Ethan was relaxing in the hot tub while watching television. With the remote control in one hand, he flipped through several channels, pausing at every news broadcast to see whether they mentioned anything about the attack.
He found nothing.
No reports, not even a single reference to the shooting. Apparently, they had managed to keep it out of the news.
Since Taylor had not been seen directly during the incident, it probably would not be too difficult to suppress the rumors.
His phone remained silent.
Hank and the others were probably still busy containing the damage.
Ethan smiled and shook his head. He had left a considerable mess behind, and now he was sitting in the hot tub, drinking peacefully.
—You know it's dangerous to sneak up behind an armed police officer, right?
He took a drink directly from the bottle.
—What are you going to do, shoot me? You wouldn't be the first —Taylor replied from behind him.
Just like the night before, she had approached almost without making a sound. She took the bottle from his hand, drank deeply, and kicked off her shoes with a couple of quick movements.
Her bare feet crossed the cold tiles before she slowly stepped into the hot tub. Her jeans and white shirt became soaked; the fabric clung to her body, revealing the outline of the black bra underneath.
Taylor took a deep breath and submerged herself.
Her short blond hair floated across the surface like a large golden flower. Ethan remained silent, a cigarette between his lips, watching the seconds pass.
Almost a minute later, Taylor burst back above the surface, splashing water around her. She gasped for air before leaning her back against the edge of the hot tub.
Her wet hair fell messily across her face, and her eyes were red.
She looked at Ethan.
And asked in a voice heavy with emotion:
—Did I do something wrong?
Ethan exhaled slowly.
The cigarette smoke mingled with the steam rising from the hot tub, creating an almost ethereal scene for an instant.
His soaked clothes clung to his body, but the hot water produced a strange sense of comfort.
He took the bottle of whisky, drank from it, and looked at Taylor again.
—I don't understand what you mean.
—The people who work for me always receive some of the best treatment in the industry —Taylor replied, still upset—. I never treated Danny badly. I never did anything to him.
She pressed her lips together.
—So why would he do something like this to me?
She lowered her gaze toward the water.
—Is there something I didn't do well enough?
Ethan handed her the bottle.
Then he rested his head against the stone edge of the hot tub and looked up at the sky.
—Why would you let someone like that affect the way you see yourself?
Taylor remained silent.
—Why question yourself because of a piece of trash?
Ethan took another drag.
—Some people do terrible things without needing a reason. Not everything someone does to you is a consequence of something you did.
His absolute calm made Taylor study him for several seconds.
His gun rested beside him on the stone ledge.
Taylor ran both hands through her wet hair and pushed it back.
—You're right.
She took a deep breath.
—I shouldn't doubt myself because of someone like him.
She looked at Ethan again.
—But we just survived an assassination attempt. How can you be so calm?
Ethan flicked the ash from his cigarette.
—Do you get nervous when you sing?
Taylor frowned slightly.
—No.
She shook her head.
—I do it all the time. I'm used to it.
—Neither do I.
Ethan smiled.
—Danger is something I encounter pretty often.
He shrugged.
—I'm used to it.
Ring, ring!
The phone began to ring.
Ethan picked it up and answered, switching on the speaker.
—Ethan speaking.
—You guessed right.
Hank's voice came through from the other end, accompanied by sirens and the noise of police activity.
—It was him.
Ethan sat up slightly.
—He was discharged from the hospital this morning. We ran a thorough background check.
Hank paused briefly.
—He served in Iraq.
Ethan's expression turned serious.
—I'm at the scene of the attack —Hank continued—. And that bastard wasn't only after Miss Swift.
His voice hardened.
—You were the primary target.
—What?
Ethan frowned.
—Why?
—Every shot fired at the Range Rover was aimed at the driver's seat.
Hank was standing near the vehicle stopped in the road, turning a shell casing between his fingers.
—The rest of it barely took any hits.
Ethan remained silent.
