Gray Wolf Security: Back Home

by Glenna Sinclair

  The girl paled and I felt a little bad for what I’d said. She was clearly only trying to do her job. But I was only trying to do my job, too, and the fewer people who knew why I was there and saw the fancy equipment, the better.

  I gestured to the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. “If you would just respect this—”

  “It is our policy to clean these rooms daily. The DND cards are respected. We modify our services in respect, but—”

  “I know. It’s your policy.”

  She nodded. “I just want to straighten up the bathroom and take the dirty towels.”

  “And I’d rather you didn’t. Please go.”

  She sighed, but didn’t argue further. She turned on her heel and walked away. It was only then that I noticed she hadn’t even brought her cart over to my side of the hall. While I watched, she knocked on Alison’s door even though she also had her Do Not Disturb placard on the door. And, as I watched, she let herself in with a specially formatted card key.

  I quickly closed my own door and rushed back to the monitors, watching the maid as she went straight to the bathroom, disappeared for a few moments, and left again with a handful of dirty towels draped over her arms. She returned to exchange the dirties with clean towels, sending a fleeting glance toward the passed out body of Alison on the couch, then left without touching anything else.

  Again, I felt bad. I would have liked fresh towels and a clean bathroom, but Joss had made herself very clear: no one but me was to be in this room for any reason.

  I was trying to be a well-behaved employee.

  A little less than an hour later, there was another knock on the door. I groaned, annoyed that my relatively easy day was turning into a circus. Alison was still asleep—I could see her chest moving, so I knew she was okay despite the deep slumber—giving me a chance to spend a little time perusing Facebook and the other social media platforms I rarely had time to indulge in. These interruptions were quite annoying.

  Until I opened the door and found hot guy from the pool staring back at me.

  I think he was just as surprised to see me as I was him. His eyes widened slightly even though he managed to keep that distant observer expression on his face.

  He was intensely handsome, I noticed, as I took in his form. Dark eyes that were fringed with long, thick lashes that any woman would envy. A wide jaw covered with the hint of a five o’clock shadow. A narrow nose. Thick, wavy, dark hair. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the kind of masculine body that looked good in an expensive suit, but gorgeous in casual wear. He made me want to suck in my breath every time those perfect eyes moved over my face.

  “I apologize for disturbing you, ma’am.”

  I leaned against the doorjamb as much for physical support as an attempt to look undisturbed. Those eyes…my knees were weak!

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I am Malik Bailey,” he said, offering me a business card. “I am the hotel’s assistant manager in charge of housekeeping.”

  I took the card, but my heart sank a little when he said housekeeping. “Is this about the maid?”

  “It is. She says you refuse to allow her into the room.”

  “Most hotels would be happy not to have to clean an occupied guest room. Isn’t that why they have Do Not Disturb placards?”

  “Yes, well, this hotel has a specific policy when it comes to the suites on the tenth floor.”

  “Only the tenth floor?”

  “I’m sure you understand. These rooms are reserved for VIP guests. We like to extend a certain courtesy to these guests that includes a more attentive housekeeping service.”

  “Or maybe you just like to see the inside of the suites from time to time to make sure I’m not running off with the crystal.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “I assure you, we are not accusing you of anything.”

  I laughed because he looked so shocked by the mere suggestion. But I wasn’t surprised by the level of snobbery. I’d stayed at a lot of places like this one when I was a kid, stuck living the lifestyle my parents chose for themselves. I knew how people like him thought. If I could afford to stay in this room—which he assumed by my presence here, not by the actual balance in my pathetic banking account—then I should accept, even appreciate, the extra care he wanted to extend to me. The idea that there was an ulterior motive was never supposed to cross my mind.

  But I’d been there, done that. I knew what he was up to.

  I liked the bemused look on his face, though. It made him even more appealing, if that was possible.

  And the idea of watching him clean my bathroom was kind of exciting all on its own.

  “If I let you in here, will you promise not to send that other maid up here anymore?”

  “Is there something Louisa has done to offend you?”

  “No. I’d just prefer not to have a bunch of minimum wage employees digging through my things.”

  That wasn’t my real motivation, of course, but I knew it was one he would accept from someone like me.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “I will do the work myself if you’ll allow me in your room each morning.”

  “Every other morning.” I smiled sweetly. “I’m not that messy.”

  He inclined his head. “Agreed.” He took a step forward as though he expected to come into the suite at that moment. I moved to hold up my hand, ending up with my palm pressed to the center of his chest, that silk tie soft as a baby’s ass against my skin.

  “You have to give me a minute.”

  “Is there something the matter?”

  “Don’t you need supplies?”

  He looked at me, his eyes darkened by something—puzzlement, maybe—as he caressed my face with his gaze. He didn’t step back, didn’t try to remove my hand in any way. He just stood there as though trying to work out a great mystery.

  “Just give me a minute,” I repeated, stepping back and slamming the door before he could force his way inside. I had to take a second, lean against the door, and catch my breath.

  Damn! When had I last met a man like him?

