by Cynthia Eden
He stuck the point of the knife under one edge of the camera and worked it free. Pinching the small device between two fingers, he covered the lens side of the camera—the side that had been pointing into his room, recording him and Sophia in bed.
He placed it on the carpet and ground the heel of his boot against it. “Show over, assholes.”
He left the mangled device on the floor for the maid to vacuum it up.
“Excuse me? I didn’t think anyone was in here.” The maid stood in the doorway of the bathroom with some towels in her arms and a perplexed expression on her face.
Austin pocketed his knife and withdrew his card key. He held it up. “Forgot something.”
He breezed past her and out the door, squeezing past the cart. “Done. Let’s get out of here.”
He opened the door of their own room and flipped around the do-not-disturb sign on the handle. “How fast can you pack?”
“A matter of minutes. I’ve had lots of practice what with moving from one foster home to another.”
“Good.” He closed down his laptop and retrieved his rifle case from the closet.
Within thirty minutes, they’d packed their stuff, checked out of the hotel and were sitting in his rental. “My handlers almost booked me in a hotel near the harbor. I’d say that’s a good second choice.”
“That’s closer to the Kennedy Library, the location of the symposium.”
He entered the hotel name in the car’s GPS. “I wish we had more information about what’s going down there. Blind security can only do so much.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.”
“Me, too—a lot.” He pulled out of the hotel’s parking structure and tapped Start on the GPS.
“Boston’s Kids is one of the symposium’s hosts.”
“You mentioned you knew about that group.”
“I used to volunteer for that group. If Rick Stansfield is still the director, I might have an in.”
“An in?” He hit the brakes harder than he’d planned and the car lurched at the red light.
“One of the articles mentioned a fund-raising party prior to the meetings. I think I can get us an invitation.”
This time he slammed the brakes. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not.” She tucked her hair behind one ear. “Of course, I no longer have my cell phone, but I can get Rick’s number and give him a call.”
“If there’s going to be some kind of attack at that event, you need to be as far away from it as possible.”
“Not if I can help prevent it. Do you know how devastating it would be for those organizations if there was some kind of terrorist attack at a symposium they’re hosting?”
“I get it.” He took her hand and toyed with her fingers. “But do you realize how devastated I’d be if something happened to you at that symposium?”
“You said it yourself. Security will be tight, and I’ve got the best security of all.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.
“I don’t know if I could ever get clearance for something like this.”
“I don’t need clearance from the US government to attend a party hosted by an organization I’ve worked with in the past and for which I have an invitation.”
“You may not need the go-ahead, but the security agencies overseeing this little exercise of mine are just about ready to throw in the towel on you after I told them you’re insisting on attending Dr. Fazal’s memorial tomorrow.”
“Even better. Let them give up on me, which will free me up even further to do what I want.”
“You may not have anyone to report to, but I still do.”
“Then tell them you’ll be attending the event as backup security. It’ll be easier for you to get your weapon through, and believe me, I’d feel a whole lot better about being there if you’re armed.”
“I can try to do that. Call your friend when we get to the new hotel.”
Once they checked in and got to the room, Austin tossed his phone onto the bed. “Knock yourself out.”
“I’m going to find him on my laptop first. Since I can’t get his cell phone number from my phone, I’ll have to call the organization instead.”
She clicked away on her keyboard while he stretched out on the bed. Had she noticed he hadn’t requested two double beds in the room? He’d barely gotten started with her last night before he discovered they were making an unintentional sex tape. Was it wrong for him to wish he could see that video? It just might get him through some long nights ahead once he’d left her.
And he’d have to leave her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sophia glanced at Austin sprawled on the bed as she brought up the website for Boston’s Kids. The crease between his eyebrows concerned her. Did he think they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, or did he think they wouldn’t be allowed to?
She didn’t know much about the military, but she did know a soldier had to follow orders. If his superiors wouldn’t allow him near the gala for the symposium, Austin had to know she’d go, anyway. Was that what had him worried?
“Rick is still here.” The cursor hovered over his contact information. “Can I call him from your phone?”
“Sure.” He nudged the phone to the edge of the bed with his foot, and she leaned back in her chair to grab it. She entered Rick’s number at the foundation and got a receptionist. They must be doing well.
“Can I speak to Rick Stansfield, please? Tell him it’s Sophia Grant.”
“One moment, Ms. Grant. I’ll see if he’s in.”
She held up the phone to Austin and pushed the button on the side for the speaker, and he muted the TV.
A few seconds later, Rick’s voice boomed over the phone. He never faked the hearty tone he used with the kids. Rick was the real deal. “How’s my favorite volunteer? We sure miss you over here.”
“I miss you guys, too. I’ve been busy with school.”
“And the work continues. Good for you. Are you calling to join our ranks again?”
