Of course they did.
Because apparently I had boarded a flight beside the only man in America who needed armed surveillance simply to collect luggage.
I stopped before the SUV.
“No.”
Ethan stopped too.
“I’m going to my sister’s hotel.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to tell me no.”
One of his guards glanced away.
Apparently people didn’t speak to Ethan Callahan that way often.
I stepped closer.
“My sister is getting married tomorrow. I spent money I don’t have getting here. I don’t know those men. I don’t know you. For all I know, you hired them.”
“That’s possible.”
The answer startled me.
He continued.
“If you were smart, you’d consider it.”
“Are you always this reassuring?”
“No.”
Sophie stirred.
Ethan’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
Then he showed me another photograph.
This one showed one of the men at the airport standing beside someone outside a downtown hotel.
My stomach dropped.
I knew that face.
Grant Mercer.
My sister’s fiancé.
The man whose elegant engagement photographs were currently all over Isabel’s social media.
The man she was supposed to marry in less than eighteen hours.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
“That man waiting for you at the airport works for your future brother-in-law.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Rachel—”
“How do you know my name?”
Silence.
The rain tapped against the SUV roof.
I stepped backward.
“You never asked my name on the plane.”
Ethan said nothing.
Every instinct inside me screamed.
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
That terrified me more than his reputation.
I backed away.
“You sat beside me on purpose.”
“Yes.”
The airport suddenly felt very empty.
“You knew I was coming to Chicago.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because three days ago, your name appeared in a security file connected to Grant Mercer.”
I stared at him.
“What kind of security file?”
“A kidnapping contingency.”
The world tilted.
Sophie made a sleepy sound against my chest.
Ethan opened the SUV door.
“Get inside, Rachel.”
This time, I did.
Ethan Callahan lived in a mansion overlooking Lake Michigan that looked less like a home and more like a beautiful fortress.
Cameras.
Steel gates.
Men with earpieces.
Windows tall enough to belong in a museum.
I hated every second of being there.
But Sophie was warm.
Safe.
Fed.
And no one was following us.
At 5:14 that morning, I finally reached Isabel.
“Rachel?”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Izzy.”
“Oh my God. You made it.”
Her voice sounded wrong.
Too bright.
Too controlled.
“Where are you?”
“At the hotel.”
“Is Grant there?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
Another pause.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Suddenly a man’s voice came through.
“Rachel! Welcome to Chicago.”
Grant.
Smooth.
Charming.
“I was worried when we heard you didn’t come through arrivals.”
My blood went cold.
“How did you know?”
Silence.
Only for half a second.
But enough.
Grant recovered.
“The hotel arranged transportation.”
“I never told the hotel my flight number.”
Another silence.
Then Isabel spoke too quickly.
“Rachel, maybe you should rest.”
“Izzy, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Tell me the name of Mom’s favorite song.”
“What?”
“Tell me.”
Grant laughed softly in the background.
“Rachel, I think everyone’s tired.”
