 
# The Wedding Trap

### Second Service

## Adrienne Bell

### Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Thanks for Reading!

Sneak Peeks

About the Author
**Copyright** 2013 by Adrienne Bell

* * *

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written consent from the author/publisher.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

# Acknowledgments

Nothing is ever created alone. Big thanks to Rachael for being my ideal reader. To Martha for sharing her wisdom and experience. To Sophie for all her encouragement and feedback. To Lynn and Lisa for everything. I never could have done this without you. And to Tom, you're not just my sweetheart, you're also one hell of a brainstorming partner.

# Chapter 1

"I'm thinking of killing off Charlie," Beth Bradley said, leaning back into the overstuffed chair in the corner of Isobel Munoz's hotel suite.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. For real this time."

"You've been saying that since we were in the seventh grade."

Beth grabbed her champagne from the side table. She twirled the crystal flute between her fingers as she looked out the window at a magnificent view of the San Francisco Bay.

Isobel was right. Of course she was. She'd always been the one with her head screwed on straighter. And it showed. Isobel had earned better grades in school. She'd landed a better job. It wasn't even worth going into how superior her taste in men was.

"You're right," Beth conceded. "At the very least, I've got to break up with him."

"Before the wedding?" Isobel asked, turning slightly so the seamstress could continue pinning the hem of her gown. Her voice was thick with disbelief. Beth didn't blame her. After all, how many times had they had this conversation?

"Why not? It's as good a time as any. Anyway, what difference does it make? I'm going to be all alone on your wedding day. I might as well be honest about why."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything. I'll just wait right over here while you call your mother and tell her the news."

A half-panicked laugh slipped from Beth's lips. She turned her head away from the window, meeting Isobel's gaze in the full-length mirror that had been set up in the spacious sitting room.

"Yeah, maybe after is better," Beth said.

"At the very least, it's more realistic. Let's be honest, Beth, you're not giving up on Charlie at the moment you need him most," Isobel said.

Beth sighed and took another sip of her champagne. Just a sip. She'd only had half a banana and a handful of grapes for breakfast. It had been crackers and carrot sticks for lunch. Come hell or low blood sugar, she was determined to fit into her bridesmaid dress Sunday morning.

"You're right," Beth said. "As always."

Isobel smiled at her in the mirror. There was no malice in her eyes. If anybody knew how Beth's mind worked, it was her dearest friend.

"I think that just about does it," the seamstress said.

"Thank you so much." Isobel turned around to face Beth. "Well, what do you think?"

Tears welled up in Beth's eyes. She couldn't help it. Sure, she'd already seen Isobel in the elegant ivory gown at other fittings, and she'd cried at every one of those too. This round of last minute alterations was no different.

"You look just beautiful," Beth choked out.

Isobel's eyes turned glassy too. "Oh God, why did I ask you to be my maid of honor? If this is how we are today, how the hell are we going to be on Sunday? The second I see you crying, I'm going to start."

"I won't cry at the ceremony. I promise."

"Yeah, right. I'll believe you've finally killed off Charlie before I believe that."

"It could happen," Beth said with a smile.

The moment was broken as Beth's phone started to skitter across the tabletop next to her. She reached out to grab it, but stilled her hand the second that she saw the name on the screen.

"Are you going to get that?" Isobel asked.

"It's my mother." Beth waited for the call to go to voicemail.

Isobel shook her head. "You know she'll only call right back."

"Maybe she won't this—"

The phone began to vibrate again.

"Time." Beth let her head fall forward before she looked up at Isobel. "Sorry."

"Don't bother apologizing to me. You're the one I feel sorry for." Isobel turned toward the seamstress and started going over the final alterations as Beth hit the accept button.

"Hi, Mom," Beth said.

"So you're not taking calls from your mother any longer?" the familiar, guilt-inducing voice said on the other end of the line.

"No. Of course not. My phone was across the room. I just couldn't get to it in time."

"So you say. I was just calling to tell you that after a hellish plane trip, your father and I have finally made it to the hotel. Where are you now, dear?"

"I'm in Isobel's room. She's having her final fitting."

"Oh, how wonderful. Tell me what room she's in, and I'll come right up."

Beth shot to her feet. "No."

There was a pause on the other end. "What do you mean, no?"

"Uh, I just mean that there's a lot of, um, stuff going on in here. It's a little hectic." Beth put her champagne down. There was no way that she was going to let her mother blow into Isobel's room and ruin her friend's lovely moment with her own drama. "How about I meet you down in the lobby instead? You can tell me all about your trip over a nice, relaxing glass of wine?"

A long silence stretched on the other end of the line. Beth held her breath.

"A glass of wine does sound nice," her mother conceded.

