“Right,” Chloe winced. “Sorry, darling. I just thought I should admit that—well. That I might possibly have been the one who started the entire visit. Not Mum and Dad.”

Well, now. That was unexpected.

“Basically,” Red piped up from down the hall, “Chloe heard that voice note and decided you were in grave danger.”

“And I said,” Dani interjected, “in danger of what? Having her brains bonked out?”

“But then Zaf said,” Chloe went on, “that intimate relationships with superiors were dangerous ground, ripe for potential coercion, and that we didn’t even know the man, and should therefore intercede.”

Zaf crossed his massive arms over his massive chest and glowered. “Actually, I said it all seemed a bit dodgy and we should give her a ring.”

“But then I accidentally asked Gigi for her opinion,” Dani said, “and she told Aunty Mary, who told Mother, and it was all over.”

All over indeed.

Eve sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You know what? It really doesn’t matter who started it. This entire family is a lost cause and I love you all very much, but we’ll pick this up later. I need to get back to Skybriar.”

Dani grinned. “Are you wildly in love with your boss? Zaf says you might be.”

Eve narrowed her eyes and pointed at Zafir. “Stop that.”

He flashed a shockingly pretty smile. “Which means yes.”

“Oh, bugger off, the lot of you. I have to go.” She snagged her car keys and opened the door.

“Er, hang on a second,” Zaf said, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. “Didn’t you run someone over the last time you got behind a wheel?”

Eve glared. “The second to last time, actually.”

“Still, though. And aren’t you in a rush?”

“Yes, which is why I’d appreciate it if you’d—”

“All right,” Red interjected, pushing off the wall—did the man do anything other than lean?—and strolling past her out of the door. “This is easily sorted,” he said as he approached the gleaming blue Triumph parked innocuously on her parents’ gravel driveway. “All things considered, Eve, how’s about I give you a lift?”

Chapter Twenty-One

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jacob growled.

Tessa shot him a look from the driver’s seat. “Don’t you curse at me, Jacob Wayne. I’m a lady.”

“I think he’s cursing the traffic, actually,” Alex piped up from the back seat.

“Yes,” Jacob gritted out. He’d assumed that was obvious. It had been over an hour since he’d left the B&B in Mont’s hands, yet they were barely eighty miles closer to the address Eve had left on file, an address belonging to one Chloe Brown.

Jacob’s original plan had been to get up bright and early this morning, jump in his car, drive or possibly fly to Chloe’s house, get Eve’s whereabouts from her—or, ideally, find Eve in the guest bedroom—and then . . . er . . . fix things. He was still a little hazy on that part, but he had the necessary passion and determination, and he was also going to grab some flowers on the way so he could get down on his knees and apologize as profusely as she deserved. Seriously. He was going to apologize so goddamn hard, and then some more, and then some more, just to really emphasize the point.