Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,28

of the washing machine. “Go sit on the couch and call the senior center to let them know you won’t be volunteering today.”

“But I have to go.” I want to tell Mathilda that the Christmas concert doesn’t need to be canceled.

“No, you don’t. You’re still shaken. Plus, you and I need to talk about something.”

That piques my curiosity. “What?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Now go sit. Or else I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you to the couch myself.” The humor in his tone is overridden by the gleam in his eyes of someone who doesn’t accept no for an answer very often.

He holds out his hands for Whiskey. I pass him the little furball.

The furball gazes adoringly up at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to adopt him?” I ask. “He really likes you.”

“I like him, too, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep him for the long term. I’m just the temporary home until he finds something better.”

If you ask me, Whiskey has already found something better, and he agrees with my assessment.

Landon grabs Whiskey’s leash and heads for the front door. I sit on the couch in the living room and phone Mathilda. I explain why I won’t be able to volunteer and tell her the good news about the concert.

“That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Chloe. The residents will be thrilled when they hear the great news.”

The warmth from her words fills me—her concern over what happened, the relief about the show. It chases away some of the residual chill that remains even after holding Whiskey.

We talk for a few more minutes until I hear the front door click shut, and I end the call.

Landon enters the living room and places Whiskey on my lap. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heads to the kitchen and returns soon after with two glasses containing an amber liquid. He hands one to me.

I take it from him and sniff it. “What is it?”

“Whiskey.”

“When you said whiskey would make me feel better, I thought you meant this little guy.” I nod at the puppy in question.

Landon shrugs and sits next to me.

Whiskey—the puppy—settles himself on my lap.

I sip the lukewarm liquid. It burns going down, and I cough. The movement nearly bounces Whiskey off my lap. “Sorry,” I tell him, my eyes tearing up from the drink.

He gives me a happy, unperturbed doggy grin and settles himself again.

“You said you need to talk to me about something,” I say to Landon, still curious at what he has to tell me. Happy to talk about anything other than the attack.

Landon takes a long draw of his drink, but unlike me, he doesn’t cough. “I’m not exactly an elementary school teacher.”

“That’s right. You usually teach high school.”

He shakes his head, the movement slow and emphatic.

“You don’t usually teach high school, either? But you’re a substitute teacher, right?”

“Nope. I work for a company that people hire for security purposes.”

“You mean you install security devices in homes and businesses?”

He laughs under his breath. “Nothing like that.”

“So, like a bodyguard?”

“It depends on the individual client’s needs. There are other things we do, too.”

I nod as if I understand when in truth, I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum. “Okaaay. If you’re not a substitute teacher, why are you at my school pretending to be one?”

“Because our client believes your life is in danger.”

“Danger? I teach kindergarteners. How can my life be in danger? I mean, other than what happened at school. But that was a random attack. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

And that’s when I get it—helped along by Landon’s serious expression. “It wasn’t random, was it? Is this because of my family?”

Well, doesn’t that just poop all?

And to think that all this time, I’d thought that by turning my back on my family, I would be free from the lifestyle I wanted nothing to do with. But in the end, it had been little more than an allusion.

Once you become part of that family, there’s no escaping.

I’d heard stories over the years that people who worked for my grandfather but then wanted out ended up swimming with the fishes—or the sharks.

At first, I’d thought it was nothing but a myth, like Greek gods, dragons, and Cyclops.

I was wrong.

Just like I was wrong in believing I had truly walked away from my family.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“My client found out a contract had possibly been placed on your head. After what happened today, it’s no longer a possibility.