Chapter Two
Alanna assaulted her thumbnail, a nail-biting habit she’d dropped in college, and stared aghast at the twinkling lights edging the long stately driveway to the Downtown LA Regency Patton Hotel.
The twenty-story hotel looked as elegant as the name sounded.
Pampered guest services, a gazillion chefs for the best food anywhere, a concierge staff at a moment’s beck and call, business accommodations, chauffeured rides to the airport, and decadent rooms that oozed comfort.
So the commercials said. Alanna only stepped into these places with a badge, never having attempted to stay in one with a gunman on her tail.
Quaid came to a stop under the portico, put the SUV in park, and left the motor running.
The hour and twenty minute drive from San Diego had jangled her nerves and sapped her energy.
Sitting next to a silent Quaid, she’d watched every tiny move he made.
His focus defied description. Tempted to ask, she’d fought a hard battle to remain silent.
What did it matter anyway? Except she liked to know who had her back – lesson learned the hard way.
“Are you crazy?” Shifting in her seat, Alanna stared at Quaid.
He had cleaned up well, but was still more casual than his usual office appearance.
She had too tight jeans, messy hair, makeup toasted, and a nasty nick on her face with an annoying sting.
She couldn’t pull off rich and famous on her best day, but with borrowed, ill-fitting clothes, it was a non-starter.
The valet hurried to the driver side door. In the dark evening with the harsh lights, his young face was lined with tiredness, and his blonde hair tossed in the dead-of-the-night breeze. At Quaid’s raised finger, the valet paused by the door.
“Problem?”
Alanna sucked in a steadying breath and forced herself to unclench her teeth. “I’m not clear on this plan. Why are we here?”
“We’re going to get a room.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I thought we were coming here to meet backup.”
Quaid shook his head. “We can stay under here and hunt for answers, work with QM to identify the trails we should follow.”
“We could do that at the office.”
“Until we understand the threat, no. It puts too many others at risk.”
“The way we look? We’re going to walk in like nothing has happened? We aren’t exactly non-descript.”
“No, but the staff has seen me dressed many ways and with many different women. They’ll take care of getting us quietly to a room.”
Quaid opened the door, and signaled to the valet. The concierge approached the car, too. “Hello, Robert. Nice to see you. Park it in back away from everything please, Toby.”
The young man settled into the seat. “Yes, sir, Mr. Daniels.”
The sureness in Quaid’s step as he moved around the car and opened her door snagged her attention while her mind tumbled. The confidence left her floundering. Many different women?
He put out a helping hand, and she gave hers without thinking.
The instant they touched, a buzz blew up her arm, leaving behind a tingle in her nipples and the obvious results pressing on her t-shirt.
She jerked her hand away, then grabbed her jacket.
It was bad enough sitting next to him. She did not need and would not absorb the physical feel of him.
“So this is your idea of a place to hide?”
“No, this is my idea of a place where I can use its assets and blend in.” Quaid snagged the weapons bag and slammed the door, signaling for Toby to take the car. Gripping Alanna’s elbow, he motioned her to the entryway.
Robert was a gray-haired, older man. Dressed in a gorgeous burgundy uniform with gold braid, he followed with respect and discretion, easing ahead of them to open the door.
“Are you and the young lady all right, sir?” His quiet words flowed over her.
She knew they were too visible.
“Yes, Robert. Thank you. How are the grandchildren?”
Robert’s big smile encompassed Alanna. She found herself smiling back, all the while wondering how many other women Quaid brought to this hotel.
“All are well and happy, Mr. Daniels.” The servant reached into his pocket. “Here’s a handkerchief.”
“Thank you, Robert.” Quaid lifted her chin and dabbed at her cheek. “Blood.”
“Still?” Zapped again by the man’s attention, she had no way to move away from him without causing a worse spectacle.
“It would appear so.” He finished and stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket.
Alanna jerked away, wrapping herself in numb emotions that served her so well.
In the lobby, she stalled, stunned. A stained glass, domed ceiling drew her eyes to a waterfall rising to the second story.
The rooms on the second floor opened to the splendor of clear water cascading from an artificial stone wall and dissipating into a pond at the center of the lobby.
Planters of lush greenery and exotic pink and yellow flowers filled the air with their perfume.
