Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was ten minutes before five, and the hospital walls had started to close in. Stepping into the cool fresh air outside to wait for Hunter appealed on a very high level.

It was already dusk, but a recent dusting of rain left the air crisp and moist. Gabi pulled up to the side of the building and leaned against it. After hours of sitting, drinking tea, and attempting to cheer up her boss and friend, she was in need of a break. Hospitals, ICUs, and patients on ventilators were triggers for too many bad memories. She hadn’t realized the stress on her shoulders until she noticed Hunter walking toward her.

He was dressed more casually than she’d ever seen him. Jeans and a jacket . . . and running shoes? Maybe it was his multitasking outfit.

She pushed off the side of the building to greet him. “You didn’t have to park.”

He stopped short and silently stared.

She moved closer, thinking he would greet her with a kiss. “What? Did your tongue step in front of the bus?”

A complete look of confusion crossed his face and Gabi felt her smile fall.

“You must be her.”

“What?”

“Hunter’s wife.”

Gabi stepped back. In an instant, she realized her mistake. Dear Lord, they looked exactly the same. “Oh.”

“You’re more beautiful than the pictures in the magazines,” Noah said . . . the inflection in his voice mimicked her husband.

A charming smile, one Gabi had seen a few times on Hunter’s face since Dallas, put her on edge more than she expected.

“I thought you were Hunter.”

Noah was quick to laugh. “We get that a lot.”

Gabi made sure there was plenty of space between them. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That charming smile didn’t fall, but something shifted in his eyes. “Nothing good, I’m sure. My brother has an interesting grasp on reality.”

There was no proper reply, so Gabi kept silent.

He stuck his hand out in front of him. “Noah Blackwell.”

Nice controlling move . . .

Gabi looked at his hand but made no movement to close the distance to shake it.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Blackwell. In the space of one minute you’ve insulted my husband, and in turn, me. What are you doing here?”

He slowly lowered his arm, his smile becoming much more sinister. “What did he tell you?”

This was not a game she wanted to play. She glanced out into the circular drive of the hospital, fully expecting to witness someone with a camera nearby. If they were out there, they hid well.

“I’m not the evil twin, Gabriella.”

Her head snapped to his. “I don’t believe I’ve given you leave to use my first name.”

“I see he’s already poisoned you. He does have a way of manipulating everyone around him to get what he wants.”

“Why are you still standing here? Whatever goal you’ve set out to accomplish is not going to happen.”

Noah Blackwell sat back on his heels and smiled again. “I have a
feeling our paths will cross again. It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Blackwell.”

She didn’t look at him as he passed by her and into the hospital.

Two minutes later, Hunter pulled his car into the drop-off.

Casual slacks . . . but not jeans . . . and his button-up shirt and dinner jacket brought relief. He stepped out of the car to greet her and she stepped into his embrace and sighed.

“It’s good to see you,” she said.

“Well, if I thought dinner was going to start like this, I would have come earlier.”

She started to shake.

“Gabi?” Hunter pulled out of her hug and studied her. “What’s wrong?”

She looked behind her. “I-I just met your brother.”

Hunter’s hand squeezed her shoulders, his face turned to stone. “You what?”

“Here . . . he stepped into the hospital less than three minutes ago.”

His gaze moved beyond her, then back. “Did he hurt you?”

“No . . . just said a few things. I thought he was you at first.”

“Wait here.” Hunter ran toward the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she yelled after him.

If Hunter heard her, he didn’t indicate it.

Gabi stood beside the open door of Hunter’s Maserati, the engine still humming as it idled in the drive.

Hunter disappeared behind the sliding doors of the hospital, leaving her staring after him. She held on to the top of the car with the passenger door opened and tried her best attempt at appearing patient.

With all the fidgeting she was trying to control, Gabi was fairly certain any cameras pointing on the outside of the hospital painted her as a woman standing by the getaway car.

Hunter emerged from the doors several minutes later. Gabi did a mental check . . . he was wearing slacks, not jeans.

She sighed.

“Did you see him?”

He shook his head. “He doesn’t stick around for long.”

There was a car behind them, pinned because of a small bus that had sandwiched them in. The driver tapped his horn. Hunter held the passenger door while Gabi slipped inside.

“Are you OK?”

“Shaking . . . which is stupid, he didn’t do anything. I think it was the shock of realizing a half a second too late that he wasn’t you. I almost kissed him.”

Hunter gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “But you didn’t.”

Gabi wrapped her arms around her stomach. “No.” She really wasn’t feeling well. The car hit a buckle in the road and her head started to spin.

“What did he say?” They stopped at the red light and Hunter glanced her way.

“That he wasn’t the evil twin. I told him he was wasting his time talking to me.”

“But he knew who you were.”

“Yes. Said he recognized me from the paper . . . or something like that.” The light turned green and Hunter kept driving. “What game do you think he’s playing?”

“The same one he’s been playing since our teens. Undermine, discredit, and deceive.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if the man followed in your footsteps and earned his own living?” Gabi asked.

Hunter actually laughed. “Not when someone else can do all the hard stuff and he can sweep in and take.” Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in a quiet booth in a tiny, informal steakhouse.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Hunter told her.

