Mine to Keep: Protection Series Book 4, page 26
“What is the real reason, then?”
“I haven’t dated a woman in what, a decade? I don’t even know where to start. I’m not signing up for some dating site—I’ve seen too many of those go wrong to trust a stranger—but all my friends are married and at that stage where they don’t have any single friends left to set me up with.” Twisting in the seat, he faced the back, where I was busy monitoring the searches, facial recognition, and hotel feed. “On top of all that, I know Heather was it for me. I’ll never find another woman like her. She brought out the best in me, catered to my protective instincts, and loved me for all my faults.”
The tightness in his voice had me darting a look away from the screens.
“It’s not fair to date when all I’d be doing is comparing the women to her.”
“What about Victoria?” I asked.
“What about her?”
“Do you think she’s missing out by not having a strong, independent woman in her life, someone like her mom?”
“I’m doing the best I can,” he snapped.
“Not saying you’re not, but you’re looking at this from just your perspective. It’s not just you anymore, Bryson. You have that sweet little thing at home you need to consider too. Sure, you might be okay with being alone and savoring the memories of your wife, but is your daughter?”
Silence filled the van, Bryson’s eyes taking on an unfocused look.
“You could always bring the women to you,” I said, drawing out the words.
Bryson twisted back around to face out the windshield and sighed. “I’m not kidnapping women and holding them in my basement.”
“What?” I barked with a laugh.
He shot a smirk over his shoulder. “Kidding.”
“You’re looking for a nanny now, right?” He nodded. “Well, find a nanny who fits for what you and Victoria need.”
“I’m not screwing the woman I hire to take care of my daughter.”
“Why not? If she’s willing and your type, it’s a ‘two birds, one stone’ type thing.”
“How in the hell did you win over Rhyan with that kind of shit in your brain?” I stuck out my tongue and wiggled the steel bar at him. “Remind me to put piercings down as another quality to watch out for when Victoria dates.”
“Another? You have a list going? She’s three.”
“The shit we’ve seen? Hell yes, I have a list going. And it’s a long one already. Hell, I might send her to a convent somewhere from twelve to forty.”
A ding from the computer halted our conversation, and I read through the results that populated on one of the hotel guests’ pictures Bryson took.
“Another dead end. This guy is still married, upper middle class, and no medical education. Fuck,” I shouted. Wrapping my hands around the screen, I gave it a hard shake, hoping that would change the results. “We’re getting fucking nowhere fast while she’s in there in the damn lion’s den.”
“With a gun.”
“Right,” I growled, my full attention now on Bryson. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s in there alone.”
He nodded. “What’s up with this ex of hers? I already wanted to kick his ass based on the phone call, but after hearing her earlier, she’s been through some shit, hasn’t she?”
“Her ex is a narcissistic asshole who made her think she wasn’t worth anything without him, fucking tool.”
“Hold up,” Bryson said, resettling in the seat and lifting the camera to his face. “This guy seems like a baller. I think he has an entourage.”
The cloth seat bent beneath my tight grip. Using it as leverage, I craned my neck to look in the direction he had the camera pointed.
“Get an excellent shot,” I whispered.
“No shit,” he snapped.
Smirking, I eased back into my half of the van and waited for the pictures to come through.
“Could be a rock star,” I mused. “Or some political figure. That hotel would cater well to those fuckers.”
I checked the time on the screen: 8:00 p.m. One hour before Rhyan would head upstairs to meet our potential unsub, or just a creeper who enjoyed cheating on his spouse. Neither was an ideal scenario, but Bryson was right about one thing: I had to let Rhyan do her thing, to not squash that confidence she had in spades as Agent Riggs. The other side of her, the woman Rhyan Riggs, grew stronger every day. I smiled at the screen as the pictures filtered through. It had only been a few days, but we’d both changed, for the better, because of the other’s influence.
