“Don’t tell me to . . .” She couldn’t even finish the sentence over the frantic heartbeat thundering in her chest. She glanced at the one person in the room who might explain all of this. “Senator?”
“It’s okay.” The senator shot her a pained expression. A mix of sympathy and a wince. “Emery, you don’t need to panic.”
“You just told me his name was Brian.” She searched her mind for the last name the senator dropped, but her brain cells refused to function. She hoped to kick it out later because she’d need it when she searched. And she would be doing a search.
The senator shrugged. “It usually is.”
“Emery,” he said with a booming voice. “I am Wren. Not many people know that, and we’ll have a serious discussion about discretion and the importance of you keeping this secret, but I assure you that’s my name.”
Her brain clicked into action again. “And I’m supposed to believe you.”
“I promise you it’s fine,” the senator said.
“How can you say that?” Emery felt the exact opposite of fine. Her pulse raced and the room started spinning. She had to focus on the senator’s face to keep from grabbing on to the edge of the desk or falling down.
“I’ve known him for years.” Some of the stiffness left the senator’s shoulders. “And there are guards everywhere in this place. He wouldn’t touch you, but even if he wanted to he can’t.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said.
“You’re Wren.” Emery held on to the back of the chair she just abandoned. Dug her fingers into the leather. Willed her brain to catch up with the discussion so she wouldn’t feel as if she were trapped in a maze.
“Yes.” That’s it. No explanation. Nothing.
“You are actually him.” She needed to repeat it to make it sink in.
His eyebrow lifted. “Still, yes.”
“I’m supposed to believe some mysterious guy whose name scares the crap out of everyone in power in this town just walked into a coffee shop and had a chat with me yesterday.” But a part of her had to admit it made sense. He’d studied her, assessed every word. She wrote the whole strange scene off as something he was ordered to do and report back to the real Wren. Now she knew better.
The senator’s chair creaked as she leaned back. “We’re all confused about that part of the story.”
He nodded as he sat down in the chair next to her. “Out of character, I agree.”
“I assure you, Emery. This is him,” the senator said, talking right over him.
Emery had so many questions. The basic ones and the ones guaranteed to get a reaction. She’d been thinking about him, building a picture in her mind. He didn’t fit her image at all. She’d expected an older man. Someone she would look at and be able to tell if he hurt Tiffany. Not a logical assumption, of course, but she had to believe the evilness would ooze out of someone who grabbed a teen girl right off the sidewalk in broad daylight.
Instead of getting clarity, she got young and objectively hot in a brooding, possibly dangerous way. Not her type at all and certainly not someone she could read. That left her exactly where she started when she walked into the room fifteen minutes ago. But she could ask questions. The senator’s presence might actually convince this guy to answer a few.
“Is Wren a last name or a first name?” When her hands started to cramp from her tight grip on the chair, Emery eased her fingers open. She didn’t let go because she needed something to do with her fingers. It was either hug the chair or wrap them around his throat. Both options sounded good to her right now.
He shook his head. “Not important.”
Her palms slid off the chair. “How can you—”
“Listen to me.” He shifted, not far, but enough for the room to close in a bit. “I don’t know this Tiffany and I can promise you that I’ve never kidnapped anyone . . . well, not a young girl and not in the way you suggest.”
The spinning in her head morphed into a wild swing. She was two seconds from throwing up. “What kind of answer is that?”
“An honest one.”
“Which is stranger that you can imagine.” The senator’s voice sounded more stern this time. “Emery, please sit down.”
“I trusted you.” Emery tried to keep the pleading out of her voice but a thin thread slipped in.
“Yes, and I arranged a meeting between you and Wren, just as you asked.”
Emery hated to admit that was true.
“Right.” Wren shot the senator an undecipherable look. “And we’ll discuss that decision later.”
Despite the energy pinging around the room, the senator seemed to find a reason to smile. “You two have something in common.”
Emery bit back a snort. “Hardly.”
“What could that possibly be?” he asked at the same time.
“You are the one who matched my friend’s missing son to a John Doe.” She pointed first at Emery then to him. “Wren is the one who found his murderer.”