“I don’t think—”

The waiter stepped up and Hunter ordered them wine.

He waited until after their wine arrived before asking for every detail of her encounter with Noah.

When their brief meeting had been recited, she sipped her wine, thankful Hunter insisted on it.

“His presence wasn’t an accident. This is what he does. He shows up in the places I’m going to be . . . makes nice with those around me, and sprinkles doubt about my resolve to keep my distance from him. A master manipulator must first gain the trust of those he’s sinking his claws in. Now that you’ve seen him once, he will be around again. I’d bet money on it.”

“How would he know I was there? Or do you think he was trying to find you?”

“If he wanted to find me, all he would have to do is show up at the office. He could have followed you, got wind via the media. He was after something else.” He sat back in thought. “His drive-by makes it clear why you need a bodyguard.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

Hunter cut her off. “It’s already in motion, Gabi. I spoke with Neil before picking you up. He will have a team at the new house to wire tomorrow, a personal bodyguard will meet us at the hospital when we go back.”

“Oh, Hunter.”

“You’re a smart woman. You know I’m right about this.”

The thought of mistaking Noah for her husband a second time . . . alone . . . made her pause. “Fine. You’re right.”

Hunter lifted both eyebrows. “Did that hurt?”

“Saying you’re right?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

She tapped her chest. “A little. Right here.”

Hunter leaned forward and took her hand in his. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Smooth talker.”

“Is it working?” He kissed the back of her hand.

Yeah . . . her stomach had settled and she was no longer shaking. “Well,” she started, “I haven’t told you to jump in front of a bus for at least an hour.”

The funeral took place a week to the day after Jordan passed away. The minister spoke of happier times, of the lives Jordan had touched and the love one sister had for the other.

Gabi looked around the church at the multitude of the Harrisons’ friends. She knew that many of the couples were together because of Samantha’s service. Alliance was born in an attempt to make the money Sam needed to care for her sister. In a way, Jordan was partially responsible for the marriages surrounding her.

For that, Gabi kept a smile in her heart for the young woman whose life touched so many.

Family and close friends took up the front of the church. There were politicians, businessmen, members of parliament who flew in from London to show their respect. Toward the back of the church sat dozens of caregivers who had taken care of Jordan over the years. From the care home she’d lived in before Sam and Blake married to the private care nurses who were round the clock in the Harrison home, the venue was filled.

When the procession moved to the graveside, the numbers thinned . . . and then again when they finished at a reception at the Harrisons’ Malibu estate.

Gabi took the role of coordinating staff, keeping the kitchen moving, the servers working. With so many dignitaries in attendance, there was an equal amount of bodyguards and security staff. To make matters worse, the three different service attendants wore wires to their ears, but instead of sidearms, they held cocktail trays.

Gabi made it a mission that no one bothered Samantha with anything. Being far removed from an emotional connection with the deceased made it easier for her to act as ambassador to the event.

The house appeared to swell with people. Just when Gabi thought they were at capacity, more arrived.

Cooper, the man assigned as her bodyguard for the day, tried his best to blend into the background. He sucked at blending.

“What are you doing in the kitchen?” The question came from the doorway. Gwen stood with a hand on her hip. “You don’t need to do this.”

Gabi glanced in her direction and then back to the tray in front of her. “These are ready, Alice, thank you.” The server lifted the tray over her shoulder and into the fray.

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m Italian . . . I ignore what I don’t want to hear.”

Gwen laughed. “Well I’m English, and I’m calling you on it. Hunter asked me to pry you from the kitchen.”

Gabi couldn’t help the smile on her face. Hunter continued to surprise her. Not only had he put most of his life on hold in the past week, but he selflessly offered more of his time and attention to her network of friends and family.

“I like to keep busy; he should know that about me by now.”

The staff buzzed around the room like a well-oiled machine.

“He does know you by now. And how is that?” Gabi grabbed a toothpick full of Gouda as the server passed and tossed it in her mouth. “I thought you two were an Alliance union.”

“We are.” There wasn’t any heat in her words. “Most of the time.”

Gwen lifted a very English brow. “Most of the time?”

Just then, Meg and Judy walked into the kitchen . . . the staff continued to work around them. “There you are . . . Hunter’s looking for you,” Meg said.

Gabi rolled her eyes.

“She’s in here,” Gwen said. “Telling me how she and Hunter are an Alliance union
most of the time
.”

Meg nudged Judy with a knowing smile. “Told you.”

“Most of the time? What exactly does that mean?” Meg asked . . . as if she didn’t know.

With a kitchen full of hired staff, Gabi turned toward them and placed her hands on her hips. “It means I’m not a saint,” she confessed with heat in her face.

Judy and Meg started to laugh and Gwen caught on.

“So what does this mean?” Judy asked.

Meg shoved her friend again. “It means they’re having sex.”

Gabi shushed her and Gwen laughed.

Thankfully, the staff dipped their heads and pretended they weren’t listening.

“Oh, for crying out loud . . . I’m intimate with my husband. What a crime.”