“Or a judge,” Bryson said and fell back in the seat. “No wonder he wouldn’t sign the warrant for access to the hotel’s guest list. The motherfucker is a regular guest, no fucking doubt in my mind.”
I leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the hazy picture. “Huh, didn’t see that coming. Think he’s the one meeting with Rhyan?” I flipped to the next picture. “Never mind, I have my answer.” Turning the screen to the front seat, where Bryson was about to fall out of it to see the grainy blown-up picture, I tapped the middle of the picture. “He’s holding hands with this one. The other must be his bodyguard. Who knows? Maybe this hotel plays for the sexually adventurous too and they’re meeting their third here.”
“You ever done that?”
I smirked at the screen and raised both brows. “Is that an offer?”
“Fuck, what?”
“Kidding. And don’t ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to.”
“Holy fuck, you’re so—”
“Fucking amazing?” I cut in, turning to drape an arm over the back of my chair, daring him to correct me.
“Busy.”
Tipping my head back, I laughed at the metal roof, the sound bouncing off the small enclosed space. “It is a lot of work, especially when—”
“Just stop,” Bryson grumbled. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I got laid. Just hearing about your escapades might have me blowing in my pants.”
“That’s a sad state, man.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.”
“I’m telling you the nanny idea works.”
“I’m not fucking the nanny.” He laughed. “They’re all either old, married, or way too young for me. Though….” He shook his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nope. You can’t say ‘nothing’ now.” I reached forward and shook his seat. “Who is she?”
“Someone completely off-limits.”
“Not legal?”
“What the hell? Of course she’s legal.”
“Not into guys?”
“You’re a messed-up motherfucker, you know that? She’s my best friend’s little sister.”
I blinked, not having a good response for that reason to stay away. “So?”
“So,” he exclaimed, running a hand over his short-cropped hair, “she’s sweet, and innocent, and too damn young for me.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-seven, and in a relationship. Well, at least she was the last time we talked.”
“And when was that?”
He released a heavy breath. “I don’t know, three months ago? Six maybe? All time runs together when you’re a single parent just trying to survive.”
“Hey, guys?” Rhyan said over the line.
My stomach dropped until I saw the mute button was still engaged. We could hear her, but she couldn’t hear us.
Tapping a few keys, I opened up the line once again.
“We’re here. Something wrong?” I sat up straight in my chair and narrowed my focus on the camera feed from the bar. She sat on the same stool, same half a glass of champagne sitting in front of her. “You see something?”
“I’m bored.” She laughed. “Keep entertaining me. You guys left me.”
“Sorry, I had some stuff to work through,” Bryson said with a wink my way. “We’re good now.”
“Bryson has a crush on a twenty-seven year old,” I said, smirking at the screen. “He’s debating getting a tongue ring just for her.”
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Bryson grumbled as he snapped an arm out, fingers grabbing for me. I leaned just out of his reach. “I don’t have a crush on her.”
“Pretty sure I saw heart shapes float over your eyes when you mentioned Bethany.”
“The hell? Her name is Tinley, not Bethany.”
“Oh snap,” Rhyan said, clearly trying to hide her laughter. “You just fell for the oldest profiler trick in the book.”
In the rearview mirror, a contemplative look flashed across his face before morphing into a frown. “I hate you, Charlie.”
“Not possible. I’m a lovable fucker.”
“You got the fucker part right.”
A soft giggle floated through the feed.
“I do love to fuck her.”
“Oh my,” Rhyan gasped.
“That’s what she said,” Bryson said with a rumbling laugh.
An alarm on one of the laptops snapped my attention to the computer behind me. Twisting around, I tapped the keyboard, bringing up the alert. It took the first line of text to register the words, reminding me of this secret, mostly illegal search I’d set up earlier. Adrenaline shot through my veins, my heart thundering against my ribs. Ditching the chair, I kneeled in front of the laptop, scrolling down the list of names.
“What’s going on in there?” Rhyan asked.
