Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Cici paced the hotel room, her bare feet silent against the plush carpet. The muted beige walls and generic artwork closed in around her, the hum of the AC and her own ragged breathing the only sounds.
She’d promised Forbes she’d wait for the bodyguard, but every second in Philadelphia felt like a noose tightening around her neck.
Those men—the smooth talker, the hulking guard—were searching, hunting her.
She needed to get out of this city and back to Shadow Cove, where she could hand off the necklace and reclaim her life.
Assuming those men didn’t know her name. Assuming they wouldn’t be able to track her down at her little apartment outside of town.
She’d worry about that later.
Her suitcase sat by the door. She needed the bodyguard to escort her to the airport. She still had time to make her flight. When she was past security, she should be safe.
The TV flickered in the corner, volume low, a local news anchor’s voice droning about a fire downtown. Cici paused mid-step, focusing as the screen cut to footage. Flames shot from a familiar storefront, smoke billowing into the evening sky.
That was Mr. D’s jewelry store.
Reduced to a skeleton of charred wood and shattered glass.
Those guys had torched it. Had they left Mr. D inside to burn with the building he’d lovingly built and operated for decades?
Probably. What they hadn’t left was evidence. That was all going up in smoke. Meaning the only one who could identify them…was her.
And then an even more horrifying image flashed on the screen. It was Cici’s photograph, the ugly picture on her driver’s license. Cici snatched the remote and turned up the volume.
“…Wright is wanted for questioning.”
She was wanted? She was the one who’d called the police in the first place. If they’d arrested those two guys outside the precinct, she’d be safe now.
Instead of protecting her, they’d released her name and photograph to the public.
Her hands trembled with the injustice of it all.
She glanced at the bed, where she’d dropped her purse and the black velvet bag, which had The Crimson Duchess tucked inside. If she hadn’t taken it, it would be in the hands of those killers now, and Forbes would never get it back.
The hulking guard hadn’t looked much older than her twenty-eight, but the other man looked to be in his sixties, old enough that he could have been involved in the murders of Forbes’s parents.
Had he come to the store to retrieve the necklace because it was evidence?
If so, how had it ended up at the store in the first place?
It didn’t make any sense, but Mr. D’s murder and the murders twenty-five years before had to be connected.
A sharp knock jolted Cici from her thoughts.
She muted the television and spun to stare at the door, desperate for help but terrified she’d find the opposite on the other side of that door.
Had those men found her? She’d been so careful.
She yanked her phone from her pocket. Her thumb was hovering over Forbes’s number when a voice cut through the door, low and steady.
“Miss Wright. It’s Asher Rhodes. I’ve been sent by GBPA, the Green Beret Protection Agency, who were hired by Forbes Ballentine to make sure you get back to Shadow Cove safely.”
Wait. Asher Rhodes?
She knew the name, but it couldn’t be the person she remembered, the geeky kid from high school with shabby clothes and ugly eyeglasses.
She crept to the door and looked through the peephole. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there, a shopping bag hanging from his left hand. No scrawny frame, no ugly glasses.
She unlatched the bolt and swung the door open, blinking up at the stranger.
Except, he wasn’t a stranger. He was an old friend. Somehow, that geeky kid from high school had turned into this man.
His dark brown hair, cropped short and neat, framed a face that had sharpened over the years. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, and ice-blue eyes. He towered over her, a few inches taller than six feet, his black T-shirt stretched over a muscled chest.
This wasn’t the awkward boy she’d known. This was…well, he was gorgeous.
She searched for an appropriate greeting but couldn’t think of anything. Finally, she managed, “What happened to your glasses?” She’d meant the remark as a way to break through the tension, but something hard and guarded flashed in his expression.
He stepped inside without being invited and closed the door behind him.
After engaging the deadbolt, he spun to face her.
“You need to change clothes.” His voice held no hint of kindness or even recognition, though he had to know who she was.
Unlike him, she didn’t look all that different from how she had a decade before. Just older.
She opened her mouth to say something—charm was her fallback, after all—but he moved past her and upturned the plastic bag onto the bed. A blond wig spilled out, followed by a shapeless gray sweatshirt and black leggings.
She wrinkled her nose. “What are those?”
