Chapter One #2
He killed the engine and swiveled in his seat. “Yeah, I picked them on purpose because I am familiar with the staff, and the Downtown Patton has a security chief who is on my ride-or-die list.”
“That still makes no sense. Better to use the resources at QM than to move away from those assets.”
Quaid glared at her, and she leaned away from the irritation oozing out of him like blood on a flesh wound.
He frowned. “QM has resources many places. But I’m getting the inkling you don’t recognize me.”
She opened her mouth to sass back, then thought better of it.
The man’s handsome presence and entitled attitude drove her nuts.
In her two weeks at QM, there’d been no evidence of the warrior ethos that was the hallmark of QM.
Granted, she hadn’t been looking for it, but shouldn’t it have been obvious?
Quaid’s face blanked. “Congratulations. You are the only woman on the planet that can’t identify my face.
Zephren Patton? Hotel magnet with dozens of hotels across the world?
I’m his grandson. I’ve been in every hotel, know the weaknesses and strengths of each location, their staff, and how to go unnoticed in each and every one. ”
Disbelief flowed. She’d never been close to a billionaire in her whole life – even working for the FBI. No one had briefed her on QM’s personnel even during the many frequent collaborations on the Tenney case.
She stayed silent a second, then gave in to defending herself. “I didn’t know. How would I?”
Quaid shrugged and opened the door. “Social media, news, gossip. They don’t leave me alone.”
Alanna sighed and got out, too. “I don’t follow those unless it pertains to work.
” Whether he believed her or not, she didn’t care.
She’d been chastised for having singular focus at Quantico, but she saw no reason to branch into the latest day-to-day insanity unless it involved a case.
Serial killers were all she could handle on her plate.
Quaid entered the code and the garage door rolled. Inside, he went to a side panel and put in another code. Fortunately for them, Cait’s SUV was in the driveway not the garage.
“Put my car in the empty spot.” He went to a cupboard and exposed a different panel, input a code, and opened a door into the house. With a quick stop at an inside panel there, he tapped in another code and disappeared. Jesus, talk about security.
Alanna went around to the driver’s side and carefully moved the red wreck into a tight spot in the garage. Grabbing the two weapons, she squeezed out of the driver’s side and stopped cold at two bullet holes in the door. Punched right through. Too, too close.
Blowing out a puff of air, she worked her away around large first aid boxes and some exercise equipment. She followed Quaid into the house.
She stepped into a cozy breakfast nook and stopped in surprise. Their kitchen stunned with rich white walls and smooth oak cupboards with miles of white marble countertops and several kitchen gadgets by the sink including a coffee pot. She’d kill for a cup of coffee.
Quaid was on a white wall phone. “We aren’t staying here long. Have Elizabeth send us an Uber.” Quaid opened a drawer and pulled out a Walther P99. “No, I’m headed to Barker. I’ll call you when I get there. Have Harrison listen to chatter.”
Harrison Scott. QM’s Chief Operating Officer.
Elizabeth was their Chief Financial Officer and handled all the money.
Barker she’d never heard of. She studied the weapon Quaid was checking for ammunition.
She swore in her head, swung to the panel by the back door, and pushed a button she thought would close the garage.
It did. She shut the kitchen door and locked it, too.
Two weeks of meetings at QM International did not introduce her to the ins and outs of the involved relationships.
Mackey and Quaid she understood. They were partners.
Elizabeth was Quaid’s aunt, but his relationship with Cait defied explanation.
At first she was sure they were having an affair, then she had observed Cait with Hunt and knew the conclusion didn’t fly.
And how Harrison fit into the tight knit matrix at the top, she had no idea and hadn’t cared to find out.
This job was a consult only and a cover. A cover for her to find Whit, her protector, mentor, guardian, family, who had disappeared two weeks ago from the streets of San Diego. She hadn’t briefed her boss on this part of it. She shoved aside that worry.
If Quaid was a billionaire’s playboy grandson, what had he been doing in the Marines and the CIA?
Was the background false or the persona maintained for cover purposes?
Who was trying to kill him and why? She hated being confused, despised not understanding the situation, and her world lately was filled with exactly that.
No answers, more questions, and tons of doubt.
Quaid hung up the phone. “Don’t stand there. We’ll raid the closets for more casual clothes, gather ammo, and Hunt has burner phones.”
Borrowing the couple’s clothes bothered her at a level she refused to speak about. Growing up poor and homeless at times, she wore whatever was handed to her. But when she could finally afford to buy her own, wearing anything but new ceased. “I’m fine. I don’t need different clothes.”
“You look like an FBI agent, Williams. Which works at QM, but not in the field. Ditch the black suit and get into a pair of Cait’s jeans and a T-shirt.
” He led her across a dark living room, sensors in the plugins throwing bits of light across the carpet.
One glance told her the room was a comfortable spot for friends and family.
He flipped on a light in the bedroom, went to the bedside table, and pulled a Glock from the drawer.
She balked.
This was their bedroom. Their private space.
“We already have two Glocks. We won’t need any more.” She forced herself to move to the closet and pulled the doors open. One side was definitely Hunt’s. The other Cait’s. But there were only dresses, jackets, suits, and dry cleaning bags with work uniforms.