—I have to admit —Hank continued—, you got lucky.
He paused.
—If you'd driven the Range Rover as planned, you would've taken every one of those bullets. Lucky bastard —Hank added.
—Sergeant.
Erin appeared behind him carrying an AR-15.
—We found this in a dumpster.
—But why?
Even over the phone, Ethan's confusion was obvious.
—Think about who the guy is —Erin replied with a laugh—. You're Miss Swift's favorite now. I'm not surprised he wanted to put a bullet in you.
Taylor slowly turned her head toward Ethan.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Erin continued:
—By the way, we need to search that man's room.
Her tone became more professional.
—Could you get Miss Swift's consent? It would save us time getting a search warrant.
—I consent.
Taylor's voice came through clearly.
There was silence on the other end.
—Miss Swift?
Erin's voice changed completely.
—Thank you for your cooperation.
God only knew how Taylor had ended up listening to that conversation. If Erin had known, she never would have made her previous comment.
—You're welcome —Taylor replied—. Thank you for going to all this trouble.
—It's no trouble at all.
Erin was so excited that she almost tripped over her own words.
The call ended.
Hank tossed her the shell casing.
—Put out a citywide BOLO.
Erin caught it.
—I want that bastard's picture on the phone of every patrol officer in Chicago.
Hank pointed toward the vehicles.
—Then we're going back to last night's house. We'll search the bodyguard's room.
—No problem.
Erin raised a hand, full of energy.
—When exactly did you become my favorite?
Taylor studied Ethan after he set down the phone.
There was amusement in her eyes.
Ethan quickly waved a hand.
—That's my partner, Erin. You met her last night... and, well, she's my girlfriend.
He gestured vaguely toward the phone.
—She's a fan of yours, and she hates me because I'm the one here. I think they've also been giving her a hard time about it at the office.
The answer was casual, but Taylor felt an unexpected pressure in her chest.
She barely knew Ethan and had no reason to feel disappointed, but learning that there was another woman in his life caused a discomfort she could not explain.
Perhaps it was merely a consequence of the fear, exhaustion, and everything that had happened.
She concealed her reaction behind a teasing smile.
—How disappointing.
—Detective Morgan.
Megan hurried outside from the house, her phone still in her hand.
—Chloe wants to come over. Is that all right? She also needs to bring some of Taylor's belongings.
After all, they were at Ethan's house. She could not invite anyone without consulting him, and Chloe did not even know the address.
—How many people? —Ethan asked—. I don't want a parade coming onto my property.
—Only Chloe. There are some things we need to discuss in person.
—What things? —Taylor asked.
Megan hesitated. Taylor's expression changed immediately, and all the relaxation from a few seconds earlier disappeared.
—Chloe wants to cancel the concert.
Megan fell silent.
Taylor stared at her, her gaze making it clear that was not going to happen.
—Didn't you see what just happened?
—Megan...
Megan cast an uncomfortable glance toward Ethan.
He understood immediately, but he wanted no part in that conversation.
—You two talk.
Ethan placed his hands on the edge of the hot tub and climbed out.
Water streamed from his clothes.
His soaked shirt clung to his torso.
He stepped away and pulled at it. Several buttons popped off, and the garment ended up in the trash.
Underneath, his physique was considerably more athletic than the suit had suggested.
The muscles across his torso and shoulders were clearly defined, and the contrast between the cold air and the heat radiating from his skin made a faint layer of steam seem to surround him.
For an instant, both Taylor and Megan lost track of the conversation.
Their gazes drifted toward him involuntarily.
Ethan did not seem to notice.
He opened the cabinet beneath the outdoor television, took out a thick towel, and wrapped it around his body.
Then he returned to the hot tub and collected his belongings.
—I'm going to take a shower.
Ethan looked at Taylor and Megan before nodding toward the house.
—Make yourselves at home. There are towels in the cabinet.
—Thank you —Taylor replied, turning away.
