Frank doesn’t look like he believes me, but I don’t give a fuck. If the CIA knows what’s good for them, they’ll keep the FBI off my back.

I’m here for Nora, and anyone who doesn’t like it can go straight to hell.

* * *

When I return to the house, I find Nora arguing with Rosa about cleaning up the table.

“Rosa, please, today you’re the guest,” Nora says, reaching for the platter with the remnants of the lamb. “Please, just sit, and I’ll help my mom—”

“No, no, no,” Rosa objects, walking around the table and picking up dirty dishes. “You have the baby to worry about. Please, this is my job. Let me help.”

“I’m ten weeks along, not nine months—”

“She’s right, baby,” I say, stepping up to Nora and plucking the platter from her hands. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want you overtiring yourself.”

Nora starts to argue, but I’m already carrying the platter to the kitchen, where Nora’s parents are packing away the leftovers. As I walk in, Gabriela’s eyes widen, but she accepts the platter from me with a quiet “thank you.”

I smile at her and walk back to the dining room for more dishes.

It takes a few more trips for Rosa and me to clear off the table and bring everything to the kitchen. Nora sits on the living room couch, watching us work with a mixture of exasperation and curiosity.

Finally, the table is clean, and the Lestons come out of the kitchen to join us. I take a seat next to Nora on the couch and pick up her hand, bringing it to my lap so I can play with her fingers.

“Gabriela, Tony, thank you for a wonderful dinner,” I say when Nora’s parents sit down next to Rosa on the second couch. “I apologize that I had to step out and missed dessert.”

“I saved you a slice of cake,” Nora says as I massage her palm. “Mom packed it for us to go.”

I give her mother a warm smile. “Thank you for that, Gabriela. I appreciate it.”

Gabriela inclines her head. “Of course. It’s unfortunate that your business took you away so late in the evening.”

“Yes, it is,” I agree, pretending not to notice the inquiry implicit in her statement. “And you’re right, it is getting late . . .” I glance down at Nora, who’s covering a yawn with her free hand.

“Nora says you’re staying at a house in Palos Park,” Tony says, watching us with an unreadable expression. “Is that where you’re sleeping tonight?”

“Yes, that’s right.” The house is on the far edge of the community, with enough empty acreage surrounding it that Lucas was able to implement the required security features. “That’s where we’ll be staying for the duration of our visit.”

“The two of you are welcome to use Nora’s room if you wish,” Gabriela offers, sounding uncertain.

“Thank you, but we wouldn’t want to impose. It would be better if we had our own space for these two weeks.” Still holding Nora’s hand, I get up and give the Lestons a polite smile. “Speaking of which, I believe it’s time for us to go. Nora needs her rest.”

“Nora is fine,” the subject of my concern mutters as I usher her toward the exit. “I’m capable of staying up past ten, you know.”

I stifle a grin at the grumpy note in her voice. My pet doesn’t like to admit that she tires easily these days. “Yes, I’m aware. But your parents need their rest too. Tomorrow is Thursday, isn’t it?”

“Oh, right, of course.” Stopping before we reach the front door, Nora turns to her parents. “I forgot that the two of you have work tomorrow,” she says contritely. “I’m sorry. We probably should’ve left earlier—”

“Oh, no, honey,” her mother protests. “We’re so happy to have you here, and we told you to come this evening. When are we seeing you next?”

Nora looks up at me, and I say, “Tomorrow evening, if that works for the two of you. This time dinner will be at our house.”

“We’ll be there,” Tony says, and I watch both Lestons hug and kiss Nora as they say their goodbyes.

Chapter 17

Nora

When we get into the limo, I realize that I am tired, the tense excitement of the evening dissipating and leaving me drained. Rosa again takes a seat across the aisle from us, and Julian pulls me close to him, draping his arm over my shoulders. As his warm masculine scent surrounds me, I relax against his side, letting my thoughts drift.

My former captor and I just had dinner with my parents. Like a family. It’s so absurd I still can’t believe it happened. I’m not sure what I imagined when Julian agreed to take me for a visit, but this wasn’t it.

I guess on some level, I had simply refused to think about how something like this might go—my kidnapper sitting down to a civilized meal with my family. It was like a wall I’d put up in my mind, so I wouldn’t have to worry. When I had thought of going back home, I had pictured myself with my parents . . . just the three of us, as though Julian would stay in the background, remaining part of my other, darker life.

It was ridiculous to think that way, of course. Julian never stays in the background. He dominates whatever situation he’s in, bends it to his will. And even in this—in my relationship with my parents—he’s taken charge, inserting himself into our family on his own terms, perfectly comfortable where other men would cringe in shame.