“There’s no one here.” Tennyson joined her, slipping the gun back into his shoulder holster. “Did you figure out what was bothering you?”
Mallory shook her head, wishing she could shake the tension plaguing her. “I have no idea.”
“It’s safe to look around, if you need to. Kori, would you mind standing guard outside? I’ll debrief you on our plan of action a little later.”
Kori nodded and stepped outside.
Mallory tried to ignore the tremble in her hand as she reached for the wall to steady herself. Each step felt tentative. She didn’t want to miss anything.
She went through her room, detail by detail. There wasn’t as much as a wrinkle on the bedspread or a footprint in the neat lines where the carpet had been vacuumed.
She stood in the living room. The trash had been collected. There was nothing between the couch cushions. The fridge contained only the basics.
Everything appeared to be in place.
“I guess it was nothing,” she admitted.
But Mallory had felt so sure something was different.
“It’s been a long day,” Tennyson conceded.
“That’s probably it.” She looked up at him, her heart suddenly stuttering out of control. “I should probably turn in for the night. We leave in the morning for the next leg of the trip, after all.”
His intense gaze captured hers. “Probably a good idea.”
She slipped into her room and shut the door, her cheeks warm. Tennyson had an undeniable effect on her. She had to put an end to that. The last thing she needed right now was to be looking for a normal, settled down happy ever after. Her life didn’t lend itself to being that simple.
Maybe never would. Not after what had happened to her. What guy in his right mind would want to be with someone who’d been damaged as much as she had? No one, she realized. She had so much baggage that no one would be able to get past it all.
Besides, she’d always been defined by the men in her life. First her dad. Then Jason. Then Dante. She needed to stand on her own two feet. To prove—to herself and to everyone else—that she was more than arm candy. She had a lot to offer society, and no one was going to take that from her.
She hurried across the room, hoping a warm shower would clear her thoughts.
Before she could slip off her clothes, something on the bathroom counter caught her eye. It was between her foundation and lipstick. Something that seemed out of place to her, but that no one else would have noticed in the jumble of cosmetics.
She held her breath as she picked up the bottle there.
Perfume.
The same kind Dante had made her wear.
She vomited into the toilet beside her.
CHAPTER 12
Tennyson heard Mallory gasp and rushed into the room, fully expecting to encounter danger.
Instead he saw her crouched beside the toilet.
He put his hand on her back and waited while he scanned the room for a sign or clue of what had caused her reaction.
He saw nothing.
He wet a washcloth and handed it to her. She placed it over her mouth as she straightened.
When he saw her face, he noticed how pale she’d become. Something had shaken her.
“Mallory?” he asked quietly.
She nodded toward the counter. “Perfume,” she croaked.
He picked up the bottle. Perfume had upset her?
He raised it to his nose and took a sniff. Realization bolted through him. This was the same scent he’d noticed when he’d rescued her. Not her normal scent of fruit and flowers. No, this was the pungent odor of expensive perfume.
She hadn’t left this here.
Someone else had. Someone who’d wanted to send her a message.
Tennyson steeled himself against the anger bubbling inside him.
“No idea where this came from?”
She wiped away the moisture underneath her eyes and brought herself up to full height. “I have no idea.”
He frowned. “The rest of the place is clear. Let’s get you out of here while we wait for the police.”
Mallory didn’t argue as he led her back into the living room.
He tried not to let his concern show through too much. But how had someone gained access? How had someone known about the perfume? She hadn’t named it in her book or in any interviews he’d seen or read.
He waited until she was on the couch. She sat stiffly, almost robotically.
He knelt beside her, worried about her well-being. “Can I get you some water?”
She shook her head, her eyes still dull and her demeanor shell-shocked. “No thanks.”
“I’m going to get Kori to stay with you while I check out the suite again, okay?”
She nodded, and a couple of minutes later, Kori sat down beside her and began speaking in soft tones.
Tennyson couldn’t ignore how Mallory crossed her arms over her chest, almost like hugging herself. She was fighting to remain in control, he realized. It would be really easy for her thoughts to spiral into a pit of despair right now.
He hesitated before taking a step away. He didn’t want to leave her. But time was essential right now. He had to call the police. Wheaton. Grant.
He called people in that order. The police promised to come out. Wheaton promised to look into the situation. It was his call with Grant that surprised him. The man was downstairs meeting with more PR people.
“What?” Grant let out a grunt after Tennyson told him what had happened. “Don’t tell anyone. Let me handle this.”
Tennyson’s jaw hardened at his insensitive words. “It’s too late. I already did. The police are on their way.”
Grant muttered something underneath his breath. “You should have contacted me first.”
“You hired me to look out for her safety.” The argument seemed so futile at a time like this. This wasn’t a time for a power play.
“Do you know what a PR nightmare this is going to be?”
