Hotel Hideaway: (Soldiering On #4)

by Aislinn Kearns

  “Weren’t you in the Army?” Cameron asked, interrupting her thoughts. He turned, holding the photo of her in her Navy dress uniform, the American flag waving proudly at her back.

  Her heart flipped at being caught in the lie. “Ah, yeah, no. Samantha is a fake identity.” She winced.

  Cameron’s eyes widened. “You’re name isn’t even Sam?” he hissed.

  “Oh, it is, but it’s not my full name. I’m Angelica Samson, but everyone calls me Sam.” She took a few steps towards him, her hand held out to shake as if meeting him for the first time. He took it, gingerly, his eyes still wide while he processed the new information. His hand was warm in hers and low-level sparks travelled up her arm at the contact.

  She dropped his hand like a live wire, the sudden movement startling him out of his reverie.

  “Angelica,” he repeated.

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. Don’t compliment it. Don’t say it suits me. It doesn’t,” she said adamantly.

  He grinned. “A lot of guys use that line, huh? Call you Angel?”

  Sam growled. “You’ve got no idea.”

  He broke into laughter at her played-up annoyance, and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. He had a great laugh, relaxed, and loose, but deep enough to make lust curl through the pit of her stomach.

  Something must have changed in her face, because Cameron’s gaze shifted, intensified as it locked onto her.

  Sam got caught in his eyes for a brief second, in the ache she saw there. It was unlike her to be flattered by that, but pleasure twisted in her belly at the knowledge he liked her, wanted her, knew who she really was and yearned for her just the same. If not more.

  “Sam…” he murmured, his hand coming towards her.

  She dodged out the way, not knowing what to do. Even if it wasn’t completely unprofessional, she still couldn’t be with him. Not unless she trusted him completely. And even then…

  For Sam, sexual attraction came hand-in-hand with trust. For her to open herself to someone, trust them enough to let them into her heart and body, was a big deal. So when that trust was shattered, it broke something very precious inside of her. She wasn’t sure she’d willingly give of herself like that again.

  She’d slept with two men previously. One had been her first boyfriend, in senior year of high school. They’d had a brief but intense affair where they’d explored each other, but it had petered out soon enough.

  Later, though, when Sam understood herself and her sexuality more, she’d put her trust in a man that had only seen her as a challenge. She’d told him she wouldn’t sleep with him unless she loved and trusted him, and he’d taken that as a game to be won. He’d played a role, making her fall for him and trust him implicitly, until she finally gave him what he sought. Sam had been ecstatic, thinking she’d found someone she could spend the rest of her life with. Instead, he’d broken up with her that morning, explaining he didn’t want anything long-term.

  It had just been a five-month campaign to ‘win’ the unattainable.

  She hadn’t trusted another man since.

  But there was something different about Cameron. Something that stirred to life a long-dormant desire to be touched and loved, like a sleeping dragon, slowly unfurling itself, and she was the village waiting for its own destruction.

  She couldn’t risk her heart like that again. Not until she was completely sure Cameron was the man she thought—the man she wanted him to be.

  “Where did you go just now?” Cameron asked, voice hesitant.

  “We should go,” Sam said firmly. “Better to get you back to the safety of the hotel. Particularly if someone’s out there, waiting to make their move.”

  Cameron sighed, but agreed, and the two traipsed into the darkness. Sam felt eyes on the back of her neck the whole drive to the hotel, but when she looked, no one was there.

  Chapter 13

  Sam shuffled through another folder of irrelevant papers and bit back a yawn.

  “Tired?” Cameron asked, himself a picture of exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed his drooping eyes, his shoulders slumped with both weariness and defeat. They hadn’t found anything of interest in the file room, even though they’d been there for a full hour, and had the two of them searching. Sam shouldn’t have expected they’d find a smoking gun just because they’d teamed up.

  But disappointment still weighed on her.

  “I can keep going,” she said, but another yawn betrayed her.

  He chuckled. “We should head back anyway. Neither of us got much sleep the last few nights.”

  Sam nodded and turned away so he wouldn’t see her blush and wonder at its cause. Her sleep had been worse than even he knew—she’d been up half the night tossing and turning from thoughts of him. Hot, yearning thoughts. And confused, circular thoughts. It was a wonder she could function at all today.

  She’d managed by avoiding Cameron as much as possible. She’d taken to stationing herself outside of his office. Ostensibly to give him better coverage, but mostly so she didn’t have to see his face and hands and deal with the extremely unprofessional thoughts those appendages inspired.

  It had worked, mostly, but it had resulted in her having to deal with Erica’s assessing looks every time the woman walked past. Sam didn’t think she wanted to know what went on in Erica’s mind.

  “I’ll call Paul on the drive back and see if he had any lucky with those payroll reports,” she told him as she neatened the stack of papers with more care than the task warranted.

  They made it out of the building without incident, but that prickle on her neck told her someone watched them. She figured it was the assassin from the other night. Or even multiple assassins. But she couldn’t do much until the woman made her move. Sam’s stomach tightened with nerves, not knowing where or when their enemy might strike next.

  “Let me check the car before we go,” she said, holding Cameron back with an arm across his stomach.

