by Jan Moran
Working in unison, the men entered Scarlett’s room with caution.
Johnny sank his head into his hands and prayed as he had never prayed before. Please, please save her. Every nerve in his body was on high alert.
He waited for the sound of more gunshots, but it was all clear. He peered in.
Two men were helping Scarlett out. When she saw Johnny, she fell into his arms, clinging to him with all her might.
“Hey, hey, you’re safe now,” he said, clutching her. He’d been so frightened of losing her, and their lives had flashed through his mind. Their time together had been too short. You don’t always have tomorrow, he realized. Scarlett was shivering with shock in his arms.
The team cleared the room and secured it. One of the burly officers approached him with his hands on his hips. “Evidence from the sniper was found across the street.”
“Was it a terrorist?” Johnny asked.
“No. It looks personal. We need to speak with both of you. Wait here.”
As if they had a choice. Another officer stood guard beside them.
“Can I get some blankets?” Johnny asked, pressing Scarlett to his chest. Her hair was damp, and she was trembling in her robe.
The officer signaled a hotel employee, who reappeared with a stack of blankets. Johnny sat on the floor and draped blankets around Scarlett. He cradled her in his lap.
She managed a small laugh though chattering teeth. “You need one, too. Sitting here in your shorts and T-shirt.”
Johnny grinned at her. At least she was speaking again. “How about a cup of tea? Or hot chocolate?”
A smile twitched her lips. “Tea. I’d like that.”
Johnny requested hot tea, and within minutes another employee arrived with a tray. Scarlett gripped a steaming cup in her hands.
Johnny leaned his head against the wall and gazed around the lavishly decorated corridor. “Hell of a way to spend an evening at the Ritz, isn’t it?”
After the commotion died down and guests returned to their rooms, the police escorted Johnny and Scarlett to Johnny’s suite, where Scarlett sank onto a tufted loveseat. A fresh pot of Earl Grey tea sat on the French coffee table before her. The hotel manager couldn’t do enough for them; he promised he would have Scarlett’s personal effects moved to another suite after the police had finished their work in her rooms.
Scarlett still wore her bathrobe. Johnny grabbed a pair of worn jeans and slid into them. He figured enough people in the hotel had seen his underwear.
Johnny joined Scarlett on the beige settee and wrapped his arm around Scarlett, who was still shivering from shock and adrenaline. The color was returning to her face, and she seemed stronger. He never wanted to let her out of his sight again, though he knew that was an unreasonable expectation. He’d settle for tonight.
The police officer asked for their passports. “Scarlett Sandoval, Johnny Silva.” He scribbled notes on a pad of paper.
“What happened?” Scarlett asked, sitting up straighter with a burst of energy. “Why was I targeted? Who did this?”
Johnny grinned at her. Interrogating the police officers. That’s more like the Scarlett he knew.
“We found evidence in an empty office facing your room.” The officer wagged his head. “Do you recognize this photo, Senorita?”
Scarlett peered at it. “It’s my headshot from the law firm I work for.”
“How would the sniper have gotten this?”
She adjusted her bathrobe, hugging it closer to her. “It’s on the company website. Anyone could have printed it from the web.”
“And who knew you were staying here?”
“Not many people. My office, travel agent, client, mother, and a few friends.” Scarlett ticked off people on her fingers. “No one who’d want to kill me, though.”
“Family or friends?”
“I have very good personal relationships. I can’t imagine any of them would have tried to kill me.”
The officer shot a look at Johnny. “Husband?”
“Johnny? No, of course not. I mean, I’m not married. Yet. Or rather, no plans, immediate or otherwise.” Scarlett seemed flustered. “Not that it’s out of the question, you understand.” She sighed and gulped tea from a gold-rimmed porcelain cup, her hands shaking.
The officer swung his eyes from Johnny to Scarlett. “And how would you define this relationship?”
“Friends,” Scarlett said, answering too decisively for Johnny’s taste. “Maybe it was a random person I met here in Madrid.”
