Beverly Long – Protecting The Boss (страница 9)
“I don’t think so,” she said. She stabbed the elevator button. The gym was on the top floor. Once they were inside the space, she took two deep breaths, then turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t normally wake up bitchy. But you surprised me.”
He shrugged, not looking concerned. “Well, then we’re even. You surprised me, too. Wasn’t expecting the door to open at five o’clock.”
“You were in the hallway all night?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
As if that were perfectly reasonable. “Because you were worried that somebody was going to try to get in or that I was going to try to get out?”
“Maybe a little of both,” he said.
“We have no idea if somebody was actually shooting at me. Maybe they were aiming at you.”
“No way. Everybody loves me,” he said.
“Then it was probably just random.”
“Very possible. I’ll follow up with the Vegas police this morning to see if they know any more.”
She’d been planning to do that. But it wouldn’t make sense for both of them to call. “You have to be exhausted. You couldn’t have gotten much sleep sitting up in the hallway.”
“I got enough,” he said. “Had a nice conversation with the night manager around three when he tried to remove me. Evidently, they picked me up on camera. It’s not comforting that it took them that long.”
The elevator doors opened and she stepped out. “What did you tell them?”
He didn’t answer right away. He was looking around, to the left, to the right. There was only one other guest using a treadmill. Finally, he turned to her. “That you’d dumped me and if I couldn’t change your mind in the morning, I was going to throw myself over the Hoover Dam.”
“You didn’t,” she said.
“Maybe,” he said. He walked over to a rowing machine that faced the elevators. “I’ll give this a go.”
She told herself not to watch him, to just run her miles and forget him. But that was hard to do. Even in his dress shirt, she could see his muscles flex as he pulled on the rope. She was getting all hot and sweaty and it had nothing to do with her pace.
She ran for forty minutes before slowing the machine down to a walk. After another minute, she stopped it and grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf. She wiped her face, then draped it around her neck. He was already off the rowing machine.
He was watching the man who’d been on the other treadmill approach them. When the elevator door opened, she stepped in. Then felt a hand on her hip. She almost let out a yelp but realized in time that it was Seth, simply edging her in the direction of the corner. Then he placed himself in front of her, between her and the man.
By the time they got off on their floor, leaving the poor man by himself, she was strangely irritated. “Don’t you think you’re carrying this a bit too far? The man was just jogging. Not a threat to me.”
“Can’t be too careful,” he said. They were at her door. “In that spirit, give me your room card. I’ll open your door.”
She decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. It wasn’t going to take him long. It was just a bed and a small bath.
He handed her back her key when he was finished. “I need to go home and get showered and changed.”
“That’s fine. We’re not leaving here until four.” That had been clearly stated on the contract. “You have the whole day.”
He continued to stand there. “What time are you headed over to the boutique?” he asked.
It was none of his business. But she didn’t say that. The man had slept in the hall. Not her fault, but still. “At eleven. I’ve got back-to-back meetings with our general contractor and our architects.”
“You have our office number?” he asked.
“I do.”
“And my cell?”
“Already in my phone.”
“And you would call if you needed something?”
“I’m not going to need anything,” she said. “But yes, I would,” she added, because she had the feeling that he was seconds away from insisting that he spend the day with her. She needed some space. Some time to get her head together. She couldn’t start a big road trip with somebody who had her off her stride. “I’ll meet you in front of the boutique at 4:00 p.m.”
“I could swing by and give you a ride later this morning.”
“Evan and Abigail are picking me up,” she said.
“Oh, okay.”
He didn’t sound convinced but she wasn’t giving in. She couldn’t be concerned that he wasn’t completely satisfied with the plan. Probably he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything that wasn’t his plan. He might be providing security but he wasn’t calling the shots. “Is there anything else?” she asked, her voice deliberately curt.
He shook his head. “Naw. I should probably get going. I can tell you’re busy,” he added, letting her know that he knew he was getting the brush-off.
She refused to feel bad about that.
He waited until he heard the bolt lock turn and then he left. Not 100 percent happy to do so, but knew that he’d pushed her about as far as he could. Contrary to what his partners might believe, he did have a restraint gene.
Now his best bet was to get coffee and a shower, in that order. As he walked to the elevator, he checked his cell phone, making sure he hadn’t missed a call when he’d been in the hotel gym. Late last night, once he’d made the decision to spend the night outside Megan’s room, he’d called his good friend Bobby Bayleaf. With more than twenty years as a Vegas cop, the man would have access to the information that Seth wanted.
But there was nothing on his phone yet. No surprise there. It wasn’t even six o’clock. He took the elevator to the third-floor lobby and then the escalator down to the ground floor. Walked to the coffee shop that was four doors away. He got a large coffee and an egg, cheese and bacon sandwich on a muffin. His car was still back at the Wingman Security offices and he started walking, eating his sandwich on the way. By the time he reached the parking lot, he’d finished both the coffee and the food. Felt a little more human.
Knew that he likely looked rough after his night in the hallway. On the other hand, Megan had looked like a million bucks when she’d practically bounced out of her hotel room. Hair in a cute little ponytail, nicely coordinated workout outfit, new-looking shoes. He’d been impressed.
And then he’d seen the bruise. And having had his share of bruises in his youth from his many fistfights, he’d immediately assumed that she’d been hit. And the idea of that, of her being physically attacked, had made his empty stomach roll.
He’d felt a little better once she’d explained that it had come from a car accident but he’d still felt bad that she’d been hurt.
He opened the door of his old Jeep and drove the twenty minutes to the house where his mother had lived for the last thirty years before she’d moved in to the assisted living center a few years earlier. She’d been reluctant to totally leave the house. He’d been more reluctant to let her stay, a mile from the nearest neighbor, after she’d fallen and broken her leg and lain in the yard for four hours before help had happened by. In an effort to compromise, he offered to leave his city apartment and move in to the house if she’d agree to move in to Everpark. That way, they still both had their independence but the house would be there for her if she ever wanted to come back.
Now she came for Sunday dinners that they cooked together and seemed okay with that arrangement.
Once at the house, he started more coffee and stepped into the really hot shower. Ten minutes later, he was finished and pulling on clothes. Then he pulled a suitcase off the top shelf of his closet. Started packing. Mostly dress shirts and dress pants. Things that he could wear a sport coat with so his gun would be hidden.
He grabbed some other essentials, remembering at the last minute to add some workout clothes.
But nor did he want to stand out unnecessarily, especially when he was working a job. Which was why the last thing he packed in his bag was his tux for Rico’s wedding. He folded the plastic suit bag it was hanging inside, hanger and all, hoping that it wouldn’t wrinkle too badly. He glanced at his watch. It was fifteen minutes before seven. He dialed his friend. “Morning, sunshine,” he said.
Bobby Bayleaf, who was big, black and had played tackle in college, offered up a string of profanity that ended with Seth sticking the sun where it wouldn’t shine.
“Now, now,” Seth said. “Isn’t your department working on better relationships with its citizenry?”
“You’re not citizenry. You’re the guy on the bus who used to pick fights with me, even when I got big enough to pound on you.”
For a long while, he’d solved a number of problems with his fists. But then he’d started to fly and everything had changed. “I was just preparing you for your future,” Seth said. “Listen, do you have anything on the shooting last night?”
“Nope. I talked to the detective who snagged the case. Officers canvassed the area where the shots were thought to come from but nobody saw nothing. And there weren’t any other shootings in that area. They’re writing it off as an isolated incident.”