  Cameron watched her curiously as she checked the inside of the car with ruthless efficiency, then installed him in the bulletproof car and checked under the hood and the car itself. No explosives—good. But she did find a GPS tracker embedded behind the plate. So, chances were the assassin knew their location.

  Sam crushed the tracker under the heel of her shoe and jumped into the driver’s seat.

  “All good?” Cameron asked.

  “A tracker, but it’s gone now.”

  He blinked. “They tracked us?”

  “It’s not unexpected,” she replied. “I was more worried about explosives.” She turned the key and smiled when the car purred to life without blowing them up.

  “I thought car bombs were just in movies.” He slanted a glance her way. “Or war zones.”

  She smiled faintly. “Yeah, war zones have their fair share,” she told him. “The brake lines weren’t cut either, by the way. So we’re clear for the bad movie assassination plots.”

  He chuckled. “Good to hear. I wouldn’t want to die a cliché.”

  She smiled and turned her focus back to the road. After a minute, she pulled out her phone and put it on hands-free to dial Paul’s number.

  “Hey, Sam,” he said when he answered.

  “Sorry to call so late,” she began, but he grunted to convey he didn’t mind. Same old Paul. “Did you have a chance to run those names from the payroll reports?”

  The sound on Paul’s end of the phone muffled. “I have to go to the office,” he said, presumably to his girlfriend, Christine. “Hang on,” he said to Sam, then put the phone in his lap so he could wheel himself into his home office in his chair.

  “Alright, let me see if my program has finished running.”

  Sam heard the click of a few buttons.

  “How’s Christine?” she took the opportunity to ask.

  Paul hesitated. Uh oh. “Fine.”

  “Paul…” she said, trailing off in the hope he’d elaborate.

  He sighed. Sam heard the click of the do
or as Paul must have closed it. “I think she’s pregnant,” he hissed.

  Sam let out a delighted laugh. “That’s great news! Isn’t it?”

  Paul hesitated again, and Sam’s stomach dropped. “She won’t tell me. I keep leaving the opening, but she won’t talk about it.”

  “Maybe she’s waiting for the right moment?” Sam glanced at Cameron to see how he took all this personal talk, but he was looking at her, his expression intense. She had no idea what he thought, so she focused back on the road and Paul.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “But now I’m thinking, what if she’s waiting for me to propose? She had a religious upbringing. I don’t know what she’s expecting.” An edge of panic had entered into his words. Sam smiled, knowing Paul only wanted to please Christine.

  “Do you want me to talk to her?” Sam offered, but her lack of enthusiasm was evident even to her. She hated getting in the middle of other people’s personal problems. She’d much rather they talk it out and communicate like adults. Unfortunately, even adults didn’t communicate like adults half the time.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sure she’ll mention it eventually.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “Do you want kids?” Sam asked.

  “I want Christine’s kids,” he said immediately. “And kids in general, I guess.”

  “Does Christine know that?”

  Paul paused, this time more thoughtful. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “Huh,” was all Paul said, but she could tell he was pleased.

  “So, about these names,” she hinted, trying to get them back on topic.

  “Right,” Paul said. “Well, I ran them all. About a hundred. All of them had bank accounts in the States, which wasn’t a surprise. Various salary levels over a three-month pay period. None of the job titles stood out to me. Some definitely freelanced, but all for reputable companies, like event-planning businesses and stuff. So, I ran the names to see who was out of the country at the time. I’m still going through that data, but no red flags so far.”

  Sam made a sound of annoyance. “Did you get anything we can use?”

  “Not yet,” Paul replied apologetically. “I’ll keep working at it. I’ve been trying to find some more information about the private contractors you mentioned. I think I actually remember them, so I asked around the office. We’ve all either worked with them, or know someone who has, and a few people have some bad stories to tell.”

  “Shit,” Sam muttered. “So they might have committed multiple crimes over there?”

  “Sure looks like it,” he replied. “It’s mostly second-hand information, though. Nothing we can use to bring them down. I’ll try to find some more info to back up the stories, see if we can’t get some hard evidence.”

  “Thanks,” Sam said. She glanced at Cameron to see him sitting rigid, focused on Paul’s words. “Maybe see if any of them knew a Greg Lawrence. He tried to gather evidence against them. Maybe we get lucky.”

  “Will do,” Paul muttered. They said their goodbyes and hung up.

  Cameron sighed and banged his head back against the headrest. Silence settled for a moment, and then he turned to her. “That was a nice thing you did for him.”

  Sam raised her eyebrow in question. “What?”

  “Talking your friend through that, with his girlfriend.”

  “Oh, that,” Sam said with a shrug. But a smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the thought of Paul and Christine having kids. They’d make great parents. “Paul isn’t the most talkative type. I’m just glad he trusts me enough to tell me.”

  “It’s sweet. You’re clearly a good friend.” His gaze warmed.

  Pleasure twisted through her. “Thanks. I try.”

  They shared a smile, and then silence settled over the cabin. Cameron sighed heavily.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

  “This whole investigation is a disaster,” muttered Cameron.

  “What?” Sam asked. “All the stuff Paul told us is good news.”

