‘Are we going in the Jeep?’ Autumn asked as she followed him down the steps from the front door.
‘Of course, we’re going in the Jeep,’ he snapped back. ‘We’re leaving it at the port, getting on the boat, and getting a cab to the hotel. What did you expect? Chauffeur-driven limo?’
‘No… I—’
‘Listen, I’m not fucking 007, and I don’t need a Bond girl. Tonight isn’t a game. Your mother’s dangerous!’
‘I know that.’ Autumn clicked the catch of her purse.
‘I might even have to kill her,’ Nathan told her.
He turned and locked eyes with her, waiting to see what that news would do to her.
She nodded and carried on counting as she opened and closed the purse.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ he queried.
‘Yes. Can you wait until after dessert? I don’t usually manage a starter, but I do like to have pudding.’
Twenty-Three
There it was. The Ricardo Hotel. She’d been so wired and strung out from all the lying, the confrontation she had to have with Juan, and the kidnap threat, she hadn’t noticed its appearance the first time around.
It rose up from the street like a huge chrome and glass castle, gleaming, brilliant, modern yet iconic, threatening and imposing. The magnitude of its exterior was overwhelming. Her stomach contracted, and she drew her purse closer.
The cab stopped outside the front entrance, opposite the polished granite steps she’d last stood on with Blu-Daddy.
She had to keep focused on the gargantuan hotel. She couldn’t look at the street. There were cordons a little way ahead—where Blu had fallen—forensic markers, too.
She retched and Nathan grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard. What his intention was, she didn’t know, but the pain was enough to shock her out of actually vomiting.
*
‘It’s just a high-class, overpriced hotel, nothing more. You must have been in hundreds of places just like this. It’s no different,’ he reassured.
He felt for her, but he had to stay in client/bodyguard mode for both their sakes. He didn’t want to be here either. If he was truthful, he was laying the blame for the previous night’s fuck-up firmly at his own door. He’d only ever felt as responsible on one other occasion, and the less he thought about that, the better.
‘Can we go round the back?’ Autumn asked.
‘No.’
‘Please?’
‘If there’s someone here watching, I want them to see you. I need to put things to the test.’
‘Put my mother to the test, you mean.’
‘If you like.’
He could see her hands were shaking, despite her attempts to hide the fact, and she had paled. He needed to make sure she ate. He hadn’t seen her eat since breakfast, and he needed to keep that monitored.
He opened the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, his eyes darting around their surroundings. If there was anything out of the ordinary, he would sense it. The visual was merely a failsafe. He moved around the back of the cab and opened the door on Autumn’s side. He held his hand out to her and she took it, gripping it tight. As her auburn head emerged from the car, a pair of photographers leaped from the outside seating area of a neighboring coffee house.
‘Back off, and do it now,’ Nathan threatened, shielding Autumn from the flash of the cameras and the questions that were about to come.
‘Autumn, how do you feel about the death of Blu-Daddy? Is it true it was an attempted kidnapping?’
‘I said back off,’ Nathan repeated.
‘Autumn, just a few words.’
The reporter shouting the questions produced a recording device from the pocket of his jeans and tried to get closer to Autumn. The pap with the camera was at her shoulder, shooting from unnecessarily close range.
‘If you don’t get that camera out of her face, I’ll implant it in yours!’ Nathan snarled. ‘Back off!’
He tightened his grip on Autumn’s hand and dragged her toward the steps.
*
She felt vulnerable in the flat sandals. Like Samson losing his strength from a haircut, she felt sapped of energy without heels. By the time Nathan had practically pulled her up the steps and into the foyer, she was perspiring.
She’d thought she was ready for this, whatever this was. But judging by her flakiness and her response to the press, she wasn’t prepared for anything.
‘We’ve booked a table in the restaurant. You need to keep the reporters out of here,’ Nathan told the concierge.
Nathan was right, she had to toughen up. In her career, she could be pretty ruthless. If she wasn’t on board with something, she had no qualms about letting everyone know it. Why couldn’t she find that persona now, when she needed it most? He must think her pathetic. She didn’t want him to think that. She wasn’t.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted herself into feeling a little more in control. When she opened her eyes, Nathan was standing a little way in front of her. He wasn’t looking at her. He just waited, eyes focused on the mid-distance toward the restaurant entrance.
‘Can we get a drink?’ she asked.
‘Sure,’ he responded. He took her arm and walked toward the door where the maître d’ greeted them.
‘Miss Raine has a table booked for eight o’clock,’ Nathan informed.
‘Of course. Good evening, Miss Raine. I have reserved our best table for you. Come, this way,’ the maitre d’ spoke and led them through the glass-paneled door.
Every diner in the room turned to watch their arrival, and when they realized who it was, they began to whisper to their table companions.
Autumn was accustomed to it, of course, but tonight they wouldn’t be remarking on her clothes or her hairstyle. They would be commenting on what had happened last night. They all knew her boyfriend had cheated on her, that she was allegedly dating someone new, that someone was trying to kidnap her, and now, her record producer was dead. The looks weren’t envious. They were expressions of pity.
*
‘Good evening, nice to see you,’ Nathan said
