“So? What do we care if he gave someone his Horn?”
Hux and Elvo snickered.
Champ muttered something about working with preteens. “Because there’s no reason for him to hand it off to anyone. Nobody’s accusing anyone of anything, Riggsy. It’s just an open loop to be closed, that’s all. Unless you’re implying something more than that?” he asked Hux.
Hux shook his head. “Not at all. It’s probably nothing, and I wouldn’t have thought much about it, except he made a point of showing it to Carter, and now it’s missing. And since Buck isn’t around anymore to ask…” He glanced at me.
“You should ask him,” I snapped. “You found the loop, you should close it your own damn self.”
Hux’s eyes widened, and Elvo made a barely perceptible cat-hissing noise at me behind Champ’s back. I shot him the finger.
Champ turned back to me. I wasn’t stupid; he’d seen everything. “Riggs will close the loop. He’s the one with the client relationship, so he can sweet-talk the doctor for us. Go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow I want you to find out what Carter Rogers knows about that Horn. Got it?”
My heart picked up speed. “Got it.”
It was official now. I needed to go see Carter.
My job depended on it, which meant I could stop wondering whether or not my heart did too.
I tried calling him on my way out of the office, but there was no answer. Showing up unannounced while he was trying to sleep off the misadventures of our trip wasn’t a good idea. I could be patient. I texted him to let me know when I could come by, but he didn’t answer the texts either.
For another twenty-four hours, Carter Rogers ghosted me. By the time I got up the nerve to ask Champ the next day where I could find Carter, I was shaking with a combination of nerves and anger. Did I mean so little to him that he couldn’t even answer and let me know how he was?
Champ told me he was at the same estate where the gala had been held. My plan was to simply show up and hope to hell he’d talk to me. I needed to convince him to give me a chance. I wanted more time with him. I wanted to get to know him better away from the craziness of our time in Venezuela.
By the time I showered, shaved, dressed in a decent pair of slacks and button-up shirt, and headed to my favorite wine store, I was nervous enough to make my car keys jingle in my hand as I stared down at the bottles on display.
I wanted something unique. Something that showed how much Carter meant to me but that wasn’t flashy since I knew he didn’t care about that stuff. Something as special as he was… which was a fucking tall order for a bottle of squashed grapes.
But as I scanned the wine descriptions, one label jumped out at me, and I laughed out loud in the middle of the store at the utter rightness of it. I hadn’t known it would be possible to find something that perfect…
Which was kinda how I felt about Carter.
My nerves returned with a vengeance, though, when I arrived at the mansion. Somehow, it seemed even larger than it had the night of the gala.
It had turrets. And a servants’ entrance.
And a Rolls-Royce parked in the drive next to a flashy BMW, two Mercedes, and a sleek convertible sports car that looked like something out of a magazine.
“Get it the fuck together, shithead,” I mumbled under my breath. “This is Carter. Your Carter. You’ve been inside his body. He’s not a strange—”
The heavy wooden door opened, and an honest-to-God butler appeared. “May I help you, sir?” he asked with a sniff.
“Yeah, uh… um…” I swallowed and started again. “I’m here to see Dr. Carter Rogers?”
Why had I formed it as a question? They had to have known who I was since I’d checked in with the Champion Security team stationed at the gate.
I repeated my words, this time more firmly. “I’m here to see Carter Rogers.”
The older man lifted an eyebrow. “And you are…?”
Annoyed? Impressed? Peeved? About to shit myself?
“William Riggs,” I said through tight teeth, standing a little straighter and barely resisting the urge to state my rank as well. I didn’t like being a fish out of water. My clothes suddenly itched, and I was half a second from bolting. I’d forgotten what kind of world Carter came from, and it was obvious I’d been fooling myself into thinking a man like him could see a future with a guy like me.
“Wait right here,” the man said, gesturing me into the foyer before turning and walking away.
I blew out a breath and looked around. The house looked like something that had been plucked from a rolling estate in New England and set down on the outskirts of Licking Thicket without regard to how out of place it would be in rural Tennessee. I wondered who’d built it originally if Dr. Rogers, Sr., had only owned it a short time.