Nothing Wrong, Either

The plan was simple, or as simple as it could get, given the very complicated circumstances.

            Huntington was gone, somewhere in hiding. The dead men found in Lydia’s bedroom floor were identified fairly quickly as known acquaintances of the Huntington family, and questioning among the family would be ongoing for several days as authorities tried to narrow down the location of the missing doctor. The appropriate law enforcement were appraised of Lydia’s position, if not her exact location, and they were familiar with Sandra’s company and asked no more questions.

            Lydia’s job was, simply, to lay low.

            “So I just stay here, then?” she asked. “And do what?”

            “We have a huge theater downstairs,” one of the men across the kitchen called out. “And there’s a tennis court out back, and a two lane bowling alley and a pool table.”

            “You want me to play pool? Just… stay here and play pool?”

            The man shrugged. “I’ll take you on,” he said. “Are you any good?”

            Lydia laughed, and the man smiled. He was handsome and looked familiar, but Lydia couldn’t quite place why.

            “I have deadlines,” she said. “It’s not just the newspaper. I write for two different online forums and a magazine, and I have stories going for all three of them. I need my laptop.” Only as she said the words did she realize how far behind this whole mess was going to put her. Luckily, her editors were all friendly and likable people, with two of them blurring the lines between acquaintances and friends, but that only made her want to meet the deadlines more. She cringed thinking of being late for not one, not two, but three different pieces.

            “We’ve let the newspaper know that you’ll be taking some time off,” Ethan said. “The person we spoke to was just happy to know you were still alive. They were, understandably, upset about Angela and worried about you.”

            “That’s my main source of income,” Lydia mumbled.

            “We’re handling your income for now,” Sandra said.

            “What does that even mean?”

            “We have an account specifically for the allocation of funds for our clients. No one stops getting bills just because they’ve been attacked and are on the run.”

            A few small chuckles from various people in the room softened the atmosphere, and Lydia realized she’d been clenching her jaw. She’d worked so hard to be financially stable on a journalist’s salary, and the idea of anyone swooping in and rescuing her put her on edge and inexplicably angered her. She managed her life with a carefully organized budget and an app to keep up with all of her expenses. She had a used old Honda stick shift that still had a tape deck and was a bit clunky but blissfully reliable, a second hand striped blue and white sofa that she adored, and an old blue chair that was just as comfortable now as it had been when she’d gotten it from her grandfather in fifth grade. Her wooden floors creaked and were miscolored and her curtains were a little crooked if they were examined too closely because she’d sewn them herself with clearance materials, but these things were hers. They were her own, and she was so proud of them. Most importantly, she had a tiny house that she’d bought herself, small enough that she could comfortably make the mortgage payments- oh, her house. How she missed her little yellow house.

            “If you’ll make a list of your outgoing expenses and give it to Samantha, she’ll make sure a transfer is made into your account quickly,” Sandra was saying.

            “I don’t feel comfortable taking money like that,” Lydia said. It felt as if it somehow cheapened all of her efforts.

            At the same time, there was no way she’d be able to keep up with work without a laptop.

            “It’s part of the program,” Sandra said, reaching across the table and putting her hand over Lydia’s. “Don’t forget that you’ve been through an ordeal. You are strong and capable, and no one is doubting that, but you’re also a survivor. You were attacked. There are processes in place to help you recover, and this is one of them.”

            Lydia nodded, tears springing to her eyes. She wiped them away quickly.

            “Well, in the very least, let me do something to help,” she said. “I cannot just sit here for however long it takes to find Huntington.” She glanced at the man across the room, leaning against the counter, and smiled. “And as much fun as it sounds, I can’t spend all of my time emasculating men by beating them at pool.”

            “Bet!” the man said, standing up straighter.

            Sandra glanced at him and smiled warmly. “We will acquire a laptop for you,” she said.  “I assume you have backups of your stories? You can access them?”

            Lydia nodded.

            “You’ll have one later today,” she said, and one of the women Lydia didn’t know abruptly left the room. No one seemed surprised to see her go. Lydia realized she must be off to get a laptop, and she marveled at the expenses that would have meant so much to her personally, but meant so little to this collective group of strangers.

            Sandra stood. “I have some things to tend to today, but I’m leaving Samantha in charge of the house and anything you might need while you’re here.”

            “I have some questions,” Lydia said, standing up, carrying her coffee with her as she followed Sandra from the room.

            “I thought you might,” Sandra said. “Samantha is very knowledgeable and she’ll be more than happy to answer any questions you might have.”

