Page 15 of The Bodyguard

“Sure you do.”

Sawyer wasn’t wrong. She and Paul had grown apart. They didn’t have a spark. She’d grown up. Her interests had changed. Angela was never lonely. Titan kept her busy. The last few years of keeping her head down and processing the years she’d been Pham’s hostage had siphoned any thoughts of romance or longing. She was content with her personal relationships. Paul wasn’t a part of her life and didn’t try to be included.

The front desk bell chimed three times, a code for an incoming VIP arrival. The crystal-clear call resonated through the lobby and beckoned bellhops, breaking the question-induced freeze that had stolen her words.

Two bellhops rushed across the lobby. The call bell rang again, three times. Angela straightened. A second call was never needed. Staff appeared out of nowhere. Security stood taller. The atmosphere shifted. Her skin prickled. “I wasn’t aware of any VIP arrivals today.” Angela glanced at Sawyer, sure he could sense it too. “You?”

“Nope.” His gaze tracked from the bellhops to the reception desk to the gold-accented bulletproof glass doors. “Hang tight a second. I’ll find out what’s happening.”

Sawyer motioned for her to stay. She ignored the request, stood, and followed. They walked along the window wall that overlooked the entryway.

A black Suburban sped into the hotel’s main drive. Sawyer waved Angela back, but she moved to his side. The vehicle stopped as if the driver owned the place—her stomach catapulted—because he did own the place.

“Boss Man’s here,” Sawyer said.

Her heart tangled with the knot in her throat. “Where the hell has he been?”

Valets and bellhops rushed to the vehicle in a way that was less like the expected speedy service and more hustle-and-go. Neither he nor Angela had a visual confirmation yet, but Sawyer was correct. Jared Westin’s own-the-world attitude made her feel safe. Usually. At that moment, her gut screamed there was a problem. That wasn’t how Jared made an entrance, especially after he’d been MIA for hours. “Something’s wrong, Sawyer.”

Sawyer’s stance changed. He stood taller, broader, tensing on high alert. “Not necessarily.”

“You don’t sound very convincing.”

He didn’t try to change her mind.

They waited. Jared didn’t materialize. Anxiety crackled down her spine. “Do you see him?” Angela stepped to the side. “The landscaping is blocking my view.”

Sawyer held out his hand again to caution her. “Hang tight, Ange.”

She stepped closer to his side, partly shielded from whatever loomed inside the blacked-out SUV. Angela couldn’t discern movement beyond the valets unloading bags. “Jared wouldn’t have luggage.”

The bellhops and valets blocked the view as the passengers exited. Their group moved toward the lobby doors.

She wasn’t at the correct angle to see anyone. “Scoot over.”

Sawyer ignored her elbow and didn’t budge. Angela leaned against him.

The group bypassed the reception desk. It had to be Jared. He had to have been meeting about the assassination attempt. Perhaps he’d been involved in the interrogation. But that didn’t explain his flashy entrance or the dread cementing her in place.

The bellhops split away from the group and unblocked Angela’s line of sight. Boss Man powered toward the elevators.His purposeful stride covered the floor like an alpha wolf leading a bloodthirsty pack.

Then she saw them. “Oh God.” Her stomach bottomed out. “No. This can’t be happening.”

Two men Angela had known most of her life tried to keep pace with Jared’s angry march. “They want to turn yesterday into a political talking point.”

Sawyer glanced down. “What?”

She slunk back and considered hiding behind an oversized plant, but before she could, life sucker punched her again. Angela swayed. Sawyer’s steadying hand rested against her back, and then he followed her gaze to her mother and Paul, who trailed several paces behind the other men.

The entourage would see her at any moment. There was nowhere to hide.

Jared saw them but didn’t slow the procession. “My office. Now.”

Still struggling to keep pace, the two men inclined their heads in greeting as they passed.

“This is very bad,” she whispered, unable to look away from her mother’s approach. “Very, very bad.”

Her mother, the Senator, always looked the same. It was part of her persona, along with her crisp power suit, coordinating accessories, and coiffed hair dyed the same color it had been the first year she was elected to office. Mother had always said she needed to match the image voters had in their minds, that in the court of public opinion, women weren’t allowed to age as gracefully as their male counterparts, that life wasn’t fair, but she wasn’t in the position to act on any of her feminist principles because she was busy enacting laws for the greater good.

---