Keeping Gemma (Holiday Cove 2)

Her house was the third house in the quiet cul-de-sac and no one even seemed to notice that I was stalking around her house or banging on her doors. I was relieved to not find a pack of O’Keefe’s cronies outside, or at the end of the block, but it was also disturbing that I could cause such a ruckus and not have even one nosy neighbor butting in.

As I strode back to my Jeep parked along the curb, I decided that Gemma would be staying with me until the nightmare was over.

Whether she liked it or not.

Although, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to convince her. I had my ways.

I leaned against the passenger door, folded my arms, and stared up the drive at her front door as I tried to work out my next move.

“Where the hell are you, Gemma?” I whispered.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pushed off the door and grabbed it. The screen was lit up with Gemma’s name and my entire body sagged with relief. “Gemma! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I was just about to ask you that same question. I got your message. What’s going on?” Her voice was impossible to get a read on. I needed to see her face to figure out what she was thinking—or at least have a shot.

“I’m fine. But I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and get over to your house. We’ll pack your bags and you’re coming to stay with me until this shit show has come to an end. It’s not safe anymore.” I darted a look around as an eerie feeling of being watched sunk into my skin. “Where are you?”

“Slow down, Aaron. What are you talking about?”

I pinched my eyes closed and tipped my head back. “Gemma, just tell me where you are. I know you’re not at the hospital and I know you’re not at home. I’m practically standing in your driveway.”

“What the hell?” The question was sharp and frustrated. “I’m out running some errands. Things were slow at the hospital and since I’m the new girl, I got sent home early for the day and am completing the rest of my shift on call.”

“I think O’Keefe has people watching you.”

She roared, “What?”

“Have you noticed anything?”

“Aaron, this is getting crazy.”

I wanted to laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Let’s just call the police.”

I shook my head. “I already told the FBI and FAA guys what’s going on. They can’t do anything. The local PD isn’t going to be able to do anything either. Just hurry back. I’ll stay here until you get here and help you pack.”

She was quiet and I could almost hear her mind working out a way out of my demands. Why was she fighting this so hard? We’d just spent the night before together at my place, and it had been fine. Better than fine, really. I was usually the one waiting to untangle the sheets and make a getaway. I hadn’t felt that way with Gemma. Had she?

“Gemma, please.”

I hated to beg, but this was too important to let my pride get in the way.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it might be a while. I’m not going to let this O’Keefe asshole disrupt my whole day.” She sighed, her frustration sizzling. “Go home and relax. I’ll come over as soon as I get back.”

My fingers clenched together. “I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time you need.”

“God, you’re so ridiculous! I don’t need a bodyguard.”

This wasn’t up for debate. I ignored her comment. “Keep an eye on the road behind you. Make sure you’re not being followed and call me if you see anything weird.”

She clicked off the line without another word and I glared at the phone in my hand. Damn it if I didn’t go and fall for the most stubborn woman on earth. With a scoff, I pocketed the phone after making sure the volume was as loud as it could go. I didn’t want to miss anything. Seconds after slipping it into my pocket, my ring tone sliced into the silence around me, and I jerked it from my pocket, nearly ripping out the pocket of my jeans.

My heart jolted into my throat. Had something happened? Was someone following her? Was she okay?

The name flashing on the screen told me it wasn’t Gemma. It was Lana. I blew out the panicked gasp and clicked onto the call. “Yes?”

“Uhm, oh, hi, Mr. Rosen. It’s Lana.” She was one of those people who failed to realize that every phone had caller ID and that there was no need to announce her name at the beginning of each call. “Are you coming back to the meeting?”

Fuck. I scrubbed a hand down my face. I’d gotten so caught up in everything with the agents, then O’Keefe, and making sure Gemma was okay, that I’d forgotten that my staff was sitting in the middle of Carly’s for a mandatory meeting. “No, Lana, something came up at the museum. I’m going to be there all day.”