Where would he have put the box? As she moved into the living room she spotted a manila file with her name on it resting on the couch. She sat and flipped it open on the coffee table, and hundreds of photographs spilled out. Pictures of her from her school graduation. Of her walking into the building where she’d taken her art history class. Photos of her reading by the pool in her own backyard.
Eight years of photographs someone had taken without her knowledge. Her hands trembled violently.
Cole had been watching her all these years.
Why?
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She snapped up her head to an angry-looking Adrian. “I . . . I’m looking for something to help Cole.”
“In here? I doubt it.” He stalked closer and clutched her shoulders. “Tell the truth, Danielle. You were looking for your offshore bank account.”
She eyed Adrian warily. How did he know about the account? “You’re working for the ones who have Tasha.”
“Tasha.” He frowned, letting go of her shoulders. “You mean your stepmother, Natasha Walker? She’s been kidnapped?”
Although it was possible he was playing her, she wanted to trust him, knowing how much Cole did. Watching Adrian’s bewilderment, she pinched the bridge of her nose to head off the tears. “You didn’t know. If you’re not working for them, how did you know about the bank account?”
A muscle in Adrian’s jaw jumped. “Why did you try to kill Cole?”
“I didn’t!” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I gave him a couple sleeping pills. That’s it. I don’t know what happened.”
“An allergic reaction.”
She bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her father had died from an allergy.
She sniffed. “Is he okay?”
“Why do you care? You just left him.”
“I didn’t want to. You have to believe that. I never wanted to hurt him. I’ve been trying to protect him. I’ve been trying to protect everyone.” She curled her fingers into his shirt. “Please, Adrian. Tell me he’s okay. Tell me he’s alive.”
Waves of pain wracked her body. She couldn’t breathe, every inhalation squeezing her heart.
“Cole’s fine,” he said gently. “Logan and Gracie will be bringing him up here shortly.”
Relief flooded through her. “How do you know about the offshore account?”
Adrian perched on the arm of the couch. “I’m not only Cole’s slave. I also work for him in private security and as his bodyguard.”
“Well you didn’t do a good enough job. I almost killed him!” She lifted a photo of herself. “If you knew I was here for the file, why didn’t you confront me about it?” She clutched it to her chest.
He sighed. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t know what your angle was. We figured you’d show eventually, which was why I left Arizona and came here a few months ago to settle in and blend into the background.”
“Arizona?”
“Cole assigned me to watch over you after your father died. I took all those photos.”
She swallowed. “Who else is involved?
“I’m not sure I should—”
She slapped her hands on the coffee table. “Who?”
He flinched. “Logan. He’s been doing some . . . computer work for us. And . . . Gracie.”
Everyone she’d trusted. Each of them had lied to her.
Cassandra was right. It was all an illusion.
She heard voices right before Cole stumbled in flanked by Logan and Gracie. She flung herself at him, nearly bowling him over with the force of it, and wrapped her arms around him. “Cole, I’m so sorry.”
Gracie and Logan moved away, but Cole’s arms remained by his sides. “Close the door and check for bugs, Adrian,” Cole said, his voice steady and strong.
Stepping back, she saw the cold expression on Cole’s face.
Adrian held a device that looked like a walkie-talkie and advanced around the room. “All clear. They’re not watching or listening in here.”
“What is going on here?” she asked, feeling as though she was missing something vital. Cole didn’t appear to have been affected by the sleeping pills at all.
Ignoring her, Cole looked to Adrian. “What does she know?”
“Nothing. Less than we do.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought I almost killed you. That you had a severe allergic reaction to the pills I gave . . . You played me?”
Cole folded his arms across his chest. “I saw you slip the pills into my water, so I switched cups. I figured I was supposed to have an allergic reaction; that seems to be Rinaldi’s modus operandi, so I made sure to list it on the fake electronic medical records, and surprise—he took the bait.”