Page 52 of Ice Cold Hearts
“Hospital. No more than ten minutes away. Casual but nice. No, I will not be changing my clothes,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Why are you there? Are you hurt? Do you need me there?” she squawks like an agitated hen.
It’s easier to just give her the information she wants. “Lunch with a friend. No, and no.”
“Who is she?” she asks.
“That’s a big assumption you’re making there, and who I have lunch with is a personal matter, not an agent manner,” I say, failing to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “What did you call me for?”
“That advertising executive who was supposed to be flying in tomorrow caught an earlier flight and is insisting we meet today. You need to get over here as soon as possible.”
“Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Is he already there?”
“He’s close,” she answers then adds slyly, “Maybe you can bring your hospital girl with you. Those athleisure people always bring the good bribes—I mean gift bags. I’m sure she’d love one.”
“She has a job, Liza. She can’t exactly go gallivanting off whenever I snap my fingers,” I say, frustrated.
“So it is a she. Interesting,” Liza says, oozing smugness. “Is it that same girl from the club?”
How does she always manage to weasel things out of me?
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say then end the call.
I steal a quick kiss from Emily and dash out.
Everything is fine until I reach the parking garage. My sense of urgency turns into unease. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I feel a prickle run down my spine.
Then I hear it—the telltale click of a long-lens camera echoing across the empty garage.
Somehow, they figured out I was here, and if they know I’m here, it’s only a matter of time before they find Emily.
17
IAN
She’s so tiny. How can someone so small have so much energy or be that slippery? I bet I’d have more luck trying to catch a greased pig than putting Audrey to bed.
I groan as I flop down on our living room couch.
“There are four of us and one of her, and it was still nearly impossible. How the hell do you manage to do this on your own?” I ask, baffled.
Even though it’s at my expense, Emily’s laugh warms my heart.
“And don’t give us any of that ‘moms are superheroes’ crap. We need battle tactics, Woman,” Oliver jokes.
“Some of it can only be fixed by time.” She shrugs. “We’ve come here a lot, but a guest room isn’t the same as her bedroom, so that’s going to throw her off. Also, you three are the shiny new toys right now, so you’re way more exciting than plain old Mama.”
My heart sinks a little at the self-deprecation.
“Nothing plain about you, Kitten,” I say, squeezing her hand.
Emily smiles and shakes her head at me, “You’re sweet, but I’m not fishing for any compliments here. I just mean you’re new and kids are just wired to be obsessed with the unknown, and I’m familiar. She knows exactly what she can and can’t get away with when it comes to me. Which reminds me, she played you three like a fiddle.” She mockingly shakes her finger at us, “You fell for every single trick in the book. All she had to do was look at you with those big brown eyes and you were putty in her little hands.”
“She’s not the only one who does that,” Alexei says dryly.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Emily says, feigning innocence.
“I want to go back to the bedroom comment,” Oliver says.