Anger flared inside Tennyson. How dare Grant think about the PR nightmare of this? Was that more of a concern to him than Mallory’s safety? He took a deep breath and calmed himself.
“Look, can we talk about this later?” he muttered. “Right now, we need to figure out who left this perfume. That’s the most important thing.”
Grant remained silent a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice had softened. “Of course. I’ll be right up.”
Tennyson wandered back over to Mallory, praying the anger inside him would smolder, and she wouldn’t be privy to his conversation with Grant. He sat beside her on the couch, soaking in her pale features. Kori sat on the other side of her, holding a glass of water.
Someone had wanted this. They’d wanted the shock value. Whoever was behind this could have tried to harm her or tried to snatch her. They hadn’t. Instead, they’d wanted to scare her.
But why?
Mallory’s perceptive gaze shifted up to him. “You and Grant were arguing.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does. You don’t like him. Why?”
He set his jaw as he tried to find the answer. “I question his motives.”
“You think he’s in this for money?”
Tennyson shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. It’s not important right now.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.
In record time, Grant barged into the room and rushed toward Mallory, as if he was beside himself with concern. His earlier politicking was nowhere to be seen.
“Doll, are you okay?” He knelt in front of her.
Tennyson looked away, unable to stomach Grant’s phoniness. Maybe there was a part of the man that cared about Mallory, but too much about him screamed Hollywood, and Tennyson still wasn’t convinced he had Mallory’s best interests in mind.
“I don’t know who would do this,” Mallory said.
“Who knew about the perfume?” Tennyson asked.
She didn�
��t hesitate before responding, “Dante. His men. I’m sure he got one of them to purchase it for him.”
“Did you mention the perfume to anyone?” Tennyson continued.
She shook her head. “No one.”
Mallory wished she could disappear. She wished the conversation around her was a bad dream. But it wasn’t, and she had no choice but to wade through it.
“We need to cut this tour short,” Tennyson told Grant.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grant shot back. “Someone’s trying to scare Mallory, but that doesn’t mean it should turn her life upside down.”
“Look at the stakes,” Tennyson continued. “This isn’t all one big PR opportunity. Her life isn’t your opportunity to capitalize on your career.”
Grant bristled visibly. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying that I think you’re looking out for your bottom line more than you are for Mallory.”
Mallory sighed. Was what Tennyson implying true? Had she put her trust in the wrong person?
“Kori, guard the door outside until the police get here,” Tennyson said. “I need to go downstairs and talk to some of the hotel staff.”
Mallory closed her eyes, her head suddenly pounding. Dwelling on Tennyson and Grant’s argument was tempting, especially considering the alternative. Yet all she could think about was that perfume.
That perfume . . . Alessandra had worn it. That was why Dante liked it so much.
But who would have left it here? And why? Just to torture her?
Think, Mallory. Think. Who else knew about the perfume?
Tennyson had left, and she waited for the police to arrive. As she did, her mind searched through the faces of the people she’d encountered in captivity. Her thoughts raced and scampered and skidded all over the place.
She stopped at one person.
Sanchez. Sanchez was Alessandra’s half brother. Apparently, that was how he and Dante had met—through Alessandra. That was the impression Mallory had after talking to the housekeeper, Gabriella, at least.
Sanchez had never been captured, and Mallory knew he could still be trying to run operations from some isolated place. He could still have contacts with Dante’s former network.
But why would he take time out of doing his reprehensible deed of selling illegal arms in order to sneak into Mallory’s hotel room and leave that perfume? It just didn’t make sense. She wasn’t a threat.
Memories of that scent hit her again. Was it a remembrance? Or had the fragrance somehow been absorbed into her hair or skin? She wasn’t sure.
She feared she’d throw up again at any minute. Images of Dante haunted her. His voice. His touch. His scent.
She leaned over a trash can and purged again.
“There, there, doll.” Grant rested his hand on her back.
Mallory jerked away at his touch.
He raised his hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” Mallory muttered, knowing her reaction was an overreaction. She had to get a grip.
Mallory turned toward Grant, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Do you know how that perfume got in here?”
He shook his head, concern etched in his gaze. “No idea. I don’t know who would do this. It’s cruel. The good news is that the police are on the way. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
As she shook her head, her temples pounded, aching with each motion. “Maybe all of this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I’ve brought too much attention to myself through this tour and made myself more of a target. I should have disappeared into obscurity.”
“Who would be after you, Mallory? They have no reason to want you back. Dante is dead.”
“Then who left the perfume? What kind of message was someone trying to send?”
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Kori let the police inside. Mallory gave her statement to the detective while a forensic tech collected the evidence.
Her mind kept going back to the perfume. She had so many questions about how it had gotten there. The only people with keys to the suite were her, Tennyson, and Grant. And, of course, the housekeeping and hotel staff. Certainly there were cameras placed around the hotel. Would they have recorded the person?
An uneasy feeling continued to slosh in her stomach.
