Noah Blackwell sat back on his heels and smiled again. “I have a feeling our paths will cross again. It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Blackwell.”
She didn’t look at him as he passed by her and into the hospital.
Two minutes later, Hunter pulled his car into the drop-off.
Casual slacks . . . but not jeans . . . and his button-up shirt and dinner jacket brought relief. He stepped out of the car to greet her and she stepped into his embrace and sighed.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
“Well, if I thought dinner was going to start like this, I would have come earlier.”
She started to shake.
“Gabi?” Hunter pulled out of her hug and studied her. “What’s wrong?”
She looked behind her. “I-I just met your brother.”
Hunter’s hand squeezed her shoulders, his face turned to stone. “You what?”
“Here . . . he stepped into the hospital less than three minutes ago.”
His gaze moved beyond her, then back. “Did he hurt you?”
“No . . . just said a few things. I thought he was you at first.”
“Wait here.” Hunter ran toward the door.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she yelled after him.
If Hunter heard her, he didn’t indicate it.
Gabi stood beside the open door of Hunter’s Maserati, the engine still humming as it idled in the drive.
Hunter disappeared behind the sliding doors of the hospital, leaving her staring after him. She held on to the top of the car with the passenger door opened and tried her best attempt at appearing patient.
With all the fidgeting she was trying to control, Gabi was fairly certain any cameras pointing on the outside of the hospital painted her as a woman standing by the getaway car.
Hunter emerged from the doors several minutes later. Gabi did a mental check . . . he was wearing slacks, not jeans.
She sighed.
“Did you see him?”
He shook his head. “He doesn’t stick around for long.”
There was a car behind them, pinned because of a small bus that had sandwiched them in. The driver tapped his horn. Hunter held the passenger door while Gabi slipped inside.
“Are you OK?”
“Shaking . . . which is stupid, he didn’t do anything. I think it was the shock of realizing a half a second too late that he wasn’t you. I almost kissed him.”
Hunter gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “But you didn’t.”
Gabi wrapped her arms around her stomach. “No.” She really wasn’t feeling well. The car hit a buckle in the road and her head started to spin.
“What did he say?” They stopped at the red light and Hunter glanced her way.
“That he wasn’t the evil twin. I told him he was wasting his time talking to me.”
“But he knew who you were.”
“Yes. Said he recognized me from the paper . . . or something like that.” The light turned green and Hunter kept driving. “What game do you think he’s playing?”
“The same one he’s been playing since our teens. Undermine, discredit, and deceive.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if the man followed in your footsteps and earned his own living?” Gabi asked.
Hunter actually laughed. “Not when someone else can do all the hard stuff and he can sweep in and take.” Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in a quiet booth in a tiny, informal steakhouse.
“You look like you could use a drink,” Hunter told her.
“I don’t think—”
The waiter stepped up and Hunter ordered them wine.
He waited until after their wine arrived before asking for every detail of her encounter with Noah.
When their brief meeting had been recited, she sipped her wine, thankful Hunter insisted on it.
“His presence wasn’t an accident. This is what he does. He shows up in the places I’m going to be . . . makes nice with those around me, and sprinkles doubt about my resolve to keep my distance from him. A master manipulator must first gain the trust of those he’s sinking his claws in. Now that you’ve seen him once, he will be around again. I’d bet money on it.”
“How would he know I was there? Or do you think he was trying to find you?”
“If he wanted to find me, all he would have to do is show up at the office. He could have followed you, got wind via the media. He was after something else.” He sat back in thought. “His drive-by makes it clear why you need a bodyguard.”
She opened her mouth to argue.
Hunter cut her off. “It’s already in motion, Gabi. I spoke with Neil before picking you up. He will have a team at the new house to wire tomorrow, a personal bodyguard will meet us at the hospital when we go back.”
“Oh, Hunter.”
“You’re a smart woman. You know I’m right about this.”
The thought of mistaking Noah for her husband a second time . . . alone . . . made her pause. “Fine. You’re right.”
Hunter lifted both eyebrows. “Did that hurt?”
“Saying you’re right?”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
She tapped her chest. “A little. Right here.”
Hunter leaned forward and took her hand in his. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“Smooth talker.”
“Is it working?” He kissed the back of her hand.
Yeah . . . her stomach had settled and she was no longer shaking. “Well,” she started, “I haven’t told you to jump in front of a bus for at least an hour.”
The funeral took place a week to the day after Jordan passed away. The minister spoke of happier times, of the lives Jordan had touched and the love one sister had for the other.