            Ethan was standing next to her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating off of his skin, could smell his rich scent. She shivered, relishing the closeness of him, surprised by her response to him.

            “I thought I’d stay here and keep an eye on things,” he said, and Lydia thought she heard a question in his voice. She looked back and forth between Sandra and Ethan and saw some sort of silent communication happening between the two. Sandra sighed and looked at Lydia.

            “Are you alright with that?” she asked.

            Lydia glanced at Ethan, a full head taller than her, his dark eyes searching her face, waiting for an answer.

            “Of course,” she said awkwardly. “That’s perfectly fine by me.”

            Ethan’s face remained calm, but she could swear he was suppressing the urge to grin.

            “I’ll give you a tour,” he said, looking at her now.

            “Here,” Samantha said. “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in. This place is pretty big. Just text me if you get lost.”

            “You might want to text your sister soon, too,” Ethan said, smiling. “It sounded like she’s the worrying type.”

            Lydia watched as people scattered all around them, all of them with determination in their steps and purpose in their postures, until she and Ethan were the only ones left standing in the quiet entry way. Cars started and drove away outside and Lydia heard Samantha, somewhere out past the kitchen, humming. She sounded very far away.

            “How big is this place?” she asked, looking up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling far above the stairway.

            “Too big,” Ethan laughed. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

            They spent the morning walking the grounds. There were more rooms on the ground floor, with long hallways that had windows on each side, letting in light from all angles; two sitting rooms- one with formal antique furniture and one with oversized, cream colored sectionals and more coffee bars; a formal dining room with a table to match the one in the kitchen and a whiskey cart; bathrooms around seemingly every corner; an indoor pool with a divider that could be opened so that it became an outdoor pool; gilded frames that hung artwork throughout. A quick peak allowed her to see into the ground floor master suite, which wasn’t currently being used, and a glance down a long hallway on the second floor showed doors to several guest suites that were in use. The house was full of luxury, understated and overstated depending on the corner. There were fresh bouquets of flowers throughout the house, and everything was clean and well cared for.

             Ethan showed her the neatly manicured gardens out back, walkways leading between and among the curving designs, perfectly symmetrical and lovely, even as the flowers were dying in the cooling air. They sat on a pair of stone benches for a few moments to enjoy the morning sunshine, and Lydia closed her eyes and leaned back to feel the warmth on her face. When she looked up again, Ethan was watching her.

            “I’m sorry this has happened to you,” he said quietly.

            “Me, too,” she said. She glanced down at his broad chest, watching it rise with his inhale, and tore her gaze away, her face hot. “Thank you for… For what you did. Thank you for shooting them. I’m sorry I made the job so difficult for you.”

            He was shaking his head before she’d even finished her sentence.

            “You didn’t make my job difficult,” he said. “You fought hard, as you should if someone has broken into your home and is attacking you. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

            She nodded, accepting his words without argument. She couldn’t really disagree with him. How could she have known he was one of the good guys?

            And he was one of the good guys. She could see it in the way he looked at her now, his brown eyes all full of worry and concern. He’d needed to get her away from the house to keep her safe, to keep them both from being killed, and he still felt guilt for hurting her in the process.

            His black hoody was nondescript, but she knew the kind of strength that hid beneath those layers. He was incredibly handsome, and the look he was giving her now, openly concerned, made her soften toward him.

            “Hey, I’m okay,” she said, reaching out and putting a hand on his forearm. “You did nothing wrong, either, you know.”

            His eyebrows lifted at that, and she knew that these were exactly the words he needed to hear, even as he started shaking his head in a denial.

            “I was so rough-“

            “You had to be.”

            “I would never do that if it were any other scenario. I’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.” He put his head in his hands. “This work isn’t usually so complicated.”

            Anyone who didn’t deserve it, she thought.

            “Tell me about your work,” she said, leaning in, interested. “What do you do, exactly? Are you a bodyguard?”

            “That’s exactly it,” he said, but she thought she saw something in his eyes close off again, as if he were guarding himself against her questions. “I just protect people.”

            “How did you…? This place doesn’t look like the kind of place that just posts job openings online and accepts applicants based on good references.”

            He chuckled. “No, not really that kind of place,” he said, looking around. “I guess I was just born into it.” He glanced at her as if weighing something in his mind, and then he said, “Sandra is my mom, you know.”

            She sat up straight, surprised. “No, I didn’t realize.”

