Page 29 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter twenty-nine

Gabe

S he’s lying.

Her gaze jumps around. She’s curled into herself.

She won’t look at me. There’s also more going on than simply lying.

She’s hiding something. She’d been adorably belligerent before Hardwick arrived, then something changed.

I could almost see her withdrawing, rolling her shoulders forward to protect herself.

“If you remember anything, will you call me, Tess?” Hardwick’s concerned gaze settles on me but there’s nothing I can do to help her. Tess clearly doesn’t want to talk to her, and I have a feeling based on what I know of her past that it’s not Hardwick herself but what she represents.

“Of course,” Tess says.

She won’t. I can see it in the wild panic of those caramel-colored eyes. I can feel it in her body vibrating with the need to bolt.

The detective stands and I stand too, disentangling my fingers from Tess’s. She tucks her hands between her thighs and rocks forward. I don’t want to leave her alone, but I need to speak to Hardwick privately.

“I’ll walk you out,” I say to the detective.

I lean down to cup the back of Tess’s head and press a kiss to her forehead because I need the comfort of her touch almost as much as she does. This woman has worked her way under my skin, and I’m determined to learn all her secrets so I can erase the shadows in her eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to her.

She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I follow the detective out of the room. It’s not until we’re in the elevator that she turns to me with a raised brow.

“She’s lying, you know.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “She’s scared.”

“And she hates cops.”

“Yeah, I got that feeling too.”

“For being her fiancé, you don’t know much about her.”

I don’t rise to her bait, and I don’t worry about that little white lie when we have more pressing matters to discuss.

“I looked you up, Mr. Strong. Big-time corporate executive. Billionaire. Some say you’re a genius at turning businesses around. Everything you touch turns to gold.”

I huff out a breath. I hate those damn articles. “I’ve had some failures along the way.”

“My point is, that nothing I read indicates you have a fiancé. You haven’t been photographed with a woman in years.”

“You certainly did your research,” I say wryly.

She taps the badge clipped to her belt. “That’s why I’m a detective. I like research.”

The elevator passes several floors while I debate how much to tell her before settling on the truth.

“Tess is my assistant. I told the hospital I was her fiancé because at the time it was the only way they’d let me see her.”

It’s the first look of surprise I’ve seen on her. “You flew from Colorado to Ohio because you were worried about your assistant who I’m assuming works virtually since she lives here.”

I tap my finger on my crossed arms for several beats of silence. “There might be some feelings involved.”

“Ah.”

“It’s new.”

“Hence why you don’t know why she’s afraid of the police.”

“I’d appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself. If the press finds out I’m engaged”—I finger quote the word engaged— “the spotlight will shine on Tess and that’s the last thing she needs.”

Those shrewd eyes study me for a long while. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”

The doors open into the lobby. I wave my hand to let her exit first. The halls are mostly empty this late at night and the waiting areas dark.

“You going to tell me why you’re escorting me out?” she asks.

We pass a closed-up gift shop, blue and pink balloons bobbing against the draft of the vent they hover below. “The day I arrived there was a woman in the lobby yelling at two security guards, demanding to see her daughter. Said she has rights as a mother.”

Detective Hardwick hitches her bag up higher on her shoulder and side-eyes me. “Go on.”

“Tess told her friend Amelia that she has no family. But Amelia is pretty sure that woman wanted to see Tess. I need her name.”

She stops, forcing me to stop with her. The revolving door swishes as a frazzled looking man carrying an empty infant car seat rushes in.

“You think this woman has something to do with Tess’s attack?” she asks.

“I’m not sure. At this point I’m following a hunch.” Usually, my hunches are correct. Sometimes not. But this feels right. That woman is the key.

“The golden touch,” she murmurs.

I tip my head one way, then the other. “This is a little different than walking into a boardroom and figuring out why the company’s failing.”

Her lips tip up. “Is it, though? Sounds sort of similar to detective work.”

“I’m asking for a name. That’s all.”

Those shrewd eyes probe me. “What are you going to do with this name?”

“The same thing you are, Detective. I’m going to find out how this woman is connected to Tess and if she has anything to do with the attack.”

“And then?”

I shrug. I’ve revealed all the cards I’m going to reveal at this point. I want that name.

After that, we’ll see where it takes me.