Chapter 5
Jordan slipped through Daisy’s drapes, grateful she’d left the balcony doors open, but also irritated she’d left her balcony doors open. She should know better—even seven flights up.
But he wasn’t about to say anything stupid to annoy her. Uh-huh. He was ready to placate her and beg forgiveness and explain he wasn’t some attacker. He wasn’t there to hurt her.
He had a plan.
Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be seen.
Damn.
Had she left? Gone down to Tremblay’s room while Jordan was busy chasing some Russian ghost?
Then Jordan registered water running in the shower and closed his eyes.
She was naked.
Again.
She was going to kill him this time.
And he was going to deserve it.
Again.
He tossed his cell on the bedside table and toed off his shoes and socks. Draped his shirt over the back of a chair.
He pulled the bedsheets back and then jumped on the bed for good measure, tossing a pillow onto the floor.
The knock on the door had him cursing. They’d arrived much faster than he’d anticipated.
He scrabbled his hand through his hair and slapped his cheeks and wet his lips. Undid the top button of his pants as if he’d just pulled them on to answer the door.
Hope struck him. Perhaps they could do this without Daisy even knowing he was here?
He checked the peephole and sure enough, there was the hotel manager in a gray linen suit, alongside a man in the state police uniform.
He blew out a breath and got ready to act his ass off. Daisy’s protection was a great motivator. He’d do whatever it took to keep his promise to Kurt and keep his daughter safe. The manager went to knock again as the shower turned off.
Jordan quickly opened the door wide and braced his hand against the jamb, blocking entry.
“What’s up?” He gave them a chin lift and a curious, but unconcerned, frown.
“The police want to question Ms. Montana.”
Jordan straightened. He could hear noises behind the bathroom door. He deepened his voice but kept it low. “Why?”
“Who are you?” The policeman tried to muscle the manager aside.
The noises in the bathroom stopped. No way she’d missed that strident demand.
“Jordan Krychek. I’m with the FBI.” He made himself bigger and spoke loudly enough for Daisy to hear. He hoped she’d figure out something serious had happened. “Ms. Montana’s boyfriend.” Both men’s eyes widened. “What’s this about?”
Boyfriend?
Yep. She was gonna kill him for sure.
The manager’s round cheeks puffed out in outrage. “She’s listed as a single occupant of this room.”
“Relax. I have my own room at the end of the corridor. I just haven’t slept in it much.” He gave them both a shit-eating grin. “Now what’s this about? Because I don’t know about you, but we have plans.” He let himself sound impatient.
For more sex.
With Daisy.
God help him.
The bathroom door opened, and the woman in question stood wrapped in a towel, outrage burning her navy eyes and rounding those pretty lips. He silently begged her to go along with him. To make an impossible intuitive leap. She inhaled, clearly about to lay into him.
Not good.
He moved into her and wrapped one arm around her waist and captured the back of her damp head with the other, pulled her flush against him and up off her feet. She felt tiny this close, and, also, incredible. A pity she hated his guts.
She opened her mouth, but he couldn’t risk it.
He crushed his lips to hers and felt her freeze. Then she must have figured out something serious was going on as she melted into him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him back like she was chasing her last breath.
Every nerve in his body electrified. Every cell in his body crackled back to life. Kissing her almost made him forget why he was here. It felt better than any other thing had in a long, long time.
A cough in the doorway had him pulling his lips away and staring into her deep navy eyes which held so many questions.
The manager cleared his throat again.
Her towel had loosened, so he didn’t let her go straight away even though holding her close was a particular kind of torture. She turned to face the men at her door—and the cop’s eyes roamed up and down her body like he could see through that damp towel.
She turned back to meet Jordan’s gaze as she grabbed onto the top of the towel and held it tightly in place. Her cheeks went bright pink. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I was asking these guys while you were in the shower, but they wanna talk to you. Shall I order that champagne in the meantime?”
She nodded vaguely, and her eyebrows pressed together in a frown. “Can I get dressed?”
“This won’t take long.” The policeman stepped inside the room, and Daisy stepped back. Her face was naked of makeup now, and those eyes were dark with worry set against pale skin.
Jordan lifted the phone and connected to room service. “Can I order a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Room 735.”
“Why are you here?” asked Daisy.
“I’m afraid there’s been a terrible incident,” the hotel manager began.
Her catch of breath broke his heart. “My dad?”