“It’s possible. And in case we need to contact you, where will you be tonight?”
Scarlett shot a questioning look at Johnny.
“She’s staying with me tonight.”
“I suggest you change rooms, too, Mr. Silva. Put the room under a different name.” The officer rose. “We will contact you when we have more information.”
Johnny called the front desk, and minutes later, the manager showed them to another suite, which was recorded at the front desk under a false name. Johnny glanced around the suite, taking in the gleaming chandelier, the thick carpet, the twin marble bathrooms, and the living room filled with fresh roses and lilies. This larger suite had an inner sleeping chamber, and Scarlett looked relieved. “This will do,” he said, and thanked the manager.
Her personal effects were delivered shortly afterward. “Don’t you feel like a real celebrity now?” he asked.
“I can’t imagine having to live like that, traveling under assumed names and all.” Scarlett shuddered. “No privacy at all. Stalkers, threats…”
“Yeah, and people shooting at them,” he added wryly. In Beverly Hills, Johnny had observed both the perks and the limitations famous people had in their daily lives. He liked his life just fine, anonymity and all. “Be honest, Scarlett. Any idea who’s trying to kill you? Or does Marsh & Gold knock off associates who don’t make partner?”
“That’s usually not the case.” She drew her hands over her face. “David was trying to talk to me before he left this morning. He was disturbed. He said something about a call before Lucan arrived on the scene, and then he clammed up.” She picked up her phone and checked the time. “They haven’t landed yet. I’ll send him an email.”
“No, don’t email.” Johnny didn’t know why he said that, but he didn’t have a good feeling about the firm she worked for. When she told him the New York office called the Los Angeles office the wild west, he’d had an uneasy feeling, even then.
Scarlett stared at him, but after a moment, she nodded and put her phone down. The smooth skin over her high cheekbones flushed pink.
“Who at the office might have wanted to harm you?”
“I can’t imagine. No one is perfect there,” she said, arching a fine eyebrow. “But there aren’t any wild, axe murderer attorneys roaming the halls.” Scarlett fell silent.
“What, that’s just your clients?”
A smile tugged at a corner of her mouth. “We’re lawyers. We agree to disagree. We fight for our clients.”
The telephone on the desk rang, and Johnny answered it. After he hung up, he said, “That was the manager. Unless you want to go out and try to find a crazed maniac tonight, let’s stay in. They’d like to send up dinner, along with a massage therapist and a bottle of champagne.” Johnny picked up the room service menu. Scarlett needed to eat something.
She rubbed her arms. “First dibs on the massage. You can have the bubbly.”
“I’ll take that deal. I can sure use a soothing tonic. Hmm, Dom Pérignon, or Perrier-Jouët Rosé?” He flipped open the room service menu and ran his finger down the page. “Let’s see, we can order from the Goya restaurant. For starters, how about the tuna tartar with caviar and papaya vinaigrette? Then there’s the oxtail ravioli—you might like that—or the sea hake loin with Iberian vinaigrette.”
“Johnny?”
“Yes, Scarlett?”
She sipped her tea. “I heard you call me your girlfriend over the phone.”
His heart quickened. “Did you? Well, you’ll always be my girlfriend, chica.” And to prove it, he dropped the menu on the table, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her. She was still trembling. He tightened his arms to convey his protection. “I was so worried about you, Scarlett.”
“I could never have imagined anything like that,” she said, her voice cracking as the adrenaline drained from her. “I thought I was going to die.”
Johnny couldn’t hold back anymore; his eyes welled with emotion. Scarlett arched her neck and gazed at him, her eyes glistening in the soft light of the chandelier above. “Oh, Scarlett, mi corazon,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers.
Scarlett hesitated at first, and then responded with sweet tentativeness. To him, it was a moment he’d waited a lifetime for, and he was swept away on the soft fullness of her lips. She relaxed in his arms for a moment, and then took a half-step back, a smile playing on her lips.
