—forty-one—
Wilson
Chicago
March
It’s almost one in the morning by the time I get to the hotel. All I want to do is crawl into bed with Tabitha and crash—hard—but there’s still a gauntlet of people to get through in the lobby, and nobody is being allowed up the elevators without a room key. Tabitha’s last concert is happening the night before the Democratic primary in Illinois, and Victor Best’s campaign has taken over the hotel she’s staying at.
I fight through the unexpected crowd to the counter and hand over my identification.
“Wilson Carter,” I say. “There’s a room key waiting for me.”
“Right, yes, there you are, Mr. Carter. Up on the…fifteenth floor. Room 1562. You can take the elevators here to my left.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I get in the elevator and punch the button for the fifteenth floor, but nothing happens. I push it again, and still nothing. So I try the doors open button, and they do, but then a big, ugly guy wearing an ear piece gets on, and that’s like catnip for me. So I don’t say anything when he slides his card into the slot at the top of the number panel and pushes the penthouse floor button.
Where Tabitha had been, and was booted from. Which means it’s Victor Best’s campaign on the top floor. This guy is clearly security, but he doesn’t look like Secret Service.
Interesting.
“Floor?” he asks me gruffly.
“I’ll go up with you,” I say smoothly.
“Not an option.”
“Then I’ll take fifteen.” Can’t blame a guy for trying.
“You a reporter?”
“No.”
“Why’d you want to come upstairs?”
“To the fifteenth floor?” I play dumb. “That’s where I’m staying.”
“Are you a registered guest at this hotel?”
“You don’t have any right to ask me that.”
“You sound like a reporter.”
“I’m not.” I notice he hasn’t pushed the button for my floor, so I lean past him and push all of the buttons. The car jerks to a stop and the doors open. I catch a quick glance that we’re on the sixteenth floor before Rambo grabs my arm and pushes me out of the car and up against the opposite wall. “Hey! Watch the face. My girlfriend likes me pretty.”
He says something into his radio, and I try to figure out where his feet are. Can I swing a low, sweeping kick and make him fall like a big, ugly oak tree? Bet I can.
Before I get a full chance to weigh the pros and cons of going a few rounds with a presidential candidate’s private security guy, a familiar voice tells him to back off.
“Clearly there’s been a misunderstanding, right Carter?”
I turn and give Deacon Webb my most innocent smile. “Definitely.”
He jerks his head. “Follow me.”
“Do you give me orders now?”
He doesn’t say anything, and since I’m tiring of being a prick, I do as he asks. He lets us into a room at the end of the hall, next to the stairwell. He leans back against the door.
I start on the offensive. “Who was that guy?”
“None of your business.”
“He wasn’t Secret Service.”
Deacon clenches his jaw and a nerve twitches in his temple. Ah. A sore spot. I’ll be sure to poke that again if I need to. “And he’s gone. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”
“No worries.” I reach for the door handle but he doesn’t move out of my way.
“Is this a coincidence, you being in Chicago at the same time as Best?”
“Sure it is.”
“I will arrest you.”
“Promises, promises.” I wink. “All kidding aside, am I free to go?”
“You’re free to answer my questions.”
“Then you’ve de facto arrested me, and I want my lawyer.”
Deacon slams his fist against the door. “Fuck off, Carter. You know I’m not going to arrest you. But I need to know what the fuck you’re doing here.”
“I’m here for a woman.” It’s a damn cliche, but for once it’s the truth. I pace further into the room. “I don’t like your protectee, but I promise you, I’m not here about him.”
“How did you get a room here?”
“How do I get any hotel room?” I shrug and tap my fingers against an imaginary keyboard. “You should look into their security systems. But actually, I’m seeing someone who already had a room booked here. She’s had a…commitment in town for months, booked well in advance, unlike your guy’s travel plans.”
“What was with the goading on the elevator?”
“Sometimes being reckless gets me results.”
“So you do have an agenda.”
“Always. But this weekend is about…” I trail off and roll my lower lip between my teeth. Deacon’s a good guy. But Tabitha is mine and mine alone. My partners are sworn to secrecy, and as far as her band and crew are concerned, I’m a security consultant. Once Derew/Rook’s case is settled, and she can quietly petition a court for an annulment, maybe then we’ll let the outside world in. Or maybe never. It’s nobody’s business but ours what we are to each other.
“A woman.” He says it doubtfully.