Ethan gave a faint smile and walked off. Taylor followed him with her gaze until he disappeared inside.
She had to admit that he was difficult to ignore. He was handsome, in exceptional physical condition, owned a multimillion-dollar house, and had just risked his life to protect her without hesitation.
The most uncomfortable part was that she now knew he had a girlfriend.
She had no reason to feel disappointed; she barely knew him. Yet after everything that had happened, it was inevitable that the man would stir something more than curiosity in her.
Ethan, unaware of her thoughts, crossed the house. He did not want to become involved in Taylor's professional affairs or the argument over the concert. His only job was to keep her alive, and he intended to see it through to the end.
He had a mission from the system and, as an added bonus, a guitar signed by Sir Paul, which to him was priceless.
After showering, he came out wearing a robe. The moment he reached the living room, his phone vibrated.
The intercom camera showed Chloe behind the wheel of a black Mercedes-Benz, waving impatiently. Ethan tapped the screen, and the iron gate began to open.
Before greeting her, he extended the range of his Radar.
The Mercedes traveled along the private drive and stopped beneath the portico. He detected only one point of light inside the vehicle.
Ethan relaxed slightly and opened the door.
—Welcome.
Chloe climbed out of the car and hurried up the steps.
—Where's Taylor? Is she all right?
—She's fine. Megan is with her.
Some of the tension left Chloe's face. She had stepped away from the stadium for a few minutes to handle another matter and had received word of the attack shortly afterward. She had nearly suffered a heart attack.
Ethan stepped aside to let her enter, but Chloe suddenly stopped.
—I almost forgot.
She returned to the Mercedes and pulled out several bags and two suitcases. Ethan walked down the steps and took them from her.
—I'll carry them.
—Thank you.
—But I need to search them first.
Chloe frowned.
—Are you serious?
—Someone hid a bomb inside a cake last night —Ethan replied calmly—. From now on, I'm searching anything that comes near Taylor.
Chloe looked at the suitcases and finally nodded.
—All right. Do it.
Ethan opened the luggage on the hood of the Mercedes. He found clothes, shoes, toiletries, and several accessories. Nothing dangerous.
—I heard what you did during the attack —Chloe said as she watched him—. You saved her life again. Thank you.
—It's my job.
—A job that nearly got you killed.
—It wouldn't be the first time.
Ethan checked the final compartment and closed the suitcase.
Before entering, Chloe looked over the residence.
—Nice house. I didn't know detectives made this much money.
Then her gaze traveled over Ethan's robe and his still-damp hair.
—Yeah, well, I can't complain.
Ethan let out a short laugh and stepped aside to let her pass. Chloe entered without wasting time; her priority was speaking with Taylor.
Canceling the concert would have enormous consequences, not only for them but also for sponsors, organizers, producers, workers, the media, and tens of thousands of fans. If they mishandled the situation, they could seriously damage the career Taylor had spent years building.
He returned to the living room, took a green apple from the fruit bowl, and turned on the television after biting into it.
Every so often, he glanced outside.
Chloe and Taylor were arguing beside the hot tub. Judging by their gestures, it did not appear to be a calm conversation.
Taylor held her ground.
Chloe wanted to cancel the concert, and Taylor was trying to convince her otherwise.
In a situation like that, it was difficult to say who was right. Taylor had just survived an attack. From Chloe's perspective, canceling was the most logical decision.
But Taylor's life no longer belonged solely to her.
That was one of the prices of fame. When too many people depended on you, even walking away could become a problem.
Someone was always watching.
Waiting for a mistake.
Waiting for a fall.
A moment later, Taylor entered the living room wrapped in nothing but a towel.
She stopped barefoot when she saw Ethan.
He pointed to one side.
—The bathroom is over there.
Taylor did not respond.
She simply walked in that direction with a grim expression.
Chloe and Megan entered behind her.
Both women looked dejected. The conversation had clearly not gone well.