“Your disguise.”
“They’re hideous.”
He gave her a quick once-over. “That’s the point, for you to look different.
While you’re at it, take off all that jewelry.
We don’t want them recognizing you.” His tone was clipped.
“Sun’s down. We’re slipping out the back.
Saw some questionable types in the lobby—don’t know if they’re the guys after you, but we’re not waiting around to find out. ”
Her stomach twisted. “How could they know where I am? I didn’t tell anyone—”
“No idea.” He cut her off, those cold eyes finally meeting hers. “Get changed, now.”
She bristled at the barked order. Who did he think he was? And what happened to the sweet kid she used to know? She was thankful he was there, but she didn’t appreciate his rudeness. “I’m not your underling, Asher. You don’t get to snap commands at me.”
“If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll do what I say.”
She was not accustomed to being told what to do, but the news coverage about the fire was still playing on the TV. She swallowed her words.
Asher was right. She needed to get away from those men, and she couldn’t do it by herself. She snatched the wig and clothes and stalked to the bathroom.
He’d provided a wig cap and bobby pins. Apparently, he’d done this before.
The blond strands felt cheap and scratchy, and the sweatshirt hung off her like a sack.
She had worn her hair all different colors—bright red, dark brown with red streaks, even purple for a while.
But she’d never gone platinum, for good reason.
The pale color made her look washed out.
Unlike her natural strawberry blond, the white-blond wig looked ridiculous with her light skin and freckles.
She felt naked without her jewelry. She always wore at least four rings, not to mention bracelets, earrings, a watch, and a necklace.
Sheesh, Cici. Who cared what she looked like? Someone was trying to kill her.
When she stepped out, Asher was waiting by the door, peering through the peephole. He glanced in her direction but didn’t comment on her appearance. His gaze cut to the high heels she’d worn that day, which were lying on the carpet. “Tell me you have sneakers.”
“Running shoes.” She folded her business suit into her suitcase and pulled on the shoes she wore to exercise. They were the only option she had that would go with her getup.
She zipped the suitcase, then stuck the velvet bag into her purse. She rarely carried it when she was working, usually shoving her phone and keys into her pocket. Her appraiser’s equipment was cumbersome enough.
All that equipment must’ve burned up in the fire. She’d need to replace it, and that wouldn’t be cheap. She prayed she lived long enough to deal with that expense.
She faced Asher. “Good enough?”
“Stay close. Follow my lead. We’re taking the service elevator.”
“Fine.” She didn’t like this—didn’t like him ordering her around, didn’t like needing him. But she’d trust him until she was out of this nightmare.
Then Asher Rhodes could go back to wherever he’d come from, and she could get back to her life.
The service elevator opened to a concrete hallway on the ground floor that was not accessible to the clientele.
Cici had no idea how Asher had gotten access to it.
She expected him to offer to pull her suitcase for her, but he didn’t, so she dragged it along behind her, following him to a steel door.
“Stay with me.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
If he picked up on her sarcasm, he didn’t let on as he pushed open the metal door and stepped out into the muggy air.
They were behind the hotel in a loading zone. A brick wall hemmed the area in on the far side. It was twilight, a much prettier word than the ugly setting deserved.
Asher looked both directions, then turned left and started walking at a good clip with those long legs of his. Cici wasn’t short, but she practically had to jog to keep up.
They reached a road that ran alongside the hotel, crossed it, then entered the alley behind the neighboring building.
Traffic sounds were muted. The sharp scent of rotting food mingled with exhaust from a truck idling at the corner.
Two blocks down, they turned on a one-way street toward a wider road at the other end of the block lined with parked cars.
The thump-thump of music carried out through a door on the right.
She glanced through a window and saw a long bar stretched along the far side of the room, a few small tables in the rest of the space.
It looked like an after-work crowd that had lingered through dinner.
They drank from longneck bottles and short glasses, munching from bowls of nuts and plates of food.
At the mouth of the alley in front of them, a police car passed slowly, then parked, its taillights reflecting off the pavement.
Asher grabbed her arm. “Stop.”
She did, the slamming of a door setting her nerves on edge. What was happening?
