TRAINED I barely remembered the drive to Gage’s place in Portland Heights. My GPS directed me there, but if I needed to repeat the trip without assistance I’d more than likely get lost. A wall of trees cradled his massive house, affording a sense of seclusion even though the city sparkled below. Willing my skittish feet to stay put, I rapped on the door. He yanked it open. “You’re late.” He took one look at my business suit and frowned. “Training you is going to be a challenge, I see.” The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he relished the idea. Gage gestured for me to enter the foyer. He grabbed my purse before I could protest and rifled through it. “Hand over your phone, too.” “I need it in case the hospital calls.” “I’ve arranged for them to call me in case of an emergency.” Wondering how he’d managed that, I reluctantly handed him my cell. He also took my coat, and then locked all of my belongings in a closet by the door. We stepped down into the living room.