  But then I caught sight of the bank of monitors in the dining alcove and remembered why I was supposed to be revisiting this guy in the first place. Thinking quickly, I went into the bedroom and dug out the spare blanket the hotel had provided from where it was folded on a shelf in the closet. It was a little heavier than I would have liked, but it would do the trick for the ten minutes he’d be in here.

  I shook the blanket out and draped it carefully over the monitors and computers and various equipment that was set up there, walking around the table to be sure it covered everything but the multitude of wires I couldn’t quite hide.

  When I opened the door again, he’d dragged a maid’s cart over and was looking through it for whatever supplies he felt like he needed.

  I’d only been joking about the supplies.

  “I just need a few clean towels.”

  He glanced up at me. “I’ll need to take out the trash and wipe down the bathroom sink.”

  “It’s really not necessary. Like I told you, I’m not a messy person.”

  He tilted his head slightly as he regarded me. “Even the neatest person in the world makes a small mess in the bathroom. It’ll only take a second and then I’ll be out of your way.”

  He picked up a few bottles and a rag before brushing past me to enter the suite. He was close enough to me that I could smell his cologne, some expensive scent with a hint of cedar in it. I liked it.

  “You sure you want to work with harsh chemicals in that suit. It looks expensive.”

  “Not as expensive as it appears.”

  I followed him into my bedroom, wishing I’d thought to pull the blankets up over the unmade mess. He didn’t seem to notice it, however, bypassing the bed for the bathroom door. He immediately set about spraying the contents of one of his bottles across the marble-topped sink. I stood to one side, watching as he moved around the room, wiping the counter, gathering the
trash, swiping a dirty towel over the wet floor. I was a little embarrassed that the room was in worse condition than I’d recalled, but more drawn to the movement of his body, a part of me wishing there was more for him to clean up.

  “Actually, while I’m thinking about it, do you think I could get clean sheets for the bed?”

  “Of course.”

  He didn’t look at me as he exited the suite to drop off the dirty towels and exchange them for a stack of clean ones. Then he made the trek again, returning with clean sheets. He slipped off his suit jacket, revealing ripped muscles in his arms and across his chest. I stood with my back to the wall and watched him as he moved around the most intimate piece of furniture in my room. He was quick. Efficient. And he put on quite a show with that tight ass showing itself off each time he bent low to tuck a sheet.

  “I can see why you’re the boss.”

  He glanced at me, those dark eyes smoldering under his impressive lashes. “I hope it’s to your standards, ma’am.”

  “Oh, please don’t call me ma’am! That’s for old women and mothers.”

  “What shall I call you?”

  “Shaw.”

  “Okay. I hope it’s to your standards, Ms. Shaw.”

  “Not Ms. Shaw. Just Shaw.”

  “Shaw is your first name?”

  “It is.”

  “What, may I ask, is your full name?”

  I tilted my head slightly. “Why? You can’t just call me by my first name? What if I were Cher or Madonna or someone like that?”

  “If you were Cher, I would respectfully call you by whatever name you chose to register under.”

  “Then you may go check the registration records and find out what I should be called. In the meantime, you can call me Shaw.”

  He inclined his head, practically clicking his heels together as he gathered the dirty laundry and headed for the door. I wasn’t quite ready for him to go, but I couldn’t think of another chore that might keep him occupied. He did, however.

  “You might like a lighter piece of cloth for whatever you’re hiding over there,” he said, gesturing almost nonchalantly at the dining table with its heavy blanket and lumps of computer equipment. “You wouldn’t want something to overheat.”

  I thought quickly. “It’s a project I’m working on. I’m not ready for anyone to see it.”

  “Of course.” He retreated to his cart and returned a moment later with a thin, king-sized sheet. He handed it politely to me before ducking into the bedroom to retrieve his suit jacket. “I shall get out of your way now.”

  “English isn’t your first language, is it?”

  He paused in the doorway, turning to regard me with caution in his expression. “What makes you say that?”

  “Even the best families don’t produce as polite or respectful speakers as you. Your language is quite…I don’t know. Chivalrous? Antiquated?”

  “And that suggests to you that I’m not American?”

  I shrugged. “You remind me of a man I met once. Maybe that’s why.”

  “Who would that be?”

  I looked him over for a moment, telling myself I was being stupid. The man I had in mind was thousands of miles away, a man of great power and wealth who hated Americans with an anger that I could almost sympathize with despite my allegiance to the Marines and the country we represented. Who wouldn’t hate the superpower they saw as the invaders of their country?

  I shook my head. “You couldn’t be related to him. But you do resemble him a little. Your mannerisms and your speech patterns…but I suppose that’s just coincidence.”

  He bowed his head, again doing that thing that brought to mind genies on old television shows. I expected him to knock his heels together and clap, but he didn’t. Instead, he raised his eyes to me, letting them move slowly over the length of my body before slowly focusing on my face.

  “I shall return to clean your room the day after tomorrow, Ms. Shaw.”

  “Just Shaw.”

  He smiled politely. “Just Shaw.” He inclined his head again, then took his leave, backing out of the room so that his eyes lingered on mine until the door was closed. I bit my lip, a part of me eager to chase after him, to beg him not to go. But then I had to fall into a chair because my knees were weak once again.

