Counting On Cole (Wilde Ways #8) - Cynthia Eden Page 0,23
grimly.
Great. So she could have new kidnappers?
“They’re going down, Evie. New or old, doesn’t matter. They’ll be stopped,” Cole promised. He seemed so very certain.
But they’d gotten away last time. Vanished into the air. Just as Cole had seemed to vanish.
Harrison cleared his throat. “I have enemies in my business. Real estate isn’t exactly a friendly game.” Harrison still had his hand curved over her shoulder. “My father made plenty of enemies, too. The way the asshole said in his email that we had to pay back what my father owed—sounded to me like it might be tied to some deal that went south.”
Cole nodded. “Our agents are tearing into your father’s financials even as we speak.”
She felt Harrison stiffen.
“The first time you were taken,” Cole told her softly, “I was a mercenary hired by your brother. I’d been part of Delta Force, but I was working freelance when Harrison reached out to me. I assembled my own team, and we got you out.”
Wait, a mercenary? As in, like, a gun for hire? Was that a thing, outside of movies? She’d pretty much just thought of him as a hero, and she hadn’t—
“This time, I’m working with Wilde. Eric Wilde has pretty much limitless resources. His tech team is the best. We’re going to get the perps. We’re going to throw them in cages, and they will never get out.”
At the lethal intensity in his words, a shiver slid over her skin.
***
“Cole!”
He hadn’t been sleeping. Cole had been flopped on the lumpy, pullout couch in Evie’s living room, staring up at the ceiling, and trying hard to not fantasize about her.
Then she screamed.
For an instant, his heart stopped.
In the next second, he was on his feet and racing to her bedroom. He shoved open the bedroom door—
“I’m all right!”
A lamp had been left on near her bed—it sent illumination pouring from the nightstand.
Evie sat up in bed. She clutched a white comforter to her chest. “I’m all right,” she repeated quickly.
“You screamed.” His heart slammed into his chest. His gaze cut around the room as Cole searched for threats.
“I’m all right,” she said once more. “You can go back to sleep.”
Seriously? Not happening. Cole strode forward. “What happened?”
Her cute little pink tongue licked over her upper lip. “Bad dream. We all have them.”
His muscles tensed. “You screamed for me.”
He saw her swallow. “Yes.”
Okay, he did not like the growing suspicion he had. “Baby, do you always sleep with a light on?” He motioned toward the lamp.
Her stare darted to the lamp. “I…forgot to turn it off when I went to bed.” She shook her head, hard, sending her hair swinging against her cheeks. “Wait, did you call me baby?”
He had. A slip. He wasn’t about to be distracted. He strode toward the edge of the bed. Her scent—vanilla cream—filled his nostrils. “I thought you didn’t like to lie.”
She peered down at her comforter, not at him. “I don’t like to lie,” she mumbled. “Doesn’t mean I don’t try it every now and then.”
Cole waited.
“You can go back to sleep,” she told him again.
Obviously, it was a dismissal.
Obviously, he wasn’t in the mood to be dismissed. At least, not until he got the answers that he needed. “Tell me what I want to know, then I’ll head back to the couch from hell.”
Her head whipped up. “Is it that lumpy?”
“I don’t know that lumpy is quite the right word. Springs were shoving into my ass. I think they left impressions.”
She winced.
“I’ve had worse.” Plenty worse. A thousand times worse. “Answer my questions.”
Her breath huffed out. She looked mutinous and way too cute as she snapped, “Fine. Ask them.”
“Do you always sleep with a light on?”
Her lips pressed together. He didn’t think she was going to reply even though she’d said—
“Yes, I do.” Her chin notched up toward him. “After being trapped in a closet for over twenty-four hours, I developed a bit of a phobia. I don’t like the dark, so I keep a lamp on when I sleep.” Her nostrils flared. “Because when I wake up and it’s pitch black, sometimes, I think I’m back there.”
A fist grabbed his heart.
“Nyctophobia.”
His brow scrunched.
“It’s a fear or phobia of the dark. Lots of people have it. I’m not alone.” She sounded defensive.
She didn’t need to be.
I never want you to be alone, sweetheart. He pushed ahead with his questions. “Do you still have nightmares about the abduction?”
“My therapist said it would be normal to have nightmares.”