“No, your family is fine as far as I know.”
“Thank God. Next time lead with that.”
Jordan found a bathrobe inside the wardrobe and draped it around Daisy’s shoulders. It swamped her, but at least it stopped the police officer leering.
She shrugged into it and cinched the belt tight around her waist. “What incident?”
“Mr. Tremblay? You know him?” The policeman watched her expression carefully.
“Professor Tremblay? Yeah, of course, I know him. So does everyone at this conference. He’s the leading expert on the miniaturization of nuclear power facilities.”
“Some people, they say you and he walked on the beach tonight together.” The cop flicked a glance at Jordan. “Looking as if you were having an intimate moment.”
Daisy’s confusion was written all over her face along with something else—anger. “I spoke with Francois earlier—”
“She’s been with me since she left the banquet.” Jordan put his arm possessively around her shoulders. “What’s going on?”
The hotel manager wrung his hands together. “I’m afraid Mr. Tremblay took a fall.”
Lines pinched Daisy’s forehead. “Is he hurt? Does he need—”
“A fall out of his window.” The cop pointed to the balcony. “He’s dead.”
Daisy’s mouth went slack with shock. “That’s impossible.”
“His brains are splattered across the pavement proving otherwise.” The cop’s English was excellent, and he was obviously an experienced investigator trying to get a reaction out of Daisy. He succeeded.
Fine tremors moved through her frame as she started to tremble. “What? Are you sure it’s him?”
The police officer nodded.
She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. That’s awful.”
“Did you see anything?”
She shook her head frantically.
“We have several witnesses who say they saw you on the beach with Tremblay.”
“Tremblay the guy who gave us the wine?” Jordan asked Daisy, whose brows crinkled with confusion.
She nodded.
“She met me on the beach. A guy in a suit waded in the surf nearby. He offered us a glass of wine, which we accepted, but he didn’t stay long, and neither did we.
” Jordan held the cop’s brown-eyed gaze and let an annoying smirk rest on his lips.
“We had plans. You can check hotel security and verify.”
“You confirm that is what happened?” The cop addressed Daisy who held his gaze as she crossed her arms over her chest. Jordan kept his expression impassive but mentally begged her to go along with his story.
“Yes.” Her voice was a hollow whisper. “We saw Francois on the beach before we came inside.”
The cop’s gaze wandered over the crumpled bed covers and Jordan’s bare chest. Daisy’s jaw clamped so tight Jordan could see the muscles playing in her cheeks.
“You have ID?” The cop pressed Jordan.
Jordan reached into his back pocket. Pulled out his creds and flashed them. “I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m on vacation.”
The cop made a note on his phone. “I’ll need to talk to your superior.”
“You go waking up my boss over some guy I barely met taking a dive off a balcony, is not going to win me any favors.”
A sneer formed. “You think I care?”
“You’ll care when my boss wakes your boss at midnight to complain.”
The policeman harrumphed. “A man is dead. I have a job to do.” But he looked more subdued now. Less like he wanted to start an argument that might have personal repercussions.
Daisy turned away and sat on the end of the messy bed. Tears filled her eyes but didn’t fall.
Shit. Maybe she’d had genuine feelings for the Frenchman. Or maybe she was simply a decent human being who cared about others.
“I think you should go now. Daisy needs some time to process what’s happened.
You’ll have her contact information on file,” Jordan said to the manager.
He pulled out his own business card. “Do me a favor. Cancel that champagne, will you? I don’t think Daisy will feel much like celebrating now.
” He turned away from the officials and put his hand on her shoulder.
Then he sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his.
The policeman seemed reluctant to leave. Because Daisy was a genuine suspect or because he liked the view?
Jordan ignored him. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She sniffed and shook her head. “It’s so terrible. We were talking earlier about our careers and what we each wanted in the future. He had big ambitions. I had no idea he might end his own life. If I had, I would have tried to get him some help.”
“This is not on you, sweetheart.” He pulled her head to rest against his shoulder. Held the cop’s gaze.
Francois hadn’t ended his own life. The cop knew it. Jordan knew it. And the Russian he’d seen earlier also knew it. Jordan would bet his life savings that same Russian had actively assisted Tremblay with his deadly descent.
Jordan didn’t believe in coincidence.
It was murder. And he intended to figure out why.
As soon as the door shut on the two men, Daisy sprang to her feet and cradled her face in her hands.
What just happened?