“I should take a bath,” she said, her eyes never leaving his. She moistened her lips.
“And I’ll order dinner. I think I know what you like.”
“I think you do.” She disappeared into one of the bathrooms and closed the door.
Johnny whirled around and clenched his fist. Yes, he thought to himself. Snipers be damned. He ran a finger across his lips and closed his eyes.
11
SCARLETT AWOKE WRAPPED in Johnny’s arms, the same way she’d fallen asleep. With his warm, muscular body curving around hers, she felt cosseted in love and luxury, despite the frightening events of the evening before.
As she shifted in a bed that cushioned every inch of her body, silky cotton sheets slipped from her shoulder. Johnny nuzzled her bare skin, dragging his lips across her shoulder. Never before had she felt such a sense of belonging, and it was truly an awakening for her.
Could a brush with death do that to a person?
She ran a hand down the satin gown that covered her thigh. Her fingers brushed Johnny’s leg, which was draped over her leg. She loved the feeling of being tangled in his limbs.
Gazing at the chandelier above, ensconced in a muted world of opulence, it almost seemed as if last night had never occurred, that shots had never rang out over her head. But it had happened, and Scarlett knew that it hadn’t been an accident.
Lucan had been so keen to have her stay the weekend at the Ritz. And yet, that was such easy assumption to make. Lucan was a smart, shrewd man. If he were the culprit, would he have been so obvious? Especially with David as a witness?
And why?
She thought of Fleur and the video, and the dramatic stock gyrations her decision had caused. Seismic price swings meant profits for those who shorted stocks, traded options, or bought and sold at opportune times. Magnify stock prices by tens of thousands, and millions might be made overnight.
Might that be worth killing for?
Johnny slid his leg over her gown. “Buenos días, mi corazon.”
Corazon. Spanish had the loveliest terms of endearment. She loved the romance and feeling of the language of her childhood. “Buenos días, mi corazon, mi cariño.” My heart, my darling. From the moment bullets had ripped through the surface of their relationship, their feelings for one another had burst through, as if freed from chains around their hearts.
They hadn’t made love last night, but they had expressed the depth of their feelings in ways she’d never known existed. From the touch of his hand, the heat of his breath, the scent of his skin…her senses had been fully aroused.
The harrowing events had emotionally drained her, and after her in-room massage she’d been physically and mentally spent. Johnny had been so protective of her, treating her as if she were made of porcelain. But she was a woman with desires. Fortunately, that night Johnny had invaded her dreams with infinite sweetness.
And God willing, she would live another day. She turned to him.
Johnny trailed a finger along her neck, pausing to circle the tender hollow where her collarbone began. “I could stay here all day with you, but I think we should leave.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t want you to be target practice again for some crazy shooter.”
“It’s time we left.” She stretched, and Johnny cast an appreciative glance over her body.
“Let’s rent a car and drive to Cádiz as we’d planned.” He frowned. “Does anyone at the firm know you’re travelling there?”
“Only Mamá.”
“Good.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I think we can trust Isabel.”
While she dressed, she heard him call the concierge and order breakfast. Johnny was certainly at home in a hotel, she mused. But then, he worked at an exclusive hotel and was not easily impressed.
They ate and checked out of the Ritz, and Scarlett thought the staff was relieved to see them leave. Near the hotel, Johnny arranged a rental car.
“Andalucía, here we come.” Johnny opened her door and helped her in.
Scarlett settled into the Citroën convertible. She was looking forward to their journey through the southern part of Spain. Her mother had told her she had family throughout the region, from Seville to Cádiz, Granada to Málaga. She didn’t know how many areas in Andalusia they could visit, but she definitely planned to return with her mother as soon as she could. Johnny got in behind the wheel.
Scarlett said, “I have distant relatives scattered all over Spain, but Mamá asked that I visit her cousin Teresa in Cádiz.”
