Protecting The Boss. Beverly Long
because I wasn’t confident in the ensuing chaos that somebody wouldn’t take me for a bad guy and decide to shoot me in the back.”
“Do you always have a gun?” She sounded shocked.
“I provide security services. I have a permit to carry it and I know how to use it. And while Las Vegas is as safe as any other city, I usually don’t go out at night unless I’m armed.”
“I guess that’s good. I mean, that you have a gun.”
He studied her. “You have no idea why anybody might be shooting at you?”
She shook her head.
His gut told him that she was lying. And his gut was rarely wrong.
“What are your plans in the morning?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Just trying to figure out if you’re planning on leaving the hotel. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she said. “I have commitments at the boutique.”
It wasn’t much but evidently all he was going to get. He shouldn’t be surprised. Earlier tonight, she’d also not been very forthcoming about her parents dying in a plane crash. He’d given her the perfect segue when he’d talked about his own father’s premature death in a plane accident. But she’d said nothing.
He was usually good at reading people but she was better than most at hiding her emotions. Her pretty face gave him no hint of what she might be thinking.
“I guess that’s good night then,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Lock the door behind me,” he said. With any other business associate, he would have extended his hand. But he kept it to himself. He’d felt her silky smooth skin when he’d wrapped an arm around her and shepherded her behind the hotel’s half wall.
Another feel and he might not want to let go.
Megan flipped the bolt lock and barely made it to the couch before her legs gave out. She’d been shot at. With real bullets.
It was so unbelievable that she felt as if she must be having a dream. A nightmare.
If Seth hadn’t been there, she had no idea what might have happened. But he’d responded like a machine, not pausing, just acting. And when he’d started asking questions, she’d desperately wanted to tell him the truth. Even at the risk of seeing disbelief in his eyes.
Seth had asked her who might be shooting at her. She’d given him nothing. It wasn’t an outright lie. She really had no idea. But given the other things that had happened over the last several months, she could not ignore the possibility that the attack had not been random.
The idea that somebody had followed her to Vegas, had traveled hundreds of miles, was so objectionable that it made her skin crawl. It made her think that the person had to be very determined.
But that in itself made no sense. She didn’t have any enemies. She lived a peaceful, quiet life. Who could be that angry with her?
It gave her a headache. And tomorrow they would begin reopening the four stores that had been closed for months. She couldn’t afford being tired or off her game.
She was going to have to move on. Not forget it and certainly not ignore any other odd circumstances or take unnecessary chances with her safety, but for now, she was going to have to set it aside.
She undressed for bed and pulled on a nightgown. She slipped between the cool sheets and decided that she would think of something else.
Seth Pike.
Handsome. Fast thinking. Quick acting.
She hoped he didn’t make a big deal about driving. He’d been insistent about getting his name registered with the rental car company. But she did not intend to hand over the wheel.
Bad things happened when you gave control to others. Her parents had made that mistake. Did it make it better or worse that it had been to someone they trusted? To someone she trusted? Loved?
She closed her eyes.
It had been a beautiful clear day. Everybody had said so.
And every day, she comforted herself with the image that her parents’ last hours had been full of sunshine and beauty. And she tried never to think how horrific the final moments might have been. How worried they would have been about her and Abigail.
They’d have had no way of knowing what the future held for their daughters. She liked to think that they’d have been happy with her decisions. Even proud now.
She’d done everything within her power not to let them down. She wasn’t stopping now. She started making her mental list of all the things she needed to do the next day. Felt a measure of peace. Work had always been her salvation. And Abigail her joy. It was a life that most would be very content with.
And she was. She certainly didn’t need Seth Pike messing that up.
Six hours later, Megan woke up when her alarm went off at five. She stretched and glanced out the window. It was not yet light out. Still, she forced herself to swing her legs over the side. She ran most mornings, tried to get in at least five miles. She had a treadmill at home and while she was on the road, she intended to make good use out of the hotel fitness equipment.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face and put on her workout clothes. Then she pulled her long hair back into a low ponytail. Once she’d tied her shoes, she made sure she had her hotel key card in her shirt pocket and then flipped the bolt lock.
She opened the door, turned and almost fell over Seth Pike. She let out a little squeal. He was sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall on the same side as her door. He opened his eyes and turned his head, as if he was scanning the hallway.
“Keep it down,” he said. “It’s pretty early yet.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
He shrugged and stood up. “Morning,” he said. He ran his eyes from her head to her toes. “So you’re the type that gets up and heads to the gym.”
It wasn’t a character flaw. “I run.”
“I see,” he said, not sounding thrilled. “Let’s go.”
“I wasn’t anticipating company at the gym.”
He nodded and ran a hand over his head. “Yeah, but I got a streak going here and I don’t want to break it.”
His clothes were again wrinkled, like they’d been after the rain. With his innocent act, he reminded her of a mischievous little boy.
Except she wasn’t fool enough to fall for it. She’d seen him in action last night, immediately after the shooting and then again when he’d very competently inspected her hotel room, looking quite at ease with a deadly looking gun in his hand.
“You’re not exactly dressed for the gym.”
“Maybe I’ll just watch this morning.”
He was not going to watch her run. Just the idea made her warm.
He fell into step next to her. But then stopped suddenly. He was staring at her shoulder. At the lovely green and purple. “What the hell is that?” he asked, his voice deep.
“It’s a bruise,” she said. She hadn’t expected company, hadn’t thought to keep it covered. Yesterday, when they’d first met, her scarf had been strategically arranged to cover her upper arm. Last night, her dress had sleeves that had done the trick.
“I know that,” he said. “But how did you get it? Not from last night,” he said. “It’s not a fresh one.”
“No. Two weeks ago, I rolled my car and hit my shoulder