And then there was the big question. What had caused her to bungle what should have been a fairly simple job in that alley in Bogotá?
He intended to find the answers.
JED PACED BACK AND FORTH in his hotel suite as he waited for the front desk to pick up. A glance at Zoë, sitting a few feet away on a sofa, assured him that some color had come back into her cheeks. She’d been a bit pale when he’d bundled her into the taxi. But she’d certainly kept her cool when those two men had grabbed them.
He’d barely felt the bullet, he’d been so focused on getting her away from those men. But his blood had been on a slow boil since he’d gotten her safely inside the room. Before that, he’d had to keep his mind clear and sharp.
That’s what he should have done when he’d been in the shadow of that hedge kissing her. If he hadn’t been so lost in that kiss, in her, he would have known that someone was approaching. He’d nearly gotten them both killed. He would have if she hadn’t come to the rescue.
His safest option had been to bring her here to his hotel suite. He certainly couldn’t have taken her to her apartment, not when there was a good chance that whoever had sent those two thugs had identified her.
His hunch was that Bailey Montgomery had sent the two men. It made sense that she would have come with backup. She’d seen the waiter deliver Gage’s envelope to Zoë, and she must have ordered the two men to snatch Zoë.
Thanks to him, Zoë was now in mortal danger.
“Front desk,” said a voice in his ear.
“Room 549. I want you to send up a first aid kit as soon as possible.”
“Are you injured, sir?”
“No.” He’d been lucky. The bullet had only grazed his flesh. He’d rinsed the wound in the bathroom and tied a hand towel around it as a temporary bandage. He’d also called Ryder on his cell phone, told him what had happened and insisted that Ryder send men to protect Zoë.
“Sir, we have a policy. We have to note down the reason whenever a first aid kit is requested.”
Jed called on his sorely depleted store of patience. “On our walk back from dinner, my wife took a little spill and scraped her knee.”
“Did she fall on the hotel grounds?”
Jed heard real concern in the desk clerk’s voice, probably not because a guest had sustained an injury but because of possible litigation. “No, we were in Georgetown when she fell. I just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”
“I’ll send it up right away, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“A bottle of brandy.” They both could use some. “What do you have?”
“I’ll connect you to room service. They’ll be able to help you.”
While he listened to another phone ring, Jed returned his gaze to Zoë. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her for very long since they’d gotten here. He should never have asked Gage to send that envelope to her.
She had such a pull on him. No other woman had ever affected him this way. Even now, he couldn’t look at her without being very aware that there was a bed through the open door to his left—a bed that had been carefully turned down for the night.
Studying her, he was aware once again of the difference in the way she was dressed tonight. The lace and silk top he’d noticed in the Blue Pepper was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen her wear. And he couldn’t help wondering if she was wearing anything beneath those jeans.
Ruthlessly, he shoved the thought away. He had to decide how to answer the questions she was sure to ask as soon as he hung up the phone.
He knew that she was even now formulating and categorizing them in her mind. She’d start with the one he hadn’t fully answered before he’d kissed her.
“Who are you?”
That was the question all right. If he told her the truth, that he was Jed Calhoun, she’d want to know why he was disguised, and he’d have to tell her his story—that he was supposed to be dead, and that if he showed up alive, he’d have to face murder charges.
She’d keep his secret. He didn’t doubt that for a minute. What was holding him back was the fact that if she knew the truth, she might be in even more danger than she was now.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Bailey Montgomery would track her down. Ryder could protect her from the thugs in the SUV, but if Agent Montgomery questioned her, it might be better if Zoë didn’t know any more than that she’d met a man named Jed Calhoun who’d been living with his friend Ryder Kane on a houseboat. And that Jed Calhoun had completely disappeared.
“Room service,” a voice said in his ear.