“Any family of yours I’d love to meet, Scarlett. Su familia es mi familia.”
“Careful, I don’t know if I’d take it that far,” she said with a mock grimace. “You might not want my family as yours. I don’t really know them. I haven’t seen them since I was a preschooler.”
Johnny turned the ignition while Scarlett unfolded a map she’d bought while he was renting the car. He steered through Madrid, glancing in his rear view mirror often to make sure they weren’t being followed. Once they were out of Madrid and onto the open road, they both breathed easier.
Johnny, satisfied that they had not been followed, pulled over and put the top down, opening up the car to the outdoors. Fluffy clouds floated in azure skies overhead. He eased back onto the road.
As they drove on, Scarlett followed their progress on the map. Johnny watched her wrangling the large map with amusement.
“That’s sure old-school,” he said. “Thought you were the kind of girl who only navigated on a cell phone.” He punched a button for the built-in navigation system, but the digital display froze. “Aw, geez. Look at this.” He fiddled with the buttons. “It’s not working. Let’s use your phone.”
Scarlett threw him a quick glance. “It’s off.”
“You? Without a phone? I don’t know whether to be awed, impressed, or check you in for psychiatric evaluation. Come on, tell me what’s wrong.” He squinted at her. “Is it a client, or someone at the office?”
“First, you know I can’t divulge privileged client interactions.”
“I respect that. Unless they start taking shots at you.” He grimaced. “Then you might want to reconsider that professional relationship.”
“I don’t think it was a client. And remember, I took an oath to practice law.”
“Yeah, and I unloaded a few oaths last night, too.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. What’s an oath if you’re a dead lawyer? Scarlett, you have to tell me what’s going on. You don’t turn on your mobile phone, so that tells me that you’re afraid of being tracked.”
“Good deduction, Sherlock. Actually, the battery died last night.”
“And you didn’t recharge it this morning?” He shook his head. “Someone was intent on taking you out last night. I’m sitting beside you in the line of fire, so don’t you think I have a right to know what’s happening?”
He had a point. “I thought it could wait until after I returned.” She bowed her head. Without breaching client privileges, she told him about seeing Fleur on CNBC,
and the miraculous disappearance of her busted lip.
Johnny listened, taking it all in. “So you think she made the video before she met with High Gloss.”
“That’s right. I’m sure of it. I had the video analyzed. Her face showed absolutely no sign of injury or swelling of any kind.”
“Then she sabotaged the deal. Why?”
Scarlett went on to tell him of her suspicions about possible stock manipulations and insider trading.
Johnny let out a whistle. “Who did you tell about this?”
“I mentioned the news clip of Fleur to David, though I didn’t have confirmation then. And that’s public knowledge. It was on the news.” She drew her eyebrows together. “I also said someone could’ve made some serious money on that information.”
“When did you tell him that?”
“Before we left. We were at the office, in the conference room—” Scarlett stopped and bit her lip. Could their conversation have been recorded?
“Is it possible someone overheard your conversation?”
“The main conference room is equipped with a recording device for board meetings. I didn’t think it was used much anymore. We were in a small meeting room. I guess it’s possible it might have been recorded, or someone listened in.” She didn’t think David would have repeated the conversation.
“Sounds like someone thinks you’re onto them. Who do you think it might be?”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Lucan is too smart to be that obvious.”
“What about the other partners?”
This might be more involved than she’d realized. “I need to speak to someone when I return,” she said quietly, thinking about Zelda. Inwardly, she was shaken. What had she stumbled into? “If they’re technologically savvy, then my phone could be used to broadcast my location. I don’t want that to happen.”
“Scarlett, if that’s your concern, I’m pretty sure the technology exists to find your phone without it being on.”
Scarlett sucked in her breath. He was right. She shoved her hand into her purse, grabbed her phone, and tossed it from the car as they careened down the motorway. She watched it soar through the air and land in a field of cattle, which were lolling in clover and barely noticed a thing.
