"I've got it." She slipped away to grab a Band-Aid out of the drawer. As she put it on, she said, "Let's talk about something else."
He was immensely relieved by the suggestion. "Go for it."
"What's happening with you and Adrienne?"
He inwardly groaned as he grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. "How about a different subject?"
"We can't talk about your girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend. We've just been hanging out."
"For two months," she said pointedly. "In which time, I've only seen her once. I want to get to know her better. Why don't you bring her around?"
"I will."
"When?"
"Sometime."
"I can keep secrets, you know."
He frowned at her comment. "I'm not worried about that."
"Good. Because you've moved beyond your past, Nathan. You're a completely different person."
"Exactly, so no reason to talk about it."
"But who you used to be—where we come from—it's part of you. You're going to have to share it with someone at some point."
"Why would I do that?" he challenged, taking a swig of water.
"Because it won't be a real relationship until you're completely honest."
"Who said anything about having a real relationship?"
She made a face at him. "Don't you want what I have? A family? The kind of family we always wanted?"
"I have you and Grace for that." As he finished speaking, the doorbell rang. "Are you expecting someone?"
"No, and the police promised me that they'd keep Grace's name out of the news, but I'm worried a reporter will find us."
"I'll get it. I'll send whoever it is away."
"Thanks," she said with relief. "Once they're gone, we'll have lunch."
He walked down the hall and opened the front door, prepared to get rid of whoever was there. But the woman on the porch stole the breath out of his chest… her light-brown hair, her compelling green eyes, the hot, sexy mouth that he'd spent too many nights dreaming about.
Damn!
He hadn't seen her in over ten years, but the time in between suddenly vanished, and he felt like he was once again standing on the edge of a ledge with a woman who could save him or push him off.
Her jaw dropped as the same kind of wonder filled her gaze.
"Nathan?"
Her sweet voice socked him in the gut.
"Bree? What the hell are you doing here?" The question came out more aggressive than it probably should have, but he wasn't ready to see her again.
"I was going to ask you the same question." She licked her lips. "I'm looking for Grace Roberts."
"Are you a reporter now?"
"No." She pulled open her navy-blue blazer, revealing navy-blue slacks and a white shirt, but it was the shiny piece of metal at her waist that shocked him for the second time in the last sixty seconds. "I'm an FBI special agent."
"No way!"
"It's true."
"You? You became a fed? How did they let you in?"
She frowned at his attacking words. "They let me in, because I'm good at the job. Who is Grace to you?"
"She's my niece."
Now it was Bree's turn to be surprised. "Seriously? Grace is Josie's daughter? Josie is okay? Last time I saw her, I wasn't sure…"
"She's been okay for a while," he said shortly. "Up until last night when one of her daughter's best friends was abducted. Now she's a mess, terrified for Grace and for Hayley."
"That's why I'm here. I need to speak to Grace about what happened. Let me in, Nathan."
He suddenly realized he was blocking the door. He took a step back and waved her into the house, which felt like the absolutely wrong thing to do.
Letting her into Josie's house, into his life—was he crazy?
But this wasn't about the past; it was about Hayley.
"I'll get my sister. Wait here." He walked down the hall and into the kitchen, still having trouble taking in a full breath.
"Who was it?" Josie asked. "A reporter?"
"No." He closed the kitchen door behind him. "It's an FBI agent. She wants to talk to Grace."
Josie frowned. "But Grace already spoke to the police—several different detectives. It's just going to upset her all over again. Can't you get rid of her?"
"Believe me, I want to," he said tersely. "But she's not going anywhere."
"Then I'll talk to her. I'll tell her Grace isn't up to it."
"Wait." He grabbed her arm as she came around the counter.
"What?" Josie asked, a question in her eyes.
"It's Bree."
She blinked in confusion, and then that confusion turned to shock. "Bree? No."
"Yes."
"She's an FBI agent? How—how is that possible?"
"No idea. But she showed me her badge. She's working on Hayley's disappearance."
Josie stared back at him. "I didn't think she'd ever come back to Chicago."
"I didn't, either."
"I don't know exactly what happened between—"
"And it's not important," he said, cutting her off. "Just don't say anything personal about you or me or what we're doing now."
"What are you worried about, Nathan?"
"Everything," he muttered, letting go of his sister's arm.
As Josie left the room, he drew in a deep breath. He needed a minute to get his head together.
Bree—he'd never thought he'd see her again.
The years had been good to her. In fact, she looked better now than she had the last time he'd seen her. Then she'd been pale, scared, and a little broken. Now, she was sharp, clear-eyed, confident, and…strikingly pretty.
She'd clearly gotten her life together.
Well, so had he, and he wasn't going to let her drag him backward.
*
Bree paced restlessly around the living room, her nerves on edge, her stomach churning with nausea, her head aching with tension. She'd told herself that coming back to Chicago did not mean going back in time, but that's exactly where Nathan Bishop had taken her.
Nathan! How could he be here? How could the only eyewitness be connected to him?
It was improbable and yet it was true.
The last time she'd seen him had been at the bus station. She'd been eighteen; he'd been nineteen—skinny and long-haired and…angry. He didn't want to be there, but she'd called in an old debt, and he'd paid up.
Apparently, his anger at her hadn't diminished over the years. He had definitely not looked happy to see her.
But he had looked good. He'd become a man—a muscled, fit, handsome man. He still had the thick brown hair that always looked windblown, a shadow of beard on his jaw, and light-brown eyes that could be kind and friendly but also piercing and judgmental.
When they were kids, she'd mostly seen the friendly side of Nathan, but as they got older, as they moved into their late teens, that had changed.
A woman entered the living room, and the butterfly tattoo on her neck told her it was Josie, Nathan's little sister. Josie's hair was darker than she remembered. Her skin was healthy, her eyes worried, but she looked far more alert now than she had as a drug-addicted teenager.
She'd actually gone with Josie when she'd gotten the tattoo against the wishes of her big brother. Josie had wanted a symbol of freedom, something to strive for, something to believe in, and Bree had wanted that for her, too.
In return, Josie had not treated her very well.
Her relationship with both Bishops had certainly been fraught with problems.
Josie shook her head in bemusement. "Nathan said it was you, but I can't believe it—Bree Larson."
"Actually, it's Bree Adams now."
"You got married?" Josie asked.
"No, I just changed my last name."
"To become an FBI agent?"
"I had a lot of reasons. But, yes, I am an agent. I'm part of a critical action team that assists with child abductions, and I need to speak to Grace." If she could keep this all business, it would be better for all of them.
Josie stiffened, the bewildered look in her eyes turning into protective maternal fierceness. "Grace has already told the police everything she knows, and it upsets her to talk about it. She and Hayley are very close."
"I understand," she said gently. "I know she's scared—as are you, because Grace was so close to Hayley when this happened."
Josie's eyes watered. "It could have been her."