Page 72 of Our Little Secret

“Oh, sh—oot,” Nick said, spying the uniformed man quickly approaching.

“Mom!” Marilee’s voice was a plea.

“Go back into the dance,” Neal instructed. “I’ll deal with this.”

“This,” of course, meant Brooke and whatever hassle the guard would give them.

Nick, his face ashen, was already heading for the double doors, Marilee scurrying after him.

Gideon, dressed in a full uniform, reached the bench.

Stricken, Brooke glared at him while Marilee cowered behind Nick.

“Is there a problem?” Gideon asked in a voice lower than usual. His face was shaded by a cap, his beard darker than usual, glasses with colored lenses covering his eyes. His clothing bore official-looking patches, and on his belt was a walkie-talkie and a holstered weapon.

“No problem,” she said through gritted teeth, though panic pounded through her. What the hell was he doing here? How could he be so bold? So menacing?

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice authoritative.

“Nothing we can’t manage,” Neal assured him. “We were just checking on our daughter.”

Gideon turned his gaze to Brooke. “And is she all right?” He nodded toward Marilee, still hiding behind Nick.

“Yes.” Brooke’s jaw hardened. “She’s fine.”

“No issue?”

“None,” Neal assured him.

“You’ve got everything handled?” Gideon was still staring at Brooke.

“Absolutely.” She stared right back, almost daring him to expose the truth. Trembling inside, fury melding with fear, she managed to keep her voice even. “We don’t need any help dealing with our daughter.” Brooke took a step closer to Neal and entwined her fingers in his.

“We’ve got this,” Neal assured him.

“If you say so.” Gideon finally broke her gaze to look toward the gym. The outraged chaperone, security guard in tow, was bustling through the door. “Well, you all keep tabs on your daughter. These days you can’t be too careful.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the outer gate.

“There she is!” the chaperone announced, wiggling an imperious, plump finger in Brooke’s direction.

The same security guard Brooke had seen at the entrance when they’d dropped off Marilee was now with the chaperone. He didn’t pause, just walked up to the group. “Is there any trouble?”

“No. We’re just checking on our daughter,” Neal explained. “We already explained it to the other guard.” He motioned toward the far exit.

“What other guard?” The guard glowered toward the gate, now hanging open, Gideon nowhere in sight.

“The guy who was just here.”

“I thought I was the only guard. I guess the service sent somebody else.” He rubbed the back of his neck and scowled, then glanced at Neal and Brooke as if they were lying. “Look, we just don’t want any trouble here.”

“And we don’t mean to cause any,” Neal said, his fingers tightening over Brooke’s, silently telling her not to make any more of a scene. “We’re leaving now. We had a scare a little earlier and were worried about our daughter. I tried to reach her on her cell and couldn’t. With all that’s going on right now, with the Carelli girl still missing, we got worried and my wife, here, overreacted.” He gave the guard an engaging, I’m-sure-you-understand smile meant for husbands of unpredictable wives.

As if! Brooke tried to yank her hand from his, but his grip tightened to the point of pain as he went on, “She’s our only child, and when she didn’t respond, we came down here, couldn’t see her, and well . . . we’re really sorry.”

The guard glanced at the chaperone, but much of her bravado had deflated after hearing Neal’s explanation.

Scowling, the guard said, “Maybe it would be best if you all went out this side gate; it’s unlocked because of the fire code, you know. You can wait for your daughter outside in the parking lot. The dance will be over in about half an hour or so.”

“We will,” Neal agreed and pulled Brooke toward the exit where only minutes before Gideon had slipped out. As the guard ushered them past the smug chaperone to the gate and held it open for them, he said, “I understand about worrying about your kid. Got three daughters of my own.”