            “Yeah,” he nodded. “This is her enterprise. My father wasn’t… great. He was awful. He hurt a lot of people.” There it was again- that almost invisible flash of something painful crossing his handsome face. “When he died, he left us this fortune- and I mean a fortune- and my mom just wants to help people. She started this security firm and no matter what she does, no matter how many people she helps, it’s never enough. You’d think she was the one scamming and ripping people off, the way she goes after redemption, but it was never her. Just my old man.” He paused, looking past the gardens to the tree line further back. “I don’t miss that bastard,” he said. “He wasn’t a good man. But my mom is the epitome of good.

            “Me and my brothers work for her. She calls it the family business.”

            Lydia thought back to the man leaning up against the counter who had looked so familiar to her.

            “Was the pool guy your brother?”

            Ethan laughed. “Yep. Michael. He’s a hothead, but he’s a good guy. He meant it though- he will not hold back if you play him in pool, or just about anything else, really. He’s got a competitive streak in him.”

            “How many brothers do you have?”

            “Four,” he said. “I’m the oldest.”

            “Five sons!” Lydia said. “Your mom must’ve loved kids.”

            “Five sons and two daughters,” he said. “Seven of us total. I may be the oldest but Michael is definitely the toughest. Nobody wants to get on his bad side.” Lydia eyed the muscles that rippled down Ethan’s arms and remembered the brute strength of him and wondered briefly how Michael could possibly be stronger. “The younger two don’t even remember my old man,” he was saying. “It’s better that way. It’s better for them, I mean. They don’t feel that way, but of course they wouldn’t. He’s just a story to them. We got to experience the real deal.” He shook his head, as if shaking off a bad memory, and his jaw clenched with the effort. “How about you?” he asked. “Two sisters, and you’re in the middle?”

            “Yep,” she nodded, not bothering to ask how he knew about her younger sister. She imagined they’d done some basic social media research into her life when they decided to take her on as a client, even if she’d never personally reached out to them. She filed that away as another line of questioning to follow later. “Maddie is two years older than me and Olivia is two minutes younger than me.”

            “Minutes?”

            “Yep.”

            “So you’re a twin…?”

            “Yep.”

            “Identical?”

            “Yep.” The word was starting to sound strange to her own ears, but Ethan made her lose her well-honed ability to always know exactly what to say. “I always say I’m the middle child, though. Olivia definitely takes on the persona of the baby of the family. She can be a bit of a brat but I adore her. We all do.”

            Ethan’s eyes were looking through her, and she realized she’d lost his attention.

            “What’s going on?” she asked quietly.

            “I think I need to call the team. We didn’t realize you had an identical twin.”

            “Why does it matter?” she asked. “I don’t talk to her much. We had a falling out a few years ago-“ The statement pained her. She’d never intended to be estranged from her family, but the brief calls and texts were all that there were these days, just thin strings holding them together, and she hated that.

            “That’s why there are no recent pictures of the two of you on your social media pages.”

            “That’s…” she bit off the word weird, remembering that it was his job to look into her. She had to keep that work acquaintance boundary between them firm. For a moment, their conversation had been going so well that she’d forgotten why she was here, speaking to this man at all. “Yeah. That’s why,” she finished, her voice clipped.

            He stood up abruptly and walked away from her, his steps determined, his broad shoulders full of tension.

            “Where are you going?” she called, standing, but he was already on his phone, speaking too quietly for her to hear. She’d thought their conversation was going so well. What had she said to set him off? Something about her sister?

            She took one more glance at the beautiful flower beds and artistic expression all around her, not really seeing it. Why would he-

            “Livvie,” she said quietly. “Hey!” she shouted, running to catch up with Ethan. “Hey!”

            He turned, the phone still held to his ear.

            “Is it my sister?”

            He nodded, one curt movement of his head, his mouth set firmly.

            “Is she okay?”

            His eyes stared into hers, and he didn’t respond. Lydia put her hand over her mouth, a knot forming in her stomach.

            “The team’s on it,” Ethan said. “They’re on their way to her house right now.”

            “My God, if she’s hurt I will never-“

            “She’s not hurt,” he said curtly. “My team has confirmed her location and that she is unharmed, but they have also confirmed unwelcome attention. She’s okay. The team is on it. They’re a great unit and they’re on their way to get her now.”

            “Not to barge in on her and kidnap her in midday, I hope,” Lydia muttered, relaxing only slightly. Her sister would not take kindly to that kind of intrusion.

            Still, she worried.

            Her wayward sister, unaware of the danger she was in, would probably be sitting in her apartment, mindlessly scrolling through social media pages or creating social media content with doors unlocked, windows wide open, eager to be seen, seen, seen by anyone and everyone all the time.

            What if Ethan’s team weren’t the first to find her sister? What if someone else- someone worse- had, indeed, already seen Olivia?