arrived.
This time, they were sunflowers. Fat, gorgeous, and cheerful. The card read:
Spinning around the room in delight, she clutched the card to her chest. “This is nuts,” she exalted. “Crazy. Fabulous.”
Flopping down on the bed, she lay back, enjoying the sensation of arousal and delicious sensuality. His reaction to her was instant and amazing. And as always, her reaction to him was heated, wet, powerful. She nearly had an orgasm thinking about how good he’d felt pressed into her body, how marvelous and affirming it had been to hold him, see his muscles quiver as he struggled to hold back his desire for her.
“Ooooh,” she drew out the word, savoring the sensations. Tomorrow night, after the partner dinner, she would bring him back here. They would take their time. Enjoy each other, free of the past.
With that thought foremost in her mind, she fell deeply and completely asleep.
In the darkness, he watched. He could see the police cars now, tucked in with the commuters and the travelers. Their Pennsylvania plates and multiple antennas gave them away if you took the time to look. Parked between cars from Ontario and Georgia, the cop cars were conspicuous. So was the latest bodyguard.
The cops would be in the bar and the lobby lounge, watching for trouble. The private hired muscle would be on the floor where Torie was, probably in one of the sitting areas by the elevator.
Excellent.
He smiled. Time for a little fun.
Chapter Nineteen
“Jameson? Jameson? You in there?” Paul heard the pounding on his door, and went from the depth of sleep to instant, hyperaware wakefulness in the space of a heartbeat.
He struggled into jeans as he hurried to the door. “I’m here. That you, Tibbet?”
“Whaddya think, it’s a monkey?”
“Hey,” Paul complained, pulling open the door. “You’re the one who told me to check this shit out before whipping open the door.”
“Yeah,” Tibbet said, prowling into the house.
“What’s up?” He knew it wasn’t Torie. Tibbet would have said so immediately.
“Weird shit.”
“Huh?”
“Torie’s okay, but—”
“What happened?” Paul demanded, grabbing Tibbet’s arm to stop him in his tracks.
“You’re gonna want to let go,” Tibbet said through gritted teeth.
“Not till you tell me what happened.”
Tibbet shook him off, but started telling. “I had two watchers on the hotel. One in the parking lot, two in the lobby. I could only keep ’em on for a while. City’s busy tonight. We needed ’em, ya know?”
“Budget cuts suck.”
“Yeah, you know it.” Tibbet seemed relieved that Paul understood. His chief had nearly fried his ass about the cost of manpower.
“So it was time for them to switch around, not be so obvious, and parking lot guy checks in with central. He goes into the bar and next thing I know, I got a nine-one-one to the head over there for the other two to be picked up, intoxicated.”
“Drunk? On duty?”
“Somebody wanted it to look that way. Waitress says they were both drinking nothing. One had tonic and lime, the other, an O’Doul’s.”
“That’s the nonalcoholic beer, right?”
“Yeah. So suddenly both of ’em start getting silly. One of ’em’s singing with the band, the other guy’s picking fights and shit. My third guy walks into the middle of this.”
“Hence the nine-one-one.”
“Yeah. I roll over there, fast, calling your Torie, but can’t get her. She’s turned her phone off, by the way, but I didn’t know that. Freaked me out.”
“You didn’t call me?” Paul nearly shouted the words. Now he was upset, and pissed.
“Nothin’ to tell till I got there.”
“But she’s okay?”
“Sound asleep. But I had to call my team in because someone had used our kind of crime scene tape all over the hall, over the doors and exits. I think our boy didn’t know which room she was in. She’s not registered, so he couldn’t get her room number.”
Paul frowned. It didn’t make sense. “But your guys…”
“Were drugged. Someone slipped them something. Both of ’em are at the ER, puking up their guts, getting it out of their systems.”
“Oh, that’s nasty.”
“Yeah, stupid, too. Nothing like an out-of-control cop.”
Frightening thought, Paul decided.
