Aegis Security 02 - Sinful Surrender (8 page)

Brian wasn’t ready to share any info with the local cops yet. Not until he talked to Grace. And her brother. “Jake Ryder has more than a few enemies. His sister’s safety is his top priority.”

The detective harrumphed, obviously knowing Brian wasn’t ready to divulge details. Turning away, he signaled another man in a suit standing near the door.

The other man rushed over and shook Brian’s hand. “I’m Walt Siegfried, manager of the resort. We’re going to move you to one of the villas for the duration of your stay.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Grace said in a clipped tone, moving up on Brian’s right. “I’ve just decided it’s time to leave.”

Brian glanced at her. Her jaw was hard, her shoulders tight, and she wasn’t daring to look his way, but he could tell by the way she was staring at the manager that she was pissed.

The manager glanced to the detective. “Um…”

“Ms. Ryder,” the detective said, zeroing in on Grace. “We’ve got a major storm moving in. Up to fourteen inches expected by morning. I-70’s already shut down west of here. If you leave now, you’re going to get caught in it. Let the hotel put you up in one of the villas while we sort all this out. Between your private detail here and the tighter security in the VIP villas, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

A muscle ticked in Grace’s jaw, and she crossed her arms over the notebook plastered to her chest. “Fine. But I’m going there alone.”

Brian grasped Grace at the elbow and gently tugged her away from the group. “Excuse us for a minute, would you, gentlemen?”

Grace tried to yank her arm from his grip but he only held her tighter. He pulled her into the corner of the room and worked to keep his voice quiet when he said, “You can be pissed at me all you want, but be smart about how you do it.”

Grace wriggled her arm free and crossed her arms over her chest again, careful not to make eye contact. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Yes, you are. And after this”—he nodded toward the demolished room—“you’re not going anywhere without me. Tomorrow you can call whoever you want and get someone else in here to watch over you, but tonight I’m here to make sure nothing happens to you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. So get used to it.”

He moved away from her, knowing he was leaving her seething, but pushed it from his mind. When he reached the detective again, he nodded toward the resort manager. “We’ll take that villa.”

“Perfect.” The manager pulled a two-way radio from his belt. “I’ll make sure it’s all set up for you.”

As the manager moved toward the hall, Brian focused on the detective again. “Now, about those surveillance tapes.”

“We’ll get you what we can,” the detective answered. “But so far it looks like the break-in happened from the patio. Come over here and let me show you.”

He followed the detective to the sliding glass door, and behind him heard Grace huff and drop to sit on one of the only unbroken chairs in the room. He knew she was mad, and she had every right to be, but right now the only thing that mattered was keeping her safe. Something he should have been thinking about long before this.

Jake Ryder was a dead man. But he’d have to get in line and wait, because Grace had plans to kill Brian Walker first.

Standing in the middle of the marble bathroom in the villa the hotel had given her, Grace pressed both hands against her forehead. The room spun, and her stomach felt like it was about to hurl up what little she’d eaten today. She couldn’t believe what a complete idiot she’d been. Brian had lied to her. Seduced her. Then fucked her. All for what? To get close to her because her brother had
ordered
him to? She was nothing but a stupid job to him.

“Come with me, Gracie.”

Goddamn it. If she’d paid attention to the signs—to the way he held himself, the way his gaze noticed everything happening around him, to the fact he’d called her by her real name last night
before
she’d told him who she was, she’d have known he was a liar and a cheat.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized plotting his demise probably counted as premeditated murder, but she didn’t care. He worked for her brother. He wasn’t a professional skier like he’d told her. He was a stupid Aegis operative.

Tightness pressed down on her chest, a tightness she didn’t like. She waved her hands in front of her face and tried to suck back air. Dropping to sit on the edge of the tub, she breathed deep so she didn’t pass out. That would make things better, wouldn’t it? Prove to him and her son-of-a-bitch brother that she actually did need protecting?