“Actually, I saw something in the paper about a symposium you’re jointly sponsoring to discuss at-risk youth, and was wondering if I could buy a ticket to the gala to show my support.”
“This symposium’s a little different from what we usually do, since the focus is turning young people away from extremist organizations, but because of our work with kids and street gangs, we figured we’d have something to offer.”
“Oh, I think you do.”
“The gala is invitation only, and the tickets are a thousand apiece. I can send you an invite, but I can’t waive or reduce the ticket price—even for you.”
She raised her brows at Austin and he nodded.
“I’m not asking you to. If you can take care of the invitations, I’ll handle the ticket price—and I need two.”
“I can have two tickets waiting for you at the office tomorrow, although unfortunately, I won’t be in to see you.”
“That’s fine. Give me the details, and I’ll come by tomorrow to pick them up.”
Rick gave her the name of the contact person at the office and the payment methods. “I look forward to seeing you at the gala, Sophia, and I hope you can come back to volunteer for what you’re really good at—talking some sense into these girls.”
“I will, Rick. Thanks.” She ended the call and lobbed the phone back at Austin. “Can you clear that with someone?”
“I’ll try.” He reached for the phone and made his own call as he rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
No listening in on speakerphone for her. As he started talking he slammed the bathroom door behind him. No listening at all.
She paced near the door a few times and heard Austin’s voice, low but urgent. She gave up and fell across the bed,
turning up the TV. He’d tell her what he thought she should know. He hadn’t been wrong yet.
When he came out of the bathroom, she jerked her head toward him. “Well?”
“Memorial first. You’ll be attending on your own.”
A shiver snaked down her spine. The US spy agencies really were washing their hands of her.
“But—” he held up his index finger “—there will be personnel there on the perimeter, taking pictures and running ID’s. You just won’t know who or where they are, and I’ll be there, just not with you.”
She blew out a breath. “That’s a relief. Where will you be?”
“I’m not going to tell you exactly because I don’t want you looking for me, but I’ll be watching the crowd—and you. I don’t have to tell you not to talk to any strangers, right? A limo will take you there—one with very dark tinted windows—and pick you up right at the curb. We lucked out that the memorial is at a park, which gives us good access. While you’re giving your speech, if you hear anything unusual—popping noises, blasts—hit the deck.”
“Got it. And the gala?”
“We’re both attending, unless something happens at the memorial. That one was harder to sell. If there’s going to be an attack there, the agency isn’t sure how your presence is going to change that or help. I’m not sure.”
“I was close to Dr. Fazal. That’s why you picked me out in the first place, isn’t it? I didn’t ask for this. You hid out in my car and ambushed me.” She held up her hands. “I’m not saying it didn’t work out, as I probably would’ve been kidnapped that night if you hadn’t.”
“Maybe it will be over at the memorial.” He rubbed his chin. “For the gala, additional security will be there, and they’ll pass me through with my weapon.”
“Not the big huge one that hangs over your shoulder?”
“Not that one.”
“Good, because that one won’t go at all with your tux.”
“Tux?”
“The event is formal.”
He smacked his head. “Great. If I wasn’t going to have enough headaches at that party, wearing a tux just sealed the deal.”
“Speaking of clothes, any chance I can return to my place to pick up a dress? I didn’t think I needed to pack anything formal while I was on the run.”
“Buy a new dress tomorrow when I’m out renting my tux…if nothing happens at the memorial first.”
She craned her neck to peer around him at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “We probably have enough time to go out now before anything closes, so we don’t have to rush tomorrow.”
“You up for it?”
“This has actually been a calm day compared to all the other days since you dropped into my life.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She launched out of the chair. “I’m kind of an adrenaline junkie, always have been. I’m not going to wilt under pressure.”
“I noticed.” He planted his feet on the floor. “Do you want to look up a few places on your laptop?”
“There’s a mall nearby. I’m sure you can rent a tux there, and I’m pretty sure there are a couple of major department stores where I can find a long dress for the gala. It’s not going to be haute couture but I don’t wear haute couture, anyway.”
“And I wouldn’t know haute couture if it came up and bit my backside.”
Her gaze dropped to that backside as Austin bent over his suitcase. “I’m going to put on a white T-shirt, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
He yanked off his long-sleeved T-shirt and pulled the white one over his head. Then he buttoned a denim shirt over it. His eyes met hers. “What?”
“How many hours a day do you work out to get a body like that?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “It’s part of my job. We have to be in peak physical condition for what we do.”
“You are.”
“Thanks… I think.”
“Oh, believe me. I’m paying you a compliment.”
“I’ll take it.” He snatched his jacket from the hook by the door and checked the pocket.
