Page 7 of Long Past Deadly

“Is my grandfather’s suite open, Nicole?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Daniels.”

“Take it off the active books.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman’s appraising inspection made Alanna wince. What must she look like? After being showered with bullets, glass, and shards of concrete, and racing across San Diego, she felt like hell. She would not compare to the sleek, stately beauties a playboy would normally bring here.

Angry with herself for even going to those thought, Alanna followed Quaid to the elevator. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She had a Ph.D. that she’d worked to exhaustion for, a knack for psychoanalysis of serial killers, and was a skilled FBI agent. When he pushed the button, she found her footing and whispered to him.

“All right. Fess up. Now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quaid pushed the button again.

Alanna shifted into his line of sight. “I have been shot at, emptied two magazines of bullets from my weapon, left my stomach back somewhere on the freeway, and if I hear one more ‘Yes Mr. Daniels’ I’m going to walk. Give me an overview of the situation here, Daniels. Why do these people know you so well?”

Quaid raised his eyebrows, his body still and taunt. “I lived here before I bought my house.”

“Who picked up the tab?” Sarcasm had always been her default. It was a flaw. One she wasn’t particularly proud of. The nosiness was a new development.

“My grandfather, not that it’s your business. And you’re causing a scene.” Quaid pushed the button again.

Alanna looked around noting the concierge, hotel manager, desk clerk, and bellboy staring at her.

“You have no idea the scene I can cause, Mr. Daniels. No idea at all.” Chilled, Alanna eyed a side entrance further along the hallway past the opening elevator. She had other things needing done, other searches. Beyond tempted to leave him on his own, she hissed when he grabbed her arm.

“Wait until the room. I still need a wingman.”

The elevator arrived.

Jerking away, Alanna stepped to the back of the richly carpeted, blue mosaic wallpapered box and plastered neutral on her face. “I’m sure the office could accommodate you. In fact, they’d send an army.”

“I’d rather it was you and you alone.”

Why?

She bit her lip. Did she even want that answer? “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me. Let’s remember the facts.”

“I do. And I didn’t thank you.” Quaid pushed a number on the panel. “After food and showers, we’ll have an honest talk.”

She didn’t answer, figuring a bright man like rich boy could figure out the ‘fine’ of her posture.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid keyed them into the room, glad he for once had declined bellhop assistance. He kept Alanna in sight through his peripheral vision, gathering from her body language that she’d come close to walking out on him. Stress and threats were a nasty combination. Anger and admiration mixed, and he did what he’d been known to do with warring parents – retreated.

He went to the bar and dropped the weapons bag on the polished mahogany top. He drew a bottle of gold labeled scotch, his grandfather’s favorite, and poured himself a straight shot. He gulped it and poured another. “Drink?”

She followed him, studying him from the other side bar. “No, thank you. Quit touching me. I don’t like it, nor do I want it.” She spit the words at him like a cat, shifting on the balls of her feet with her fists tight at her side.

Overreaction? He did tend to touch, and he knew exactly why the habit had developed. Red herring for the paparazzi.

“I apologize, but don’t make me.” Quaid took a sip and enjoyed the burn in the back of his throat, wondering why she prodded the edges of his control.

“Don’t . . .make . . .” Alanna’s hazel eyes shot sparks of animosity as she clamped her mouth shut.

He carefully placed the glass on the bar top. “Yes. You’re a smart woman otherwise the FBI would have tossed you, and QM wouldn’t have accepted your help on our investigation. Stop for a minute and think. We don’t know where the threat is coming from next, and you’re involved whether you want to be or not. You were ready to walk away. I saw it and stopped you.”

Alanna’s mouth worked, but she remained silent. She studied him and regained a self-controlled mask which he hated. She dropped her arms, backing away several steps before replying.