Sofas and clusters of easy chairs offered comfortable seating for guests to meet and chat.
Quaid drew Alanna away from the waterfall and to the desk.
The young woman smiled prettily at Quaid. “Hello Mr. Daniels.”
Alanna pressed her lips together, forcing her irritation aside. All this deference was killing her.
“Is my grandfather’s suite open, Nicole?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Daniels.”
“Take it off the active books.”
“Yes, sir.” The woman’s appraising inspection made Alanna wince. What must she look like? After being showered with bullets, glass, and shards of concrete, and racing across San Diego, she felt like hell. She would not compare to the sleek, stately beauties a playboy would normally bring here.
Angry with herself for even going to those thought, Alanna followed Quaid to the elevator.
She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She had a Ph.D.
that she’d worked to exhaustion for, a knack for psychoanalysis of serial killers, and was a skilled FBI agent.
When he pushed the button, she found her footing and whispered to him.
“All right. Fess up. Now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quaid pushed the button again.
Alanna shifted into his line of sight. “I have been shot at, emptied two magazines of bullets from my weapon, left my stomach back somewhere on the freeway, and if I hear one more ‘Yes Mr. Daniels’ I’m going to walk.
Give me an overview of the situation here, Daniels. Why do these people know you so well?”
Quaid raised his eyebrows, his body still and taunt. “I lived here before I bought my house.”
“Who picked up the tab?” Sarcasm had always been her default. It was a flaw. One she wasn’t particularly proud of. The nosiness was a new development.
“My grandfather, not that it’s your business. And you’re causing a scene.” Quaid pushed the button again.
Alanna looked around noting the concierge, hotel manager, desk clerk, and bellboy staring at her.
“You have no idea the scene I can cause, Mr. Daniels. No idea at all.” Chilled, Alanna eyed a side entrance further along the hallway past the opening elevator. She had other things needing done, other searches. Beyond tempted to leave him on his own, she hissed when he grabbed her arm.
“Wait until the room. I still need a wingman.”
The elevator arrived.
Jerking away, Alanna stepped to the back of the richly carpeted, blue mosaic wallpapered box and plastered neutral on her face. “I’m sure the office could accommodate you. In fact, they’d send an army.”
“I’d rather it was you and you alone.”
Why?
She bit her lip. Did she even want that answer? “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me. Let’s remember the facts.”
“I do. And I didn’t thank you.” Quaid pushed a number on the panel. “After food and showers, we’ll have an honest talk.”
She didn’t answer, figuring a bright man like rich boy could figure out the ‘fine’ of her posture.
&&&&&&&&&&
Quaid keyed them into the room, glad he for once had declined bellhop assistance.
He kept Alanna in sight through his peripheral vision, gathering from her body language that she’d come close to walking out on him.
Stress and threats were a nasty combination.
Anger and admiration mixed, and he did what he’d been known to do with warring parents – retreated.
He went to the bar and dropped the weapons bag on the polished mahogany top. He drew a bottle of gold labeled scotch, his grandfather’s favorite, and poured himself a straight shot. He gulped it and poured another. “Drink?”
She followed him, studying him from the other side bar. “No, thank you. Quit touching me. I don’t like it, nor do I want it.” She spit the words at him like a cat, shifting on the balls of her feet with her fists tight at her side.
Overreaction? He did tend to touch, and he knew exactly why the habit had developed. Red herring for the paparazzi.
“I apologize, but don’t make me.” Quaid took a sip and enjoyed the burn in the back of his throat, wondering why she prodded the edges of his control.
“Don’t . . .make . . .” Alanna’s hazel eyes shot sparks of animosity as she clamped her mouth shut.
He carefully placed the glass on the bar top.
“Yes. You’re a smart woman otherwise the FBI would have tossed you, and QM wouldn’t have accepted your help on our investigation.
Stop for a minute and think. We don’t know where the threat is coming from next, and you’re involved whether you want to be or not.
You were ready to walk away. I saw it and stopped you. ”
Alanna’s mouth worked, but she remained silent. She studied him and regained a self-controlled mask which he hated. She dropped her arms, backing away several steps before replying.
“Agreed. All I ask is for you to not touch me again.”