Chapter Three #3
“Watch and learn.” Quaid sat back, his empty coffee cup in hand, tiredness in deep lines across his face.
“Any news on our investigation?” She took a bite, determined to fuel her body even if she’d expected not to like the meal. She was pleasantly surprised by the taste and worked her way through the courses. If she wasn’t careful, she’d gobble.
“No identity on our shooter. His car is in police custody and being analyzed. I’m reviewing my CIA cases in my head. You should do the same with your FBI ones.”
“I told you. It’s not me. I wasn’t working on anything in any way that would cause this.”
“Do it anyway, if only to eliminate possibilities.”
She stayed silent through several more bites. For some reason, agreeing with him scratched at her sense of self. But there was no logic in disagreeing. Plate cleared, she sipped her coffee. “You need sleep. I could use some more.”
Quaid glanced at his watch. “Close to four a.m. I’ll sleep for four hours and get started.”
“On?”
“I have a few ideas, but they’re better left until I’ve rested for a bit. How are you at computer research?”
“I can hold my own.”
“Deal. Let’s rest.”
Alanna wiped her mouth, assessing security options and what would make the uneasiness in her gut go away. “I’d prefer to take a weapon to bed with me.”
Quaid rose and went to the bar. “Me, too. Keep your door unlocked, though. We can get to each other faster if there’s no barriers.”
He came back with her Glock. Careful not to touch him, she gripped the handle he offered her. She checked the weapon and verified the load but stopped mid-check to stare.
Quaid was stacking the dishes. He loaded them on the rolling cart and moved the food trolley into the hallway. She tried to hear the conversation with the guard, but gave up. Quaid returned to the table and grabbed the burner phone.
“Good night, Alanna. Leave the lights on.”
“Understood.” She watched the way he pivoted, the play of his pants and shirt on a moving body, and swallowed a ton of nagging questions. And he did dishes, too?
What you see is what you get.
And yet, she still couldn’t reconcile the differences between rich man and warrior. It wouldn’t play for her. None of it did.
&&&&&&&&&&
QM International Situation Brief: 07:00:00 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Threat active. All personnel accounted for. Security Level 3 in effect. ?
Alanna slept with her clothes on and one hand on her gun.
The Levi jeans and simple gray stretch top that Niles had brought fit to perfection and left her comfortable enough to sleep deeply.
She didn’t even want to guess how he figured out her bra and underwear size.
They fit, too, and were in her preferred color.
Black. She managed a five-hour rest before waking with her mind racing and stomach tight in agitation. She hadn’t woken like this for years.
Rising, she quickly did a stretch routine, then her daily ‘pretend she was pretty’ makeover in the bathroom. Niles again. And he had all those products right, too. Was it possible he cracked her travel bag at QM?
“Quit fussing, Al.” She finished and silently went to the living room. The suite was too quiet. Was Quaid still sleeping? Couldn’t be. There was a breakfast cart beside the dining room table.
Movement caught her eye, and she pulled the ivory pleated drapes covering the dining room windows.
Quaid.
In the pool.
She’d never admit she couldn’t turn away.
His powerful strokes rapidly took him from one end of the twenty-foot pool to the other.
His muscles flexed and relaxed, his body responding to his every direction.
Her breathing hitched, and she put a hand to her throat.
He was naked. Unable to turn away, Alanna eyed the tanned skin, the perfect physique, the precise movements…
his beige print speedo molded to his frame. He wasn’t naked.
He irritated her to idiocy, but she appreciated the attractive picture he made. Right? It was the proximity and the danger. Forcing herself to turn her back on the view, Alanna stared at the living room suite.
The big screen television was on mute. An iPad and a burner phone lay on the dining room table.
Quaid must have been up for awhile. The smell of fresh bread, coffee, and bacon assailed her nose.
Lifting the lid, she took a croissant and walked back to the window to watch Quaid.
He stood at the edge of the pool, toweling off.
Alanna cataloged the dark scruffy beard, the dark hair on his chest, and appraised the blond hair. The man dyed his hair. Why?
But the appraisal had consequences.
She closed her eyes. A hot flash raced over her skin. Their bodies rolling into the bushes replayed. Blushing, she turned her back to the glass and stuffed a piece of croissant in her mouth.
Click!
She started, turning to the cart.
The force of the explosion blew her backwards amidst the shattering glass.
Tumbling. Tumbling. Splash.
Screaming as she went under, the air escaped her lungs. Her back hit the bottom of the pool. Another wave of pain made her gulp in water.
Disoriented and choking, she panicked.