Page 14 of Protecting You

The clerk had come up with the name so quickly, it was as if he made up aliases every day.

“We’ll be in the system under that name.” Alyssa continued into a living room.

Callan passed a bathroom on one side of a short hallway and a kitchenette on the other, then stopped in the living room’s threshold.

This was a hotel room?

The dining table and chairs alone were worth more than his car.

Definitely not in Kansas anymore.

The overstuffed sofa and love seat faced a sixty-five-inch TV that rested on a carved mahogany sideboard that matched the end tables and coffee table, all of which probably dated to the nineteenth century. A desk perpendicular to the bay windows looked even older, though the wheeled chair pushed up to it was modern, and even that was out of his price range.

On the two walls facing the deck, antique bookshelves were filled with books. Maybe that was why they called this room the library.

The carpet was plush, the drapes lavish, the artwork expensive reproductions. Were the books first editions?

Everything about the room was sturdy and masculine. Callan had never met Gavin Wright, but he’d heard stories. He’d seen the man on more than one occasion. The room suited him.

“Does your dad own this place or something?” Callan asked.

“He just comes to the city a lot.” Alyssa had already settled on the sofa, toed off her shoes, and plopped her feet onto the coffee table. “This is his favorite suite. Once, it was taken—he was offended they would dare rent it to someone else—and they gave him a similar one on this floor. Similar in design, but the decor was all pink toile and lace.” She grinned, shaking her head. “He was not impressed.”

Callan still didn’t move into the living room. He’d known Gavin Wright made a killing when he'd left government service. The private sector paid more, no question about it. But this much more? Crazy.

“What will he think about us being here? Are they going to put this on his bill? Because I want us to be safe, but I can’t afford this place, and I don’t like the idea of you paying?—”

“Dad will cover it.” She gathered her blond hair on top of her head, reclined, and let it drape over the couch.

A beautiful, graceful lioness, relaxing in her den.

“Don’t worry about it.” She flicked her hand toward him as if to flick away the thousands of dollars per night this place must cost.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like relying on someone else to pay his way. He didn’t like knowing he could never set foot in this building, much less this room, if not for Alyssa.

Hopefully, Gavin Wright would forgive the expense if it meant his daughter was safe. If Callan took her elsewhere and she were to get hurt…Thatwould be unforgivable.

Callan checked out the two bedrooms. One had a four-poster bed and an attached private bathroom. The other had two queens and a door that led to the same bathroom he’d seen from the hallway. He carried her suitcase into the master. “I’m going through this.”

She pushed to her feet and followed. “What? Why?”

He’d already unzipped her luggage on the bed and opened it. “Your intruders weren’t concerned about you knowing they’d been there. IfIwanted to track your movements, I’d put a tracker in this.” Still bent over her things, he turned her way. “Do you have other luggage?”

“Just that and a big one for longer trips.”

“Okay, good.” The suitcase had been in her closet, on a high shelf, so it was likely that, if they’d wanted to track her, they would’ve shoved something into one of the pockets. He’d check the clothes first. He pulled out a pair of yoga pants and ran his hands along the seams. Nothing out of the ordinary in the hems, and it had no pockets.

She watched him from the end of the bed. “If they put a tracker in it, then they could be on their way here right now.” Her voice rose the slightest at the end, as if the idea terrified her and she was working to hide it.

“Unlikely.” He added a reassuring smile to the word. “If you were their target, then what happened at your building would have gone down very differently.” He worked his way through her clothes.

But Alyssa wasn't wrong. He should’ve done this before they reached the hotel. He’d been focused on getting here, getting Alyssa out of danger. He hadn’t been thinking.

He needed to do better…bebetter.

When he reached toward a bulging zipper pocket, she slapped her hand over it. “You’re not sifting through my underwear.”

“I’m not a pervert, Alyssa. I’m trying to?—”

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