Gemma narrowed her gaze before I giggled and hurried upstairs, hoping the loo was desocupado. It was. Thank goodness for small favors. As I washed my hands, I noticed a movement behind me. I turned quickly to find my dad, my wonderful, beautiful father, standing there. I’d caught glimpses of him off and on since we moved to the convent, but he never stayed. He never talked. In fact, every time he showed up, he glanced around nervously, as though he were being watched.

“Dad,” I said, walking up to him. Even these few seconds were the longest I’d been able to see him since he passed, and my mind reeled with questions. “Dad, are you okay? What’s going on?” I put my hand on his cold face for the first time, and a sob escaped my throat. “Why can’t you talk to me?”

“Charlotte,” he said, his voice soft. He stared in amazement, as though seeing me for the first time. “My Charlotte. I had no idea what you are. How important you are.”

“What? Dad—”

“I’m so proud of you.”

As long as I kept contact, he couldn’t disappear on me. “Stay and talk to me. Please. I have so many questions.”

“You have questions?” he asked with a light chuckle. But something caught his attention. He looked toward the bathroom door, breaking my contact, then was gone. I held my hand in the air a few seconds more, savoring the coolness he’d left in his wake, wondering why he disappeared so abruptly.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a deep, smooth voice. “Charley?”

Even through the door, I could feel my husband’s heat. His inferno. Then I looked back to where my dad had just stood. Was it Reyes? Was he afraid of Reyes?

I opened the door, a new worry creeping into my mind to add to the other one already running rampant. Why would my dad be afraid of him?

“Hey,” he said, narrowing his lashes on me. “You okay?”

“Me? What? Of course.”

He pressed his mouth together, the act causing the most sensual dimples to appear. “Spill.”

At least I had an excuse for my nervousness now. I could use that to keep the truth at bay a little while longer. Once Reyes learned what I’d done, he may never talk to me again. The thought made my throat constrict.

“Dutch,” he said, almost in warning.

“It’s just, I saw my dad.”

He glanced inside the bathroom. “Just now?”

“Yeah, but he disappeared again when you walked up.”

He frowned at me, his gaze darting to his left, but he didn’t say anything. I looked over his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to nuzzle my neck.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“For a walk.”

“An odd time for a walk.”

“An odd time to go check on Artemis,” I countered.

He stepped back in alarm. “What did you see?”

It took me a moment, but I realized he thought I was checking up on him. If he thought that, then he was hiding something. Crazy how guilt worked. “Trees. Grass. Bushes. The silvery black hides of hellhounds.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed with tension “How close to the border did you get?”

“Not very. I was just at the gazebo. But I could see them in the distance.”

“If they’re that close, maybe you need to stay away from the gazebo.”

“Maybe you need to tell me why you were checking on a departed dog who couldn’t possibly get into any trouble.”

He grinned. “Have you met your dog?”

He was right. I relaxed my shoulders. “Okay, she can get into trouble, but—”

“She’s been trying to fight the hounds.”

I gasped in surprise. “Artemis? Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve been trying to keep her away from the border.”

I let out an astonished breath. “Thank you. Why would she even do that?”

“She’s your guardian and she sees them as a threat to you. She’s very perceptive.”

I nodded absently.

“So, we’re grilling. You hungry?”

“Aren’t I always?” He had been a fantastic cook before, but put that man behind a grill, and the heavens opened up to watch him work.

“I’ll bring you a plate.”

“Perfect.” He was still wearing the tux, the sight of him breathtaking. “You can’t change, though.”

“No?” he asked, the dimples back in full force.

“No. I have this whole James Bond fantasy going on.”

“You know, I don’t have to return this until Monday.”

I curled my fingers into the lapel and pulled him close. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very Moonraker kind of evening.”

* * *

Reyes left me at the door to our bedroom, where Cookie and Amber were changing. I joined them, changing out of my dress into a pair of stretchy pants—they had to be stretchy to accommodate my girth—a sweater, and a soft pair of boots.

“Okay,” Cookie said as Amber helped her out of her dress, giggling when her mother’s hair got stuck in the zipper, “what’s on the agenda?”

I put my hand on my hip. “Your pre-honeymoon honeymoon.” When she started to argue, I added, “Amber, Quentin, and I are going to make popcorn and watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

Amber nodded exuberantly.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” she said, freeing her hair at last. “I know you. Quentin and Amber are going to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show while you work the case.”