She was tired of sitting back and waiting for this person to make his next move. She needed to figure out who was behind these acts before everything fell apart again.
Tennyson approached the front desk of the hotel, knowing the police would be down here soon to ask the same questions he wanted to ask. He considered it his job to protect Mallory by whatever means possible, and that didn’t just include keeping her physically safe from harm. If he could head off any trauma to her, he needed to do that.
The woman at the front desk was a pretty brunette whose eyes lit up as she soaked him in. He plastered on his best smile and leaned on the desk toward her.
“Can I help you?” Her voice sounded flirty, and her eyes sparkled with interest.
He drew in a deep breath and offered his most friendly smile. “I’m hoping you can. Do you keep security footage for the hotel?”
“Well, of course. What kind of establishment do you think we are?” She laughed and batted her eyelashes, then rested her chin on her hand and stared up at him.
He leaned toward her, glancing at her name badge. “How can I get to see some of the video feed, Angie? It’s important.”
Her smile faded. “Well, you can’t. What’s wrong?”
“Someone got into the suite upstairs, and I need to find out who.”
She studied him. “You’re with that girl who was abducted, aren’t you?”
He nodded, not willing to lie. “I’m security for her.”
The sparkle in her eyes returned. “Security? Like a bodyguard?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s . . . very admirable.”
He lowered his voice. “I really need to see that footage as soon as possible.”
She glanced at her computer screen. “I guess since you’re officially security, then you would have the right to see the footage. I’ll bypass my manager, but only because of the timeliness of the situation. Follow me.”
Awesome. He followed her back into a room behind the front desk. A fiftysomething man sat there in front of about eight screens.
“Hank, can you pull up the video footage for the eighth floor?” She smiled sweetly at the man, who immediately perked up at the sight of her. “Near the suites up there. Eight-oh-four.”
“Can’t do that,” he muttered.
Tennyson stepped closer. “Please. You heard about the woman who was rescued from that terrorist? It’s her suite. We’ve got to figure out if someone is targeting her, and we need to resolve this quickly.”
The rumpled, red-eyed guard muttered under his breath and began punching something on the computer. A minute later, the footage came up.
There was approximately an eight-hour window when Mallory, Grant, and Tennyson were gone, and the perfume could have been placed in the room. The guard fast-forwarded the video, slowing whenever someone came down the hallway. Only two people went into the room during that time period.
The housecleaning staff.
Had one of those women left it?
Tennyson turned toward Angie. “Can I speak with these ladies? Are they still here?”
Angie’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Rosie should still be here. Let me call her.”
Tennyson stared at the screen. The minutes seemed to stretch, each second ticking like a time bomb. Who had left that perfume?
Finally, a woman entered the room. The twentysomething maid wrung her hands together as she stepped inside. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun. Tendrils escaped and sprung from her hairline. Her uniform was too large for her slim frame.
The guard closed the door behind her, and the sound made her jump. Her eyes drifted to the floor. The wall. Anywhere but to someon
e else’s gaze.
“Rosie, this man would like to speak with you,” Angie said, her voice warm and friendly. “I need you to answer his questions.”
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do?” Her hands continued to twist together as she turned toward Tennyson. Her brown eyes finally met his—but only for a moment. She quickly looked back down at the floor.
“Did you leave anything unusual in suite eight-oh-four, Rosie?” Tennyson asked.
“Leave anything?” Her gaze shifted nervously, and her breathing became heavier.
He nodded. “It’s important that you tell me everything.”
“I don’t know, señor—” Worry rose in her voice.
“I think you do.” Tennyson leveled his gaze with hers before she tried to weasel out of telling the truth. “I need to know, Rosie. Someone’s life depends on it.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she fanned her face. “Life depends on it? It not supposed to be like that. It was gift. From boyfriend. That what he say.”
Tennyson’s thoughts churned. “Tell me more. Where did you meet this boyfriend?”
Rosie wiped her hands on the skirt of her uniform before fanning her face with her hand again. “He caught me on the elevator. Said he wanted to surprise his girlfriend. He gave me perfume and ask me to leave it.”
“That’s not against your policy?” Tennyson glanced at Angie.
“It is,” Rosie said with a frown. “But I thought there be no harm. He say they apart for many months. I thought he military.” Rosie’s voice rose with panic.
“Did he say that he was military?” Tennyson asked.
She shook her head. “He say he out on mission. I think he military.”
“What did this man look like?” Tennyson didn’t like what he was learning. But he had to get to the truth.
She shook her head, her eyes shifting wildly. “He tall. Dark hair. Very handsome.”
That could fit the description of Dante. Of course, it could be the description of many other men also.
“What was his voice like?”
“He have accent. Spoke Spanish.”
That was something to go on. “Where are you from?”
“Mexico City.”
Tennyson nodded, trying to put all the facts together. “Did his accent sound Mexican?”
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