Free Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) by Jessica Keller Page A

slaves belonged to which master.” He touched the barbell on his eyebrow.
    “You mean they…?”
    “Yeah, they forced their slaves to be pierced in different places. Isn’t it odd that we consider it fashion now?”
    She reached for the door handle, then pulled her hand back. “If you’re against it then why do you have one? You’re not a slave.”
    “I got it in college when I became a Christian. It’s my reminder that I’ve chosen to be a slave to Christ. That I work for Him and promote His Kingdom with my life no matter what the cost, because He owns my life.”
    “Okay, I can’t fault you anymore. That’s the coolest—”
    Someone rapped on the window, and Whitney screamed. She latched onto Nate’s hand and squeezed. Shaken, she turned and let out a deep breath. “It’s Owen. I have to go. Thanks for the ride.”
    Ducking out of the car, she gave Nate a wave.
    “Who is that?” Owen bent to catch a glimpse of Nate as he backed out of the parking lot.
    Whitney faced Owen, and her breath caught. Beams from the streetlamp glimmered off his black dress shoes. The dark-wash jeans, untucked button-down, and dark sports coat he wore gave off a man-about-town vibe as he caught her elbows. The strength in his hands reminded her of his recent past spent in the baseball minor leagues.
    “A guy from the historical place who’s been helping me research. It got late so he drove me home.”
    “I’ve missed you.” His head dipped for a quick kiss. Mesmerizing blue eyes raked over her face.
    She leaned away. “I haven’t heard a word from you all week. Didn’t you supposedly break up with me?”
    Owen tugged her against his chest. She buried her nose into his neck, breathing in his Acqua Di Gio cologne, the spicy Mediterranean notes familiar after a year of dating. His arms entwined at the small of her back, under the book bag. Prickles from his well-trimmed bread itched her forehead.
    Her hands rose and fell under his deep breath.
    “I said on hold .” Still embracing her he allowed some space between them. “The office hasn’t stopped being bombarded with calls about your great-great-grandfather. Mom doesn’t think it’s wise for you to show your face yet.”
    “Is that what you want?” Whitney’s hands dropped to her side.
    “What I want doesn’t matter. I’m not going against my mother on this. She’s a fierce campaign manager and I’m not about to cross the only family I’ve got left.”
    It wasn’t worth pushing when it came to his mother. She’d learned that on only their second date.
    “You’re right.” She grabbed the straps of her bag.
    “Hey.” He pulled her into a quick bear hug again. “I want you around. This is hard on me, too.”
    Whitney shrugged out of his hold. “Well, I’m going to head up to my place then.”
    Owen glanced back at her apartment. “I can’t stand that you live in this rundown building.”
    “Well, it’s what I can afford.” She scuffed her shoe against the pavement.
    He looped his hands in his jean pockets and headed toward his car. When she reached the front doors to the complex, he called out, “someday we’ll change that.”
    ***
    After pawing through the twelfth box of the day and coming up void, Whitney pulled herself off the cement floor of the archive area and stretched.
    Nate lifted the box back onto the shelving unit, making sure the label faced the correct way. “So? Owen Taylor.” He whistled.
    She dusted off her hands by clapping them together. “It was so dark out last night, how’d you recognize him?”
    “I followed his minor league career with the Kane County Cougars. The man’s throwing arm is killer. He’s hard to miss.”
    “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the watch-baseball type.”
    Nate shrugged. “Besides the guy’s been on the cover of every Chicago magazine in the past three months. He’ll most likely be the next mayor, going down in the history books as the youngest to take the position. I don’t even know