Before she could voice the question, Asher snatched her suitcase and shoved it beneath a car. Then he backed her up to the brick building, wrapped her in his arms, and pulled her close. “Play along.”
“With—?”
Her question was cut off when he lowered his head and kissed her.
A thousand reactions hit at the same time. Irritation. How dare he kiss her without her permission?
Fear, because those cops were probably searching for her.
But bigger than both of those—and much more intrusive—was her body’s reaction, which had her arms slipping over his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him closer.
Holy cow.
Had she ever been kissed in her entire life? She’d thought so, but she’d never experienced anything like this.
His lips were soft yet commanding. The arms that held her, strong and comforting. She rose to her tiptoes, wanting to get closer, wanting a little bit more. Maybe a lot more.
“Excuse us.” The voice came from a woman and held a hint of amusement.
Asher ended the kiss and stepped back, turning toward the cops, who watched from a few feet away.
There were two of them, a man and a woman. The man had his arms crossed over a broad chest. The woman’s hand rested on her holstered weapon. Both of them were studying Asher and Cici.
“Oh,” Asher said. “Sorry. I mean…not really, but… Uh, can we help you?”
“What are you two doing here?” the woman asked.
Asher chuckled and ran a hand over his hair. “Sorry, we were, uh… Just, you know.”
Her eyebrow hiked. “This isn’t exactly the most romantic spot for…you know.”
The male cop smiled, and Asher did too. “Right. You’re right. We got a little carried away. My car’s parked…” He nodded vaguely in the direction of the alley behind the building.
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she focused on Cici. “Do you feel safe, ma’am?”
Asher’s arm tightened at her waist, then dropped. He shifted to put space between them.
“Safe?” She squeezed Asher’s biceps and giggled. “Who wouldn’t feel safe in these arms?”
The cops didn’t smile.
They were worried about her, and she understood entirely. If she came across a couple the way they had come across them, she’d probably be just as concerned. “We’ve known each other for years. Don’t worry. I’m in good hands.”
The male cop cleared his throat. “We’re looking for a woman, reddish-blond hair, twenty-eight years old. She was spotted in the area. Either of you seen her?”
Someone must’ve noticed Cici when she’d checked into the hotel. As much as she hated the wig, she was thankful for it now.
“Not me.” Asher’s arm slipped around her waist again.
Cici had an idea. “I saw a woman with light red hair sitting at the bar.” Cici looked up at Asher. “You didn’t notice her?”
“I only have eyes for you, princess.”
That last word was probably meant to sound like a term of endearment, but she heard scorn in it.
“Which bar?” the policeman asked.
Cici nodded toward the door they’d just passed. “She was in there a few minutes ago.”
The cops thanked them, then headed for the entrance.
As soon as they were out of sight, Asher grabbed her suitcase. “Quick, before they come back.”
They ran to the main road, crossed it, and continued down a side street until they reached a black pickup truck. Asher clicked to unlock it and pulled open the passenger door. He shoved her suitcase into the backseat. “Get in.”
Cici was climbing—this thing was high off the ground—when he scooped her up and tossed her onto the seat. He slammed the door and ran around to the other side, where he slid in behind the wheel.
He pulled out into traffic, then handed her his cell phone. “Put in directions for New York, just to get us out of town.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“I’m suggesting that you should say please when you ask me to do something.”
“I’m suggesting that you should do what I tell you when I tell you or I’ll drop you at the nearest police station. Except in my case, this is not a suggestion, it’s an order.”
The nerve of this guy. Was this what she had to put up with, being ordered around by a grouchy guard? Never mind that he was a fabulous kisser, he was short-tempered and rude.
Maybe the police station was her best bet. She hadn’t done anything wrong, after all.
But they thought she had. Even if they believed her story, they’d take her statement, then send her on her way. They weren’t exactly in the business of protecting people.
And Forbes’s necklace would end up in an evidence locker, which was the last thing she wanted.
She hated to admit it, but Asher was her only choice. Rather than argue, she tapped directions into his phone. They displayed on a screen attached to his dash by a suction cup. So fancy.
Not that she was a snob, not ordinarily, anyway. Her snobbery only came out when she was irritated, and at the moment, irritated didn’t begin to cover it.