.

“Your father always liked to make fires himself,” Bailey muttered, her voice breaking him from his thoughts. “He never let me help.”

Ed stepped back, waiting for the flames to come to life. “Sounds like my dad.”

He glanced at Bailey. Had he heard sorrow in the woman’s voice? She stood there with the sleeves of her sweatshirt pulled over her hands. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes downcast, almost sad. Maybe all of this defensiveness was because Bailey truly did care about his father. He didn’t have time to ponder it now.

A moment later, the fire hissed, yawned and finally roared to life. Bailey stepped closer and rubbed her hands together. Orange light danced across her face.

Her very pleasant face.

Not that it mattered to Ed. He squatted there, mesmerized by the flames for another moment.

After a few minutes, Bailey stepped back. Her gaze narrowed as she looked at something in the distance.

Then she froze. Sucked in a quick breath. Stepped back.

Ed sprang to his feet, tense and ready for action. “What is it?”

Her wide eyes met his. “You came in through the back door, right?”

“That’s correct.”

She pointed toward the front door. “Then who left those wet footprints there?”

* * *

Bailey grabbed the fire poker and wrapped her fingers firmly around the handle. If there was someone else in this house, she was going to be prepared to fight him or her. Right beside Ed.

She didn’t think Ed was the most upstanding guy, but she also didn’t think he’d harm her.

Unless he continued to suspect she had something to do with his father’s death.

Which was absurd.

Just then, Ed turned from scanning the room. He looked back at her, and she sucked in another deep breath.

The firelight revealed the intricacies of his face.

Startling blue eyes, thick dark hair, perfectly proportioned features. He had a slight scar under his right eye and a small dimple at his chin.

It would have been better if Bailey had remained in the dark about how he looked. At least that way, in her mind, the man would have remained an ogre. Instead, he was good-looking enough for Hollywood. But his looks only added to her initial impression that he was shallow and superficial.

“Were you expecting anyone else?” Ed asked, pulling out his gun.

Bailey shook her head. “No one. Not even you.”

“Anyone else have a key?”

“No. Not even you, apparently.” She bit her lip. She really had to get control of her tongue and stop spouting off everything that came into her mind.

“Mine doesn’t work anymore. Thank you,” he added with a touch of sarcasm. “I might also add that I had a key and you didn’t know about it. There could be others.”

Bailey’s mind raced through the possibilities. “If someone else was here, why didn’t they announce their entrance?”

“Maybe he or she didn’t realize you were here. The door’s intact. No one broke it down in order to get inside.” He reached for his gun. “Stay here.”

“That’s a switch from your earlier order to stay with you.”

He scowled. “I’m trying not to get you killed.”

“And earlier?”

He sighed. “We could stand here and argue all day. I’d feel better if I followed the footsteps just in case there’s someone less than honorable waiting at the end of the trail.”

“And I’d feel better if I carried my weight.” She still didn’t trust the man, but she’d come to find a certain amount of security in his presence, even in the short amount of time since they’d met. As thunder rumbled again, she gripped the poker tighter. “No way am I staying here by myself.”

It had seemed like a good idea earlier, when she was up in the hallway and feeling stubborn. But now that she knew someone else was definitely here, the thought of being alone seemed terrifying.

He stared at her another moment before shrugging. “Fine. Suit yourself. But be careful.”

She shivered. They couldn’t blame those footprints on the wind or the storm, as she’d done with the other calamities around the place. No, someone had clearly been here. Recently.

Ed bent toward the footprints and began following them through the living room, down the east wing.

Bailey stayed behind Ed. Near enough to touch him. Scared enough that she wanted to grab ahold of his jacket.

But she wouldn’t do that.

He followed the trail. Out of the living room. Through the downstairs hallway.

The tracks stopped in front of the library.

Ed turned, only Bailey was right behind him. He was close—too close. Close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from him. That she caught another whiff of his cologne. That her heart leaped into her throat.

He didn’t seem affected.

He twisted the handle. “It’s locked.”

Bailey shook her head. “That room is never locked.”

“Stay back.” His tone left no room for argument.