The rage slowly receded, and she focused on the push and pull of her lungs, on the sound of the wind picking up outside and the hum of the heater somewhere in the ceiling. One night. She could get through one night without killing him. Once the storm cleared, she’d head home, forget she ever met Brian Walker, then deal with her brother later. When there weren’t any sharp instruments within reach.

Her phone buzzed, and she crossed the room and snatched it from the counter. Unknown number. If it was her brother…

“Hello?” she answered curtly.

“I want to set up a scene in one of the fantasy rooms tonight, but I need another partner. Do you know if Jessica’s working?”

Grace lost it. Just completely lost it. “This isn’t the fucking Playhouse. Check the goddamn number, prick.”

She punched End on her phone, totally dissatisfied she couldn’t slam the thing down and really make a statement. A knock sounded on the door, and Grace’s head came up.

“You didn’t fall in in there, did you?” Brian teased, using the same line she’d tossed at him last night. Then, less amused, “Get off the phone and come out here, Grace. We need to talk.”

Grace’s fingers turned white around the phone in her hand. Oh yeah, they needed to talk. She just didn’t trust herself not to let him have it.

Composing herself as best she could, Grace pulled open the door only to find the master bedroom was empty. Glass clinked from the direction of the living area, and, knowing she couldn’t hide forever, she lifted her chin and headed that way.

The villa was exquisite. Even in her questionable mental state, Grace could see that the accommodations here were head and shoulders above what she’d had at the hotel. Travertine floors, marble counters, tall, arching windows that looked out at the snowy mountains, a river-rock fireplace in both the living area and master bedroom, and plush, comfortable furnishings a person could sink into after a long day of skiing. Their villa was situated on the edge of the property, and out the back windows, you couldn’t even see the other buildings around them. It was a tiny slice of heaven in the middle of what Grace considered her own personal hell.

Brian was standing in the adjacent kitchen when Grace stepped into the room. A fire roared in the fireplace and snow fell outside the steadily darkening windows. The TV caught her attention across the room, the image paused on a view of the hallway outside her room in the main part of the hotel.

He was watching the security tapes. Clenching her jaw, Grace dropped into a leather chair and reminded herself to stay calm. One night. She could get through one night without committing murder.

“Here, drink this.”

Brian shoved a glass in her hand filled with rich, amber liquid, then moved around behind her and sat on the couch.

Grace sniffed and grimaced. “I don’t like alcohol.”

“Drink it. You need something to settle you down.”

Her hackles came up. “Who do you think—”

“Grace.” He exhaled a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just drink it, okay?”

If he’d been all domineering and demanding like he’d been back in her room when he’d told her in no uncertain terms that they were staying in the villa tonight, she’d have refused. No one ordered her around. But she didn’t hear that. Instead there was a frustration in his voice that for some reason counteracted her rage and reminded her that killing him would only get her life in prison.

She took a sip. Winced at the taste. When Brian said, “All of it,” she tipped her head back and swallowed.

Whiskey. Blech. She really hated hard alcohol more than she hated wine. Wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her white sweater, she set the glass on the coffee table in front of her and muttered, “Happy?”

“No, Grace. I’m not happy.” He set his drink on the coffee table, leaned forward on a sigh, then rested his forearms on his knees. Reaching up with one hand, he rubbed his forehead. “Contrary to what you think, I didn’t plan this.”

Bullshit.
Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t answer. Didn’t trust herself.

“Look,” he said, dropping his arm. “We’re stuck here for the night, so we might as well make the best of it. I need to get some information from you about what’s been going on at home.”

Grace crossed her arms over her chest and propped her stocking feet on the coffee table. “If you’re my
assigned security detail
, then you should already know, now shouldn’t you?”

She was acting like a child. She knew it. From the exasperated expression on Brian’s face, he knew it too. Why was this bugging her so much? Not just because he’d lied to her. After all, she’d lied to him too, hadn’t she? Her emotions were all over the map, and she didn’t know why. All she knew for certain was that he’d hurt her, more than he should have been able to in such a short amount of time. And she didn’t know how to deal with that.

