“On finding the name behind the trafficking of money through your accounts,” he said quickly.
“Don’t scare me like that,” she scolded.
“Seems all the secrets are on the table . . . unless you’re hiding something.”
Gabi took another look around to ensure no one was listening. “My skeletal closets are empty, Hunter.”
“Good to know.”
“Your PI doesn’t need to worry about any more trafficking. I put a stop to that.”
“You what?”
“The night you cornered me with the information I found both accounts. It only took me a few tries to figure out Alonzo’s passwords. He never was that clever about numbers. When I backed out of the accounts, I changed them.”
“Oh, Gabi . . . no. You didn’t.” Distress laced Hunter’s voice.
“Yes, I did. I don’t want someone going around using my name on an account with that kind of money in it. Freezing the accounts until I could hire someone to find the person behind them seemed the best course of action.”
“No, no, no, no . . .”
She turned toward the wall, lowered her voice. “What?”
“Think about it. Whoever has their hands on that money can no longer access it. That’s gonna piss someone off.”
The smugness of a moment ago was gone now. “I didn’t consider that.”
“I’m switching gears . . . you need a bodyguard until we have this sorted out.”
“That’s ridiculous, Hunter. I do not need a bodyguard.” Her words were louder this time, and several heads swiveled toward hers.
Gwen ended her conversation with Karen and started toward Gabi.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Hunter said.
Gwen stopped right in front of her, eyes sharp. “A bodyguard?”
Gabi lowered her cell phone from her ear. “It’s nothing, Gwen. Hunter’s being overprotective.”
Gwen placed her hands on her hips and glared. “I’ve found that when a man as rich as Hunter thinks you need a bodyguard . . . you need a bodyguard. Tell him I’ll have Neil give him a call.”
Gabi placed her hand over the receiver of her phone. “I don’t need—”
With one swift movement, Gwen snatched the phone from her hand and put it to her ear. “Hi Hunter, it’s Gwen. Yes, it’s been a long time. Right, one of my brother’s weddings . . .” Gwen laughed and then kept talking. “Listen, about a bodyguard, my husband heads up Blake’s security . . . yes, that’s right, Neil . . . brilliant. So glad you remember. I look forward to it. Anytime.”
Gwen lifted her chin, handed the phone back, and walked away.
“Happy now?” Gabi asked Hunter once she lifted the phone to hear ear again.
“Very. One less thing to research. I’m going to come by and pick you up.”
“Enough. I’m not a child.” And she was getting a little more than slightly irritated with everyone handling her.
“Maybe I just want to see you.”
He was lying, but the words were sweet. “Why haven’t you jumped in front of a bus yet?” she asked.
He started to laugh. “There’s my girl. You need to eat. I’ll pick you up at five in the lobby.”
“If you don’t get hit by a bus first.” There was no bite in her voice.
“I’ll try. If not, I’ll see you at five.”
“Fine, but nothing fancy. I’m not dressed for fancy.”
After disconnecting the call, Gabi returned to the waiting room couch and an internal interrogation.
“So,” Gwen started, “what’s this about needing a bodyguard?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was ten minutes before five, and the hospital walls had started to close in. Stepping into the cool fresh air outside to wait for Hunter appealed on a very high level.
It was already dusk, but a recent dusting of rain left the air crisp and moist. Gabi pulled up to the side of the building and leaned against it. After hours of sitting, drinking tea, and attempting to cheer up her boss and friend, she was in need of a break. Hospitals, ICUs, and patients on ventilators were triggers for too many bad memories. She hadn’t realized the stress on her shoulders until she noticed Hunter walking toward her.
He was dressed more casually than she’d ever seen him. Jeans and a jacket . . . and running shoes? Maybe it was his multitasking outfit.
She pushed off the side of the building to greet him. “You didn’t have to park.”
He stopped short and silently stared.
She moved closer, thinking he would greet her with a kiss. “What? Did your tongue step in front of the bus?”
A complete look of confusion crossed his face and Gabi felt her smile fall.
“You must be her.”
“What?”
“Hunter’s wife.”
Gabi stepped back. In an instant, she realized her mistake. Dear Lord, they looked exactly the same. “Oh.”
“You’re more beautiful than the pictures in the magazines,” Noah said . . . the inflection in his voice mimicked her husband.
A charming smile, one Gabi had seen a few times on Hunter’s face since Dallas, put her on edge more than she expected.
“I thought you were Hunter.”