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She placed the memory back on the shelf.
What a naïve romantic fool she’d been.
Her future was decided the day her brother died, her fate sealed the day she was forced to choose between the future she wanted, and the one she was destined for.
Her stomach growled, a reminder she skipped lunch, and the planned trip to the grocery store had fled her mind when she was too busy worrying about that black SUV following her from Arlington.
She trudged to the kitchen to survey her options. The meager contents in her stainless-steel fridge didn’t look promising other than the small plastic store-bought container on the upper shelf.
Leftover pasta salad it was. She grabbed a fork, took a seat on one of the two stools on the opposite side of her kitchen island, and dug in.
Outside, the wind picked up, swirling debris in a mini tornado at the bay window in her dining room. A gust hit the front door, blowing it open.
Nathalie’s fork froze mid-air, her heart taking off like a Kentucky racehorse when the starting gates flew open.
She never used the front door.
She always came in through the garage.
Sliding off her bar stool, she raced to the door, shut it, and threw the deadbolt.
Phone.
Her frantic gaze searched her surroundings.
Kitchen counter.
Right where she always set it when she got home.
Lucas would know what to do. Her father’s best friend and her godfather, Lucas Caldwell was a steady presence in her and her mom’s lives since her dad’s passing.
Every ring felt like minutes.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Lucas’s husky voice, roughened by years of tobacco use, came over the line. At least he’d finally given up smoking. “What’s up?”
“I think someone was in my home.” She could hear the panic in her voice. Like she was a scared little girl rather than a twenty-nine-year-old president of an avionics firm.
“Get out. Now. Call the police.” Lucas barked the command like the former Army special operations colonel he’d been before joining the FBI.
Lucas’s reaction had the opposite effect on her.
She was overreacting.
Calm down and think.
“Whoever was here is gone.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. If someone reallyhadbeen here. “I’ve already checked all the rooms. I don’t see anything missing, and there’s no sign of a forced entry. I’d be wasting the police’s time on a feeling without proof.”
“Stay near your phone. I’m on my way.”
“You don’t need to do that. I—Lucas? Hello?”
Ugh.
He’d hung up.
Clutching her phone, she took another tour of her home to assure herself nothing was missing and double-checked the locks on her windows and doors. No jimmied locks she could see—not that she was an expert. Maybe shehadforgotten to set her alarm. And maybe she’d been careless the last time she used the front door.
Which was?