Must be checking for his gun. The guy never let his guard down—but she wasn’t complaining. She just didn’t know how she was going to do without her personal bodyguard when this was all over.
It took them less than fifteen minutes to get to the shopping center. As they crossed a bridge from the parking structure to the mall, she said, “I almost feel safer in a big public place like this than hiding out in a hotel room.”
“We should be safe here. They’re not going to expect us to be out shopping.”
“Maybe I can find a new frame for my picture while we’re here. I think it’s just a standard five by seven.”
“I’d suggest splitting up to save time, but I don’t want to leave you on your own—even in a place like this.”
“Let’s get your tux first. Hopefully, they can get your measurements and have something ready for you by the day after tomorrow, the morning of the event. If we get my dress first, we’ll have to lug it around.”
“Sold.”
Austin went with basic black with a black silk vest. He also rented a pair of shoes, and when the measuring was done, he told the clerk he’d pick up everything in two days.
He brushed his hands together as they walked out. “Your turn.”
“Wait.” She pointed ahead at a stationery and gift shop. “I can probably find a frame in there.”
It took her less than ten minutes to find a frame to fit the picture of her and Dr. Fazal. If only a life could be replaced as easily.
“How are we doing on time?”
“We’re fine. Most of the stores close at nine o’clock. You don’t have to rush.”
“It’s just a dress for one night, but I’d better buy something I can wear a few more times.”
“I’m buying the dress for you.”
“Is that going to be a business expense, too?”
“Of course.”
She didn’t believe him for a minute, but she’d settle up their debts later—her debts. How did you repay a man for saving your life, for keeping you safe?
They entered the store through the women’s shoe department, and Sophia snapped her fingers. “I’m going to have to get some shoes, too. Is that in the US government’s spy budget?”
“It’s the line item right below bullets.”
When they got to the racks of long, sparkly dresses, Austin ran his fingers across one row and whistled. “Fancy.”
“I’m not crazy about ribbons, bows and sequins, just something simple.”
“Something red. You look good in red.”
“All of a sudden you’ve become a fashion consultant?”
“As they say, I just know what I like. And I like you in red.” He pulled her close and touched her ear with his lips. “And nothing at all.”
Her cheeks burned probably as red as one of those dresses he wanted her to buy. The brightly lit department store gave his intimate comment an erotic edge, which was heightened by the devilish glint in his green eyes, as if he could undress her here and now.
She punched his arm. “Behave yourself.”
She staggered into the dressing room under the weight of several dresses and hung them up on one side of the mirror. She smoothed her hands over her face as she looked at her reflection. Usually she steered clear of bossy men—and Austin was definitely of the bossy variety.
She didn’t mind it in him though. Must be because he listened to her, really listened to her, about the important stuff. She didn’t even want to know what he’d said to his superiors to convince them to allow the two of them to attend the symposium gala.
Of course, those spy agencies he reported to didn’t have any contro
l over her actions, but if they’d refused to allow him to attend to protect her, maybe she would’ve had to give up the whole idea. Or maybe not.
She wanted an end to this madness, even if it meant an end to her relationship—or whatever she had—with Austin.
She grabbed the first red dress and undid the side zipper, stepping into it. She pulled up the strapless bodice, wriggled her hips into the rest of it and zipped it up.
Smoothing the silky material over her thighs, she adjusted the slit in the skirt to open down one leg. She stood on her tiptoes and turned from side to side. A little more body conscious than she was accustomed to wearing, but it deserved a vote.
She swept out of the dressing room, exposing a little leg and fluffing her hair behind her head. “What do you think, dahling?”
The way Austin’s jaw dropped gave her a thrill. “That’s it. That’s the one. You look like an old-time movie siren.”
She tripped and folded her arms across her décolletage. “I-is it too much?”
“Not from where I’m sitting. Let’s buy it.”
She left the rest of the dresses untested on the rack and Austin peeled off several bills to pay for the dress. Then he paid for a pair of heels, and her internal calculator racked up the expenses.
As they rode down the escalator, he put his hand on her back. “Do you need something for tomorrow, too?”
“The memorial? I have that covered.” She hugged the plastic bag containing the frame and rested her chin on the edge of it. Dr. Fazal’s death punched her in the gut all over again.
The drama surrounding his murder had been keeping her real feelings at bay. She was so busy escaping from bad guys and chasing down clues, she hadn’t properly mourned Dr. Fazal—and buying a red-hot dress with a red-hot navy SEAL didn’t feel proper at all.
Austin squeezed her shoulder as he steered her into the parking garage. “Are you okay?”
“I feel…guilty.”
“Because you forgot your worries and pain for an hour and enjoyed yourself shopping for a pretty dress?”
“Days after Dr. Fazal’s murder—and Ginny’s—I’m planning to go to a party. It just seems wrong.”