“Don’t be mad,” I said offhandedly, too focused on the results coming across my screen to think of a better reply to prepare her for this information bomb.
“That’s never a good way to start things,” she said wearily.
“Since I was already toeing the legal line by hacking the hotel’s security feed—”
“Not toeing. You stepped right over that line.”
“Semantics. Anyway, I just thought, ‘Hey, if I get fired for that, might as well make a big splash, you know?’”
“No,” both of them said in response.
“You two are the worst. I hacked into the Affair Me servers.” I winced, knowing the hell that was about to break loose. A whispered string of curses filled my ear. “Did I hear you say, ‘Fucking brilliant’? Yeah, I thought so too. Anyway, I narrowed my search to only the asshole you’re meeting with tonight. Figured that would save my ass if I get caught.”
“If?” Bryson questioned.
“I don’t leave fucking breadcrumbs. I’ll be in and out before anyone notices the line of code I snuck into—”
Bryson held up a hand. “Just stop. You’re way over both our heads.”
“Agreed,” Rhyan agreed. “What did you find in your illegal search?”
“The guy you’re meeting with tonight is on the list of names I compiled from our profile.”
The silence from both of them made me smile.
“See? Fucking brilliant. If you see anything suspicious, anything that feels off when you get inside that hotel room, you fucking take him down and alert us.”
“We have to keep this quiet,” she said under her breath. “If I think this is our guy, send up two of the undercover cops and have them take him out one of the employee exits. That way if I’m wrong, we don’t alert the real unsub that we’ve identified his hunting ground.”
“Smart,” I said as I continued digging into Christopher Wilks’s online history. “Looks like he’s going through a nasty divorce, went to school pre-med but ended up taking a pharmaceutical sales role and has grown through the ranks. Mid-forties. I’ll dig into his medical—”
“No,” Rhyan shouted, followed by a mumbled apology. “That’s crossing the line, Charlie. That’s medical records. There are very clear laws and repercussions for anyone who breaks them. I like you, but conjugal visits will not happen.”
Chuckling to myself, I put a pause on the medical history search and turned back to his background, hoping to find more information to use as evidence and possibly save Rhyan from ever stepping a foot into that hotel room alone.
“He lives and works downtown, close to the bridge.”
Her voice was muffled as she talked to the bartender who approached. “It’s time. The bartender just slipped me a note with a room number on it. Sneaky little place, isn’t it?”
I sucked in a breath, my fingers frozen, hovering over the keyboard. I flicked a glance at the clock. “I still have fifteen minutes—”
“Charlie, I know what you’re doing, and I’m thankful. I really am,” she whispered under her breath. “But we all know I need to do this. Hopefully he’ll show his hand the moment I walk in, and boom, we’re done.”
The ding of an incoming alert sounded at the computer behind me running the facial recognition software, but all my focus was drilled on the screen showing Rhyan paying the bartender and sliding off her stool.
“You’ll still be early,” Bryson said, watching the monitor, then me.
“It’s who I am, fake date or not. I’m early to everything in life.”
“Lucky Charlie,” Bryson offered, voice tight.
I huffed a forced laugh, appreciating his attempt to ease my rising stress.
The moment she moved out of the bar, I switched the feed to the camera in the lobby. With her head held high, she walked with an air of confidence across the expansive lobby. A few men completely ignored the women they were with to watch her.
My hands curled into tight fists, my blunt nails digging into my palms. High and higher, my anger and frustration at being stuck in this fucking van rose. Heat built beneath my skin, my entire body trembling. With a roar, I slammed a fist to the side of the van, careful to stay far away from my precious computers.
Metal groaned. Pain immediately bloomed. I hissed a curse, cradling my now red and swollen hand with the other.
Terrible idea.
“What the hell was that?” Rhyan asked, alarm in her tone as she waited for the elevator.