“Your brother called me four days ago and said you were headed to Vail and that you were having issues with a stalker back home. Random harassment stuff—e-mail, phone calls, suspicious packages left at your house. He told me the police were on it and that you’d come here to get away from it all.”

That was all true. “What are you asking me?”

He reached for a notepad and pen from the coffee table. “Do you have any reason to believe someone followed you here?”

“Besides you?”

He tipped his head and shot her a look, and pinpricks of guilt needled her. He was just doing his job—at least now he was. She could go on acting like a petulant child, or she could get this over with so she could hide in her room until morning.

“No,” she said, dropping her feet from the coffee table, unfolding her arms, and shifting more upright in her chair. “Until that break-in in my room, I’d pretty much forgotten about the whole thing.”

“How did Ryder know about your stalker? Did you tell him?”

Grace huffed. “Tell Jake some guy’s been harassing me? Are you mad? He’d do exactly what he did—send one of his operatives to babysit me.”

“Well, someone told him,” Brian said, ignoring the dig.

Someone had told him. That was clearly a given. “It could have been Holly. But it was probably my mother.”

“Who’s Holly?” He jotted a note.

“My friend. We write together. Wrote together,” she corrected. “Holly and I have been cowriting songs for several years. She’s the one who encouraged me to come up here and get away from everything so I could finish my contract.”

“Tell me about the contract.”

“What about it?”

“How did you land it?”

This was all shit Grace did not want to get into, but she knew it was inevitable. “Two years ago, I was on that reality music show,
American Superstar
. I got booted off in the third round. Tate Kendrick, the guy from the bar last night, was one of the judges. They have a strict policy about contestants dating judges, but after I was no longer in the running, he asked me out. It was very casual, we only went out a few times after the show aired and ended, and the media made more out of it than it actually was. I didn’t think much of it, then about six months ago, Royalty Records approached me and offered a contract for twelve new songs. They’re Kendrick’s record label. He put in a good word for me, played them some of my stuff. I guess they were impressed.”

“But not with your friend Holly?”

“Kendrick doesn’t know Holly.”

“Did you know Kendrick was going to be here this week?”

“No. I don’t keep tabs on him.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental that he is?”

Was he trying to insinuate that Kendrick was her stalker? “Tate Kendrick didn’t toss my room.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. That’s not his style.” When he pinned her with a look, she huffed. “Look, we didn’t have that kind of relationship. It wasn’t sexual, it was friendly. And he spent more time asking me about Aegis than anything else.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Probably because he’s had his own issues with stalkers and unpredictable bodyguards. His fans are intense.”

Brian looked back down at his notepad. “So he played Royalty Records clips of your performances on that reality show?”

“No.” Geez, Grace hated how this sounded. “When we were…dating, I played him one of the songs I’d written. That’s what he showed them.”

Brian’s hand paused against the notepad. “You wrote him a song?”

“No, I
played
him a song.”
I wrote you a song, jackass, and see how that turned out?

The hurt was coming back. The hurt that spurred her anger all over again. She shifted in her seat and told herself to just get through this.

“So why did you get voted off the show?”

He wasn’t looking at her. He was jotting notes on that piece of paper as if he were Sherlock-fucking-Holmes, and as Grace studied him in that black Henley and the loose-fitting, faded jeans, her heart did an involuntary flip. One that pissed her off even more.

“I don’t like singing in front of people.”

He glanced her way. “You didn’t have a problem singing for me this morning.”

No, she hadn’t, had she? Grace’s heart flipped again, and, quickly, she averted her eyes from his sexy sapphire gaze.

“So that means something had to have happened,” Brian went on. “What happened on the show, Grace?”

“Nothing. I already told you.”

“Something had to have happened.”

Why was he pushing this angle so hard? Frustration welled inside her. “I didn’t like the cameras, okay? I don’t like people invading my privacy. They were at the house all the time. They put us up in one of those big mansions in the Hollywood hills, and they filmed every moment. I don’t like people hovering.”