Page 16 of Nothing to Fear

For a few seconds anyway.

She didn’t deserve to be accused of treason and definitely didn’t deserve to have her life invaded by him—a professional liar and bloody butcher by trade.

Their traitor was skilled at subterfuge and manipulation. On the off chance Willow was an Oscar-worthy actress, pretenses faltered under strain. Like in the high-stress situation she’d just been through. She wasn’t the mole, but he needed to prove her innocence beyond a doubt.

And then he’d stay far away from her.

The old man banged on the window. “Willow! I’m starving!” He disappeared, the curtains falling back into place.

She hustled up the walkway to the front stoop, Gideon staying a stride behind her.

As she fumbled with her key, the door swung open. Her father sat in a wheelchair, blocking the entryway, his liver-spotted face pinched in a grimace.

“You’re almost two hours late and you didn’t call. I have to take my medicine. Where’s your car? And who’s this?” He scowled at Gideon.

Willow shooed her father back with both hands. The house was a moderate twenty degrees cooler than the oven-baked temp outside.

“Sorry I’m late, Dad. I had a car accident and I didn’t think to call.”

“You hurt? Got whiplash? Concussion?” Withered from age and sickness, the gray-haired man rolled to the kitchen. He wore a bathrobe and cotton pajamas. An IV bag hung from the back of the wheelchair. “I keep telling you, women are lousy drivers.”

She tossed her purse on the tile countertop and washed her hands. Gideon hovered in the natural divide between the eat-in kitchen and the living room.

“My car was towed.” Willow dried her hands. “But I’m fine, thanks to Gideon.”

And luck. The situation could’ve played out much differently, where she didn’t walk away. After he’d deflated the airbag, seeing her swamped with fear and shock had twisted something inside him. He’d wanted to gather her in his arms and make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Harper. I’m Gideon Stone.” He proffered his hand. “The accident wasn’t her fault. Your daughter handled the situation remarkably well.”

Her dad stared at Gideon’s extended hand, then cut his eyes back to Willow. “Why didn’t you bring me a double bacon cheeseburger and fries if you were going to be late?”

Gideon dropped his hand, taking in the understated furnishings situated to accommodate a wheelchair. The homey living room was spotless, devoid of clutter, like the kitchen.

“It’s bad for your heart.” She sighed. “Why didn’t you microwave a frozen meal?”

“You promised to cook for me every night this week. And you have chicken à la king labeled for Thursdays in the freezer. Last time I took a meal out of order, you got all squirrelly.”

“It’s tuna, not chicken.”

His mouth twisted, nose scrunching. “Tastes like à la friggin’ ass. I won’t eat it. I want a damn burger.” He pounded a wrinkled fist on a round yellow Formica table the seventies rejected. “I’m dying. I can have a burger once a month. I’ve earned it.”

“I’m only doing what’s best for you, following the doctor’s advice.”

Gideon preferred to make things easier for her after the hell she’d been through earlier, but he had a job to do. “A burger or pizza sounds great. I’m starved. May I have a cup of water?”

Her shoulders bunched. “Glasses are there.” She pointed as she dug into the freezer.

He ventured into the kitchen, ignoring her father’s flagging glower, and opened a cabinet. Spices and seasoning were arranged in alphabetical order. Organization taken to the nth degree. He grabbed a glass from the next cabinet, filled it with tap water, and took a sip.

“Even what’s his name is in favor of a burger. Or pizza. Sounds so good.”

“How about a Friday meal, Dad? Tortellini surprise. I bet you’d like that one.”

Her sweet optimism—despite Mr. Harper barking complaints and Gideon’s deliberately inciteful suggestion—was another reason he admired her. She had fortitude.

“I like good surprises,” said her father. “The kind that make me happy. Not the ones you keep frozen in those Tupperware containers.”

With the distraction in full swing, Gideon asked, “Willow, where’s the bathroom?”