“Nothing,” I grunted, sucking down gulps of air to keep my bellows of pain contained. “Be careful, Agent Riggs.”
“I always am, Agent Bekham. Don’t forget, I’ve already thought of eighty different ways out of this if things go south. No matter the scenario, I have a backup plan. Yay, anxiety.”
The ding of the arriving elevator stopped my heart, taking my full focus off my possibly broken hand. On the screen, I watched her slip inside. Her green eyes scanned the hallway ceiling. The moment she found the camera hidden in the molding, she offered a sad smile and a small wave just before the gold doors swooshed closed, cutting off my view.
Lungs tight, I pressed both hands to the edge of the makeshift table, my head dropping forward as I attempted to catch my breath.
Something was off. The uneasy feeling had flared earlier while standing in the alley and then grew, pushing against my chest all day. And now… fuck, now dread filled every square inch, every cell, my panic and fear rising with every second she was inside that building.
She had to come out on the other side of this unscathed.
My future depended on it.
24
RHYAN
Hand still raised, fingers wiggling, I didn’t drop the goodbye wave until the elevator jolted and began its ascent. Inhaling deep through my nose, chest blooming out, I relaxed against the gold-plated wall and pressed a hand to my chest. The rapid beat of my heart thundered against my palm, somehow driving my anxiety higher. The drinks from earlier churned in my stomach, threatening to creep up, but I shoved it down with a hard swallow.
I can do this.
Saving lives, catching the bad guy, and moving on to the next was my job, even if this aspect of the job was new.
Sweeping my gaze from the floor to the doors, I stared at my fuzzy reflection.
I looked the part of a woman ready for fun. Now it was time to play the part.
Walk in that room with a potential killer, give my best performance, and quickly decipher if this is our guy.
Easy.
Right.
The elevator slowed. The ding of my arrival on my floor had my shoulders rising to my ears. Sucking in a deep breath, I steadied my nerves for what was to come. The coolness of the metal wall seeped into my sweaty palms. They slipped against the smooth surface when I shoved off and stepped toward the now-open door, only for my trembling legs to give out under my weight.
With a surprised gasp, I stumbled forward, catching myself on the brass railing lining the elevator. Sucking down a lungful of air, I straightened, legs still trembling. Locking my knees to keep me from collapsing to the floor in a puddle, I smoothed both hands down the front of my dress. Warily, I attempted a small step, this time my legs bearing my weight.
The two doors pressed against my flattened palms, springing back open before they could smash my hands. Careful to keep my steps steady, I eased out into the hall. My hair shifted from side to side as I glanced each way down the hall. Coast clear, I stumbled forward, catching myself on the opposite wall.
The elevator doors whooshed closed behind me, sealing me to my fate.
Fingers trembling, I snapped open the envelope-style clutch, the badge and gun inside offering a sliver of relief. I wasn’t a strong physical fighter, as in terrible. I always got my ass handed to me in various ongoing training sessions we were required to undergo as agents. Though I was one hell of a shot.
At the firing range.
Never once had I fired in the field, and I hopefully wouldn’t break that streak tonight.
Straightening my spine, I rolled both shoulders up and back. I turned in a tight circle, searching for the sign that showed which way I should continue my shaky death walk.
This was it.
I wanted to turn around. To get in that elevator and race across the street to have Charlie wrap me in his protective arms. But I couldn’t back out now. Too many things were in motion, and we needed to know if this guy was our unsub.
My entire body trembled with the first step down the way indicated for my room number, the second slightly more sure. Halfway down the hall, I was the epitome of a confident woman. Chin lifted, spine straight, strides long and smooth. This was who I needed to be for the next few hours.
At the end of the long hall, I slowed to a stop in front of a black-painted door. An ornate brass design decorated the outside, making me curious as to what luxury and indulgence waited on the other side. It was then I noticed there was no peephole. Odd for a hotel, but I figured that kept other guests from spying on the comings and goings of others. Smart, really.