  “How? We’re still at square one—or three—with no proof.”

  “We know it was an open secret Beaton’s private contractors weren’t on the up and up. That means there has to be proof out there. If it was well-hidden, I’d be more worried.”

  Cameron exhaled heavily. “Okay,” he said, sounding a little more rational. “So what’s the next step? How do we get the proof we need?”

  Sam considered the question. “Well, there is someone that might know where the metaphorical bodies are buried.”

  Cameron frowned.

  “Your predecessor,” she continued. “He would’ve been CEO at the same time your brother died. Chances are, he was well aware of what the company did. But if he’s retired, then he might be willing to talk on record. It would be a good start, if nothing else.” Cameron’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Do you know where we can find him?” she finished.

  Cameron’s expression dulled as he shook his head.

  “No. I asked Erica once because he had information about a client I needed. She said she didn’t know and didn’t want to—sounds like they didn’t part on good terms.”

  “Even better,” Sam assured him. “When we get to the hotel room I’ll call Paul and ask him to do some digging. We could even visit him this weekend if he’s still in the area.”

  Sam pulled into the car park and glanced at Cameron. Her heart warmed to see him more enthused than she’d previously witnessed. But she ruthlessly shut down that emotion.

  Her heart shouldn’t be warming at anything to do with Cameron, and she had to remember that.

  Chapter 14

  The air temperature dropped as they drove further into the mountains. Paul had texted Sam the CEO’s location earlier that morning, a cabin about three hours outside of the city. They went, with little need for discussion, as they both wanted to do something—move forward in the investigation despite the setbacks.

  Sunlight crested the trees, warming Cameron’s face despite the chilled weather outside. He sucked in a deep breath as fresh air rushed in through the open window of the car. He couldn’t remember when he’d last taken the time to get out of the city, focus on something other than his mission. Now, he could do both at the same time.

  “What’s this guy like?” Sam asked from the driver’s seat. “What’s his name? Frank?”

  “Yeah,” Cameron replied. “George ‘Frank’ Franklin. Jovial, I guess I’d call him. He has a booming laugh. Played a mean Santa at Christmastime, apparently.”

  Cameron smiled at the image of the former CEO of Beaton—a man past his physical prime with a few spare tyres around his middle—playing Santa for his employees once a year. They’d seemed to miss it when Cameron took over and had hired an outsider for the job last year.

  “He sounds like a decent guy,” she murmured, an amused smile on her face.

  Cameron shrugged. “Maybe. But he was CEO when my brother got killed, so who knows?”

  She swallowed, her smile dying a quick death. “Right. I guess we’ll find out.”

  He studied her face, the determination etched into her features as she focused on the road ahead. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

  She blinked, glanced at him, then focused back through the windshield. “Doing what?”

  “Helping me investigate. It’s not your fight. It’s dangerous, and unpleasant. So, why are you helping me?”

  Sam sighed and shifted in her seat. “Well, at first I wanted to make sure I hadn’t saved the life of someone who had nearly killed my friends. Duncan, when he opened Soldiering On, gave all of us a home and a purpose, something none of us had when we’d left the military. I wanted to repay that favour by helping find who almost killed him and my other boss, Mandy, who has become a good friend of mine. I couldn’t bear to think I might have let their attacker walk free.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly, as if risking life and limbs for friends was a normal thing to do. In her world, he suppo
sed it was. The military encouraged that bond, and it didn’t break once they left. He’d seen that in his own brother, but never understood the depth of it until this moment, and Sam’s casual attitude to it all.

  “And now?” he asked softly.

  “Hmm?” she asked, being deliberately obtuse.

  “That’s why you came. But now you know I’m not the person behind the Christmas hostage situation, why are you still here?”

  She exhaled, evidently realising he wouldn’t let it go. “You’re my responsibility now,” she said.

  “So I’m a burden?” he asked, teasing her a little.

  She cracked a smile. “No. But you are a client.” A blush stole across her cheeks, and a swoop of pleasure moved through him. That wasn’t how she saw him. Not only a client, anyway.

  “Is that all?” he asked, wanting her to say it. Wanting her to admit something potent brewed between them.

  “Not all,” she whispered. And that was enough for Cameron. For now.

  ◆◆◆

  They arrived at Frank’s cabin with a helpful indication from the GPS that they had, indeed, reached their destination. Cameron stayed in the car for a brief moment while Sam checked the area, then stepped into the cool mountain air to join her.

  Frank’s cabin lay in the middle of nowhere, off not just one beaten track, but three. It was large, and comfortable-looking from the outside—at least, well-maintained and didn’t appear to be falling down. The garden, however, was a different matter, with overgrown plants leading to the door, a chicken coop to the left, and a dog kennel to the right. No dog was in sight.

  Cameron went first, reaching for the small knee-high gate with flaking white paint that blocked the path to the house. Before he could touch it, the front door to the house burst open, evicting a thin man who stumbled to the edge of the porch. Cameron got the impression of grey hair and weathered skin before the man straightened and aimed a shotgun in their direction. The man held it steady, pointing the barrel in Cameron’s direction even as his eyes darted wildly.