Page 130 of When He Plays

She tiptoed forward, still so nervous that she was practically shaking. How could a spy be afraid of a grandmother? But she was. Because this woman meant so much to Logan. “I, um, I’m Charlotte.” She lifted the flowers that she’d brought. Daisies. Logan had said they were his grandmother’s favorite. She’d accidentally shaken off a few of the white petals with her nervous fingers. “I brought these for you.”

Nana clapped her hands in excitement. She reached for the flowers.

Charlotte extended them toward her.

Nana froze. Shock flashed on her face. She didn’t take the flowers. Instead, she grabbed Charlotte’s hand in a surprisingly strong grip. Charlotte’s left hand.

“That’s my ring.” Nana tightened her hold on Charlotte. “You’re wearing my ring.”

Oh, no. Was Nana upset? Should she offer to give the ring back?

Tears slid down Nana’s cheeks.

“Please don’t cry,” Charlotte whispered. “I’ll give it back. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nana sniffed. “Don’t you dare give it back.” Her head turned toward Logan. “You love her?”

“I sure do.”

Charlotte felt those easy words roll right through her.

“Then so do I.” Nana was back to looking at her. Smiling so brightly. “I’m Logan’s Nana,” she said, nodding. Beaming.

Charlotte swallowed. “And I’m his wife.”

They visited with Nana for almost two hours. Logan knew the signs to watch for, the tells that showed when his grandmother was getting tired. When her shoulders began to slump and her words to slur softly, he bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Time to rest, Nana,” he told her.

She reached up. Patted his shoulder. Then, “I am tired, Adam. I feel…so very tired.”

Adam. His father’s name. She often confused him and his father these days, so he just nodded. “Let’s get you in bed, and you can sleep for a while. A nap will probably do you good.”

She studied his features. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Her lips pulled down. “You don’t have to work for Freya.”

He sucked in a breath.

“I…she’s my friend, but that work…Freya…she’s so secretive. Be careful with her, son. Be very careful.”

It had been a statement just like that—one given when Nana confused him with his father—that had first turned his suspicions to Freya. A beloved family friend.

A cold-blooded killer.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I know we fought…” Nana swallowed. “Fought so badly about the work you’re doing. I-I hate what I said. I want you back. I miss you so.”

“You have me back. You will always have me.” He pressed another kiss to her cheek. Then, with Charlotte rushing to help, he lifted his Nana up, he carried her to bed, and he gently tucked her beneath the covers. “I love you.”

She went to sleep with a soft smile on her lips.

As soon as they left his grandmother’s suite…

“Gonna tell me what that stuff with Freya was about?” Charlotte asked him.

He reached for her hand. Twined his fingers with hers. “Freya killed my father and my mother.”