Page 85 of Swerve
The Proprietor
“If the officers are leading from in front, watch out for an attack from the rear.”
?Howard Tayler
SHE CHECKS THE security footage once she gets back to her office, looking for the time the man in the hallway came into the hotel.
Holding the iPad in one hand, she scrolls back and finds it at 7:05 p.m. A young woman is with him, pretty enough to be his date. They’re not holding hands or touching though, so she’s not sure whether it’s a date or something else.
Odd that he’d been walking the halls of the hotel when he’d just come for dinner. Not that people don’t check it out, but she likes to remain aware of who’s looking around. He doesn’t look like a typical tourist. He looks like military to her. Cut jawline. Formidable build. Keen eye.
She could be accused of paranoia, but one doesn’t stay ahead of the odds by ignoring anything that looks suspicious. She isn’t starting now.
She’ll double-check the dining room in a bit to make sure he and his companion leave the premises once they’ve finished their dinner.
The Senator
“Be careful not to compromise what you want most for what you want now.”
—Zig Ziglar
HE HASN’T FELT like this since before he’d found out Santa Claus wasn’t real as a young boy. That excitement when he’d first woken and realized it was Christmas morning, and he couldn’t wait to find out what was under the tree.
Sitting here at the table, watching Arrington saunter through the restaurant to their table, the anticipation of waiting for him to pick up the glass, it is all he can do to sit still in his chair, pushing his food with his fork to one side of the plate.
“Everything all right?” he asks as Arrington pulls his chair out with poorly concealed irritation.
“No idea what that was all about. Whoever called had already hung up when I got to the phone.”
“Why wouldn’t they call your cell?”
“Beats me.”
“Well, while you were gone, I considered what you’ve said tonight. You have some excellent points that I will weigh in my own voting decision. Let’s toast to that. Working things out.” He raises his wineglass and waits for Arrington to do the same.
The younger senator hesitates, his expression reflecting his surprise that Hagan has wavered on his position. The surprise is quickly replaced with a pleased look. Arrogance. Does it every time. Arrington reaches for his glass, clinks it against the rim of Hagan’s, the crystal making a pleasant ding.
“To unexpected pleasures,” Arrington says, taking a hefty sip of the red wine, as if intent on rewarding himself for the hard work he’s done here tonight.
“Indeed,” Hagan says softly. “Indeed.”
Mia
“Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.”
?Plato
THE CLOTHES MAKE her feel like throwing up.
Mia stares at herself in the mirror, tears welling in her eyes at the realization she has been made to look like a much younger version of herself.
No makeup except for a touch of pink lipstick. Her hair has been braided with a matching pink ribbon laced through the woven strands. Her dress is white with a high neckline and scalloped lacing. Her shoes are flat, ballet slippers.
When she’d asked the horrible Helga why they were dressing her this way, she had laughed and said, “For playtime. What else?”
Mia cannot imagine what man would be attracted to her in these clothes, but when she lets herself dare to follow that line of thought, she is afraid she does know what kind.
Despair floods through her veins, and she wants to rip the dress from her body, shred it into tiny pieces. Yank the ribbon from her hair and scrub the pink lipstick from her mouth. But then she thinks about the woman with the dead eyes and the promise she had made if Mia does not go along with her plans. She pictures the enormous man who escorted her to the spa room and the thought of him touching her makes nausea well up inside her so that she runs to the sink and gags. Nothing comes up though, her stomach aching from the physical retching.
