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Derrick mulled over how to sidestep around Marty to keep her in the dark about them still trying to find therealshooter. “Yes they did,” Derrick started carefully, “but sometimes these acts have copycats looking for any way to get to Taylor and they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. You need a detail.”
Marty’s eyes went wide. “You are siding with him?” she demanded of her brother.
“Yes,” Derrick said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Marty looked dazed for a minute. “You can’t stand him, why the fuck would you side with him?” she challenged.
“Because he is right,” Derrick pushed back. “I have been shot and it fucking sucks, okay? So you can stay here and have a temper tantrum, or go out with proper security like our head of security is asking you.”
Now Marty’s face turned red. “I am a grown woman—”
“Well, you aren’t acting like it. I don’t like being followed around either but I did it!” he shouted at his sister. He heaved out a breath, “Look Marty, it’s just until things are safer.”
But Marty didn’t stick around to listen. She turned, went back to her room, slammed the door, and sent the wall art and chandeliers rattling in her wake.
Derrick turned to Henry who was looking down the hall where Hurricane Marty had just whooshed by. “I don’t know what has gotten into her,” Derrick said to Henry. “She has gone out with security before.”
Henry turned to Derrick. “She wanted to drive herself alone. I just don’t think it's wise right now,” he said quietly.
Derrick actually felt bad for the guy, he looked so upset. “Don’t worry about making her mad, Henry,” Derrick said, trying to soothe the hulking man. “She gets like this when she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She is between a couple right now.” Derrick laughed but no humor crossed Henry’s stony face. “Thanks for keeping her safe, Henry.”
“Nothing else I would rather do, sir,” Henry said, then walked away.
Derrick felt like he was missing something about what he had just encountered. He looked down the hall to Marty’s door, and debated whether or not he should go and talk to her. But Derrick shook his head to himself. Dealing with Marty was not a storm he wanted to weather right now. Instead he went to his room and followed through on his shower.
* * *
Taylor got home much laterthan she had intended to, or wanted to. It was nearly seven-thirty by the time she came out of the elevator into the Fletcher Mansion, and she was starving. Her stomach wanted her to go straight to the kitchen, but she wanted to find Derrick first. She was still pissed he went to work without telling her, but she wanted to know how his day had gone, and to eat with him.
Taylor’s big plan of discovering some dirty secret about Cedric’s dealings never got underway, something she didn’t even realize until the ride home. Things were running fine at Preston Corp, but once she was in the building she was pulled in about a thousand different directions and she forgot all about her mission.
Taylor made her way to the bedroom she and Derrick shared, and found her husband fast asleep on top of the covers, wrapped in a towel.
She smiled. It seemed that his first day back took more out of him than he thought. Taylor took a few minutes and ogled her husband, enjoying the beautiful view, then made her way to the closet. On her way out of the closet, now in comfortable clothes, Taylor heard the sound of Derrick’s stomach growling and it made her realize they both needed food.
Silently, Taylor escaped to forage and bumped right into her sister-in-law on the way.
“Hey,” Marty said somberly after they regained themselves.
Taylor furrowed her brow at the usually joyous and quick-witted Marty. “What’s wrong?”
Marty took a deep breath and Taylor watched as she internally wrestled with herself, finally saying, “Nothing.”
“Well, thank God you went into fashion because that was the worst acting job I have ever seen,” Taylor said. She grabbed her sister-in-law by the arm and ducked into her room just down the hall, shutting them inside. “Spill,” Taylor demanded.
“He doesn’t trust me, Taylor,” she finally said as she sat on the edge of the bed, and the whoosh of relief that Marty felt was palpable to Taylor.
“Who?” Taylor asked, and then rolled her eyes at herself. The onlyhimMarty would worry about trusting her was Henry. “Ignore me. Why do you say that?”
“He won’t let me go out alone. I have armed guards everywhere. And when I ask if there is something going on, he tells me no,” Marty complained. “I am not stupid. Obviously, there is more going on than everyone being worried about copycats.”
“Marty—”
“Or he doesn’t trust me, and he is keeping me under lock and key,” she continued on, plowing over whatever Taylor was going to say. “Either way it's crappy, either way he doesn’t trust me.”
“Or perhaps he feels the less you know the safer you will be?” Taylor implored Marty.
Marty took a deep breath. “I know more is going on, but I don’t want you to tell me,” she told Taylor. “I want him to tell me. I want him to know he can confide in me about things that are happening. Especially if it directly involves the people I love.”