  I sat there for a long few moments, but then an alarm began to sound on one of my monitors, indicating movement in Alison’s room.

  Time to get back to work.

  Damn it!

  Chapter 6

  Malik

  I stood at the bar, waiting for the completion of my meal order. I was normally home by seven, sitting in my quiet dining room with a proper meal set in front of me, but I was running late tonight because of a series of ridiculous meetings with upper management. They thought they could improve the customer relations of the hotel by holding us all hostage once a month in pointless meetings that accomplished absolutely nothing. When I owned my own establishment that would be the first thing I would strike from protocol.

  I heard a familiar voice and it caused me to turn. The blonde…Shaw Easton, according to the hotel’s records. She was at a table some yards away from where I stood, kneeling beside her redheaded companion, whispering furiously into her ear. The redhead appeared to be inebriated, a condition to which she seemed to be prone. Louisa had informed me that she was more often than not passed out in her room whenever she stopped by to clean. It made me wonder what someone who seemed to have her shit together was doing spending so much time with that woman.

  “Alison? We really should head upstairs,” I heard her say, but her companion just grunted as she reached for a fresh drink sitting on the table. The drink spilled, as seemed inevitable with someone so drunk. Shaw jumped back a little, but the drink still managed to splash across her simple silk blouse and onto her trousers.

  “Damn it!” she cried, falling onto her hip as she lost her balance. “Alison! You’re making a mess!”

  “Sorry,” the redhead murmured, reaching over to grab a handful of napkins that were also sitting on the table, dragging the sleeve of her blouse through the puddle of gin that had formed on the tabletop.

  I leaned over the bar and grabbed a rag from a stack I knew was on a shelf there. I crossed over and handed it to Shaw while using the now damp stack of napkins to wipe up the table. The redhead smiled brightly up at me, a smile that barely made it to the cloud of booze that was floating in her eyes.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” she said with a smile that made me quite uncomfortable. “I was hoping we’d run into you again.”

  “Mrs. Michaels,” I replied as politely as I could, “it is lovely to see you again as well.”

  “You know my name?” She straightened in her seat, her body leaning strangely to one side. “Do you recognize it? Do you know my husband?”

  “Alison…” Shaw warned.

  “What? I can’t ask him a question?”

  “I thought we agreed not to talk about your husband tonight?”

  “How am I supposed to not talk about him?” she demanded. “He’s the whole fucking reason why I’m here! If he hadn’t gone and got himself busted—”

  “Alison!” Shaw pulled herself to her feet and grabbed her companion’s arm. “We should really get you upstairs. We can finish this party there.”

  “I don’t want to go upstairs. I want to dance. Don’t you want to dance?”

  She was speaking to me, not Shaw. She pushed Shaw out of the way and fell into my arms, wrapping her own arms around my neck like we’d been lovers for years. I glanced at Shaw, a little panic building in my chest until I saw the desperation in Shaw’s eyes. Then I realized how important it was to her to quiet Alison down and get her upstairs.

  “Why don’t we go to your suite and see what kind of trouble we can get into up there, shall we?”

  Alison smiled, her hand brushing the side of my face. She smelled like the bottom of a gin bottle that had been vomited on and then doused in perfume to hide the smell. It was
not a pleasant experience.

  I turned her, half walking her, half dragging her to the elevators. Shaw followed, pausing at the bar long enough to quickly settle their bill. Then she was helping me, sliding her arm around Alison’s narrow waist, her hand tucked warmly against my side. Together we managed to get Alison on the elevator and behind the closed doors before she turned into my arms again and began to kiss my neck.

  “I think you are the best looking man I’ve ever met,” she said, a little giggle slipping from between her lips. “You can come clean my suite whenever you like.”

  I glanced at Shaw. She didn’t look pleased, but she also didn’t appear eager to do anything to stop what was happening. In fact, her eyes dropped to the floor as Alison’s fingers began playing over my chest.

  “Mrs. Michaels,” I said as I firmly wrapped my hands around her wrists, “I’d be more than happy to clean your suite, but I think, tonight, other things are in order.”

  Real excitement came into her eyes as I turned her and pressed her hard against the back wall of the elevator. But I had no intention of touching her; I was simply trying to keep her hands off me. I was not the kind of man who would take advantage of a drunk woman—a woman who would be unlikely to recall my touch in the morning—and one who was not entirely my type.

  “I bet you’re a tiger in the bedroom,” she said as she licked her bottom lip.

  “And I bet you could make the right man very happy.”

  She tried to break free of my hold on her, but then something like panic came into her eyes. Just as the elevator doors opened on the tenth floor, she bent over and vomited gin scented liquid all over the cuff of my slacks. I blinked before letting out an inaudible sigh.

  Just how I wanted to spend my evening!

  Alison collapsed and I managed to catch her. Shaw led the way down the hall to the door of Alison’s suite, using a keycard she’d taken from her own pocket to open the door. I lay Alison on her bed, making sure she rested on her side so that she would not aspirate if she should vomit again. The woman was unconscious and would likely remain that way for the rest of the night.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” Shaw said apologetically as I strode out to the living room and lifted the phone to call the night supervisor in my own office.