Probably didn’t help that when he’d been getting dressed in the dark he’d come across the original receipt for the ring he’d bought months ago to give to Mel on their engagement. An engagement that had never developed further because it had been wrong from the start. Mel and Daveed made a great couple. So did Murphy and Shayma.
So do me and Aileen…
He shook off the forbidden thoughts, and concentrated on whisking the eggs into a froth for their omelets. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Aileen even liked omelets, but that shouldn’t be a problem because he also had cinnamon brioche French toast sizzling on the griddle and Applewood smoked bacon frying up in a pan. Plus, his housekeeper had stocked up the pantry with croissants and the fridge with fresh fruit. He figured out of that lot, there should be something that tickled his darling’s fancy.
By the time the food was done and the table was set, Aileen finally stumbled out, freshly showered and seeking caffeine. Heath fixed her a mug, then one for himself, then took a seat at the table across from her. They chatted about the weather, about the holiday, about their different traditions—her menorahs and dreidels and Hanukah. But the entire time, Heath couldn’t seem to get the idea of a new engagement ring out of his brain. All it would take was a call to the jewelers where he’d purchased the first one for Mel—the one she’d hocked for airfare home. This time though, thing felt different, were different. Still, it was an insane, ludicrous, incredibly compelling idea…
Nope. He wasn’t going there. Yes, he’d crossed boundaries with Aileen. Yes, they’d slept together. Yes, they had an undeniable connection that under different times, different circumstances, he might have willingly explored further. But this was his best bud’s little sister. His best bud, who still didn’t know that Aileen was alive and well.
Ugh.
He got up to start clearing the table and a knock sounded on the front door. Last night, he’d been expecting it. Today? Not so much.
Aileen pushed to her feet as well and began gathering dirty dishes. “More surprises?”
“Seems so,” Heath said, scowling. The knot of tension in his gut pulled tighter. It was Christmas. Who the hell made unexpected house calls on the holidays? Part of him wanted to grab his gun from the bedroom before answering, just in case. But the other part of him said he was overacting and to just answer the damned door already. With a sigh, he headed down the hall to the front of the brownstone and opened the door without checking, distracted by the sound of Aileen humming Christmas carols in the kitchen.
Before he knew what was happening, two huge thugs had him pinned to the wall, one of them with a choking hand around Heath’s neck. Being a SEAL, he was no slouch in the self-defense department, but these guys were good and obviously well-trained. While one guy kept Heath where he was, the other headed for the kitchen where Aileen was working.
Heath wanted to yell, to warn her, but the pressure against his windpipe prevented any noise from escaping. His vision tunneled as his brain was deprived of oxygen and Heath struggled to remain conscious. Aileen needed him. The woman he loved was in danger and he’d be damned if he went down without a fight.
“Hey! What the fuck?” Aileen’s yells echoed down the hallway. “Get your goddamned hands off me.”
Apparently she’d been taken by surprise too, otherwise she could’ve flattened both these guys given the way she’d taken Heath down the other night in his gym. The thug hauled Aileen out into the living room, kicking and screaming the whole way. She froze when she saw Heath against the wall. “Oh, God! Baby, what’s going on?”
All Heath could do was shake his head.
“Senator Lawrence wants a word with both of you,” the thug restraining Aileen said. “We’re here to take you to him. We can do that the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
“Just let him go and I’ll come with you,” she said, her eyes locked on Heath.
The thug released Heath’s neck and he slumped down the wall, gasping. His words emerged raspy. “Thanks.”
“Are you okay?” Aileen said, rushing to his side as soon as her captor released her.
“I’m fine.” He rubbed his sore throat and held up his hand, coughing. “We should go with them. Hear what the senator has to say.”
Aileen held his gaze for a moment longer. Heath did his best to convey through his look how much he cared for her and how he’d protect her with his life, if needed. In her amber eyes, he thought he saw an answering affection, but he couldn’t be sure.
Then Aileen turned to the thugs and straightened, her shoulders squared. “Fine. Journalism is about being fair. Let’s hear his side of the story and see if he can talk his way out of this one.”
* * *
Turned out the senator was staying at the Ritz-Carlton. Aileen followed the thugs into the dark-wood paneled lobby and past the towering Christmas trees lining the walls and over to a set of sleek silver elevators. Heath stayed close by her side, a muscular wall of don’t-fuck-with-me, his glowering stares at their escorts putting Aileen even more on edge.
The morning had started out so blissful too, with him making her breakfast and visions of the sweet, tender lovemaking they’d shared in the early morning hours still dancing in her head. Then this. Yes, work was a priority. Work was why she was here. But right now, work had taken a backseat to what she felt for a certain billionaire who’d swept her off her feet.
They rode up to the top floor in silence and proceeded into the Presidential Suite without comment. Her research on Milford Lawrence had left her with little doubt the guy had his sights set on the White House. This just confirmed her suspicions.
A woman sat on the couch, looking like she’d seen better days: dark circles beneath her eyes, hair mussed, dress stained and crooked. It took Aileen a moment to realize this was the senator’s wife. She looked a hell of a lot different from the last time Aileen had seen the woman at the charity ball. The air smelled of liquor and a half empty bottle of bourbon sat on the table in front of her.
“Ah, I see my guests have arrived,” Milford Lawrence said, emerging from a door near the back of the suite. “Honey, can you give us some privacy, please?”
The wife gave Aileen and Heath a flat stare then stumbled off through the doorway her husband had stepped through, slamming the door behind her.
“Mind telling me why you thought it was necessary to kidnap us on Christmas morning?” Aileen demanded, stepping closer to the little man who’d taken center stage in her life for the past few months. From his unimposing appearance, most people took Milford to be the kindly old gentleman from Kentucky that he portrayed to the world. But Aileen knew better. She saw past his slight paunch, his balding head and stooped shoulders to the ruthless con artist beneath.
“Just wait until this goes in my article. You can kiss your Senate seat goodbye.”