“It really is.”
“I don’t believe you. And I don’t want to have to shoot you later because you’ve tried to kill a candidate for the presidency of the United States.”
“That was definitely not my plan for the evening.”
“I’d feel more comfortable if I knew it wasn’t your plan for the year.”
I don’t plan anything that far out. “I want you to be comfortable with letting me go. I pinky-swear I have no ill intent toward Victor Best or his beautiful young wife.”
“What does Ginnifer have to do with this?” His voice hardens, and I don’t miss it.
I give him a slow appraisal. “She’s friends with Tabitha Leyton. I think you’ve probably met Tabitha, yes?”
He nods. “They had dinner tonight.” Understanding dawns, and he rocks back on his heels. “Vegas. That was you?”
Another nod.
“Tabitha’s nice.”
“Hands off.”
He laughs. “Okay.” He moves out of the way. “Have a nice night, Carter. See you around.”
I take the stairs down to the floor below, where my love is waiting.
She swings the door open as I approach. “There’s my secret girl,” I whisper as she folds into my arms.
“I’ve missed you.” She tips her face up to mine and I dip her back so we can kiss.
“I’m going to quit my job and follow your tour like a groupie.”
“Luckily it ends tomorrow night, because I think you like your job.” She kisses my jaw. “Come to bed.”
“In a minute.” I dump my bag on the luggage rack and pull out the long, flat jewelry box from the front pocket. “I got you something to celebrate the end of the tour. And the start of us.”
The box opens smoothly. Inside is a long, narrow gold chain with a heart in the middle.
“It’s a belly chain,” I explain, suddenly unsure if it’s a good gift or not. It made sense when I bought it. “And the heart can sit…”
She blinks up at me, her eyes swimming brightly with unshed tears. “I get it. Oh, Wilson. I love it. I love you. It’s perfect.”
I kneel in front of her and she lifts her t-shirt, baring herself to me. I wind the chain around her waist, carefully connecting the clasps first before resting the pendant right above the filigree heart at the bottom of her tattoo.
It is perfect.
—epilogue—
Wilson
one year later
Seattle
February
My secret girl has the flu. She’s been sick for days, and I’ve been playing nursemaid—and a few rounds of dirty doctor, too.
Even when she’s not feeling well, we still slide into that desperate, needy connection that was all th
at we had for so long.
I glance around the waiting room. Her new doctor has been extraordinarily good with her, patient and understanding.
The door from the clinic space opens and Tabitha steps out. She’s still talking to the nurse. “Still keep taking the Tylenol?”
“Yes, that’s fine. Lots of rest, fluids, and making sure you’re eating enough, that’s the main thing.”
“Will do.”
“And we’ll see you back here in another month.”
I stand up and hold her coat for her as she wriggles her arms into it. “Ready to go?”
She gives me an unexpected grin. “I am. There’s a quick stop we need to make on the way home.”
I’d gotten a perfect parking spot, so my Range Rover is right out front. I still have my Tesla in Washington, but I needed something more rugged for out here, and the Rover was just as compatible with the electronic upgrades I’d gotten used to in my Tesla.
The security system at her house—our house—for example, is fully integrated into the car. I can pull up all the same video streams I can on my phone, even take a snapshot with the touch of my finger and send it to my bots to run through the databases.
Bulletproof glass, reinforced doors…the only thing it’s missing is a rocket launcher.
Washington State frowns on those in cars, and I’m trying to be more law-abiding these days.
Today I just need the built-in wifi to find— “Where are we stopping?”
“A drugstore.” She covers my hand with hers. Her fingers are cool, and I lift them to my lips to warm them up. That’s when I realize she’s shaking.
I lift my eyes to her face. “What is it?”
“I need prenatal vitamins,” she whispers. “I’m pregnant.”
Time to take another step into the light.
~
~
The Forbidden Bodyguards series will continue…
Next in this world comes a standalone romance:
It took Ginnifer Best a year to trust Deacon Webb, and a single night to fall in love with him.
Now they share an explosive secret that could erupt at any moment and tear apart the White House. But the former beauty queen, former nanny, and current First Lady of the United States of America can’t resist the intensely handsome Secret Service agent. He’s the keeper of her secrets and the only guy in Washington who makes her kids laugh. So what if he’s completely off-limits?
November 2016
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Dirty Love (Forbidden Bodyguards #3) Page 17