"Great. I'll meet you down there in five minutes."

Beth hit the end button before her mother could change her mind.

"I have to go," Beth said.

"I heard," Isobel said. "I'll come down and save you just as soon as I can."

"Are you sure? You could hide out up here all night if you want. There's no reason for both of us to get pulled into this pit of suffering."

"That's what friends are for," Isobel said with a shrug and a smile. "Besides, I told Jordan that I would meet him down there for drinks before dinner with the family this evening. And you're family as far as I'm concerned."

Tears started to well up again in Beth's eyes. "I'd hug you, but I'm afraid I'd get you all wrinkly."

"Love you too," Isobel said.

Beth started for the door, but Isobel stopped her. "Hey, you might need that," she said, pointing to Beth's purse next to her half-full champagne glass.

"Ah, thank you," she said, and went back over to get the purse. She paused for a second and looked down at her champagne. What the hell? She could use a little bracer before going down there. She emptied it in three quick gulps.

Beth rushed down the long, ivory-papered hall to the elevator. She hit the down button twice and waited.

And waited.

The Kensington Hotel was the Bay Area's oldest and most elegant hotel—emphasis on the oldest. Usually, that was a big part of its charm. But right now, waiting for the single elevator in the place to creak its way up to the fifth floor, it felt more maddening than charming.

Beth glanced toward the stairwell. It probably wasn't the best idea. She was feeling more than a little light-headed from downing that champagne on an empty stomach, and with her luck, the elevator doors would open the second she set foot on the stairs.

She glanced down at her phone. Five minutes had already passed since she'd hung up on her mother, which meant that she'd be down there now, arms crossed and counting every extra second that she was late.

Beth went for the stairs. She was only a little wobbly on her heels as she tore down the first two flights.

Her eyes were on her feet as she rounded the curve on the third, and she smashed into a wall. At least that was what it felt like. Her purse flew from her hands. The contents spilled out all over the floor as she stumbled back a step. Two strong hands wrapped around her arms, keeping her from tipping over and landing on her ass.

Beth looked up into the most gorgeous pair of ocean blue eyes she had ever seen. Her jaw dropped open as she sucked in a breath. The man standing in front of her was perfect—or damn near it.

He stood a little over six feet tall. All his features—his cheeks and chin, his nose and brow—were strong without being sharp. Even so, his lips were the only part of him that looked any kind of soft. The barest hint of stubble outlined his jaw, but it somehow fit with his finely tailored designer suit and his tousled, dark, short-cropped hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a long moment had passed.

Oh God. She'd been staring at him.

"Yeah, I'm...um..." Great. It wasn't enough that she'd been ogling the poor man; now she couldn't even string a sentence together. Beth snapped her gaze down to her feet and saw everything she had been carrying strewn across the landing. That brought her back to herself. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he said, finally letting go of her arms.

Beth bent and started picking up everything that had flown from her purse—her wallet, a pack of gum, her compact. She was surprised when he did the same.

"No, I'm really sorry. I was in a hurry and wasn't watching where I was going. My mind was someplace else. My mother is waiting for me in the lobby, and she always makes me a little crazy. Only this time I'm the one making myself crazy because I'm not sure if I should tell her the truth about something, or if I should just keep lying. Well, at least through the weekend. And..."

Beth glanced up to see him on one knee, holding her lipstick and a pack of tissues in his open hand. His eyes were steady on her, but the expression in them was guarded.

"And, now you think I'm crazy." Beth grabbed her things and stuffed them back in her purse. She ran a hand down her skirt, smoothing it out, as she stood. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. Damn, even his voice was sexy, all low and rumbly. "And, I understand."

The mystery man started back up the stairs, leaving her dumbfounded on the landing.

"You do?" she called after him.

He didn't turn around. "Everybody's mom drives them crazy."

Beth took a few deep breaths before continuing down the stairs. By the time she finally made it to the lobby, she was well and truly late.

She found her mother sitting on one of the antique Edwardian sofas. Her back was straight, and her arms were crossed. Not a good sign. She arched her brows as Beth neared.

"Sorry I made you wait. I had a little accident on the stairs," Beth tried.

"Of course you did, dear. It's always something."

Beth sighed as she plopped down next to her mother. "Where's Dad?"

"Your father decided to stay in the room. He wanted to rest before dinner. The traffic from the airport was just awful. I don't know how you put up with it every day."

"Well, it is five o'clock on Thursday."

Her mother's brows pulled together. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying that it isn't always that bad."

"If you say so."

Beth closed her eyes and bit into her lower lip. It wouldn't do any good to argue. Not if she wanted this evening to get any better.

She blew out a long breath and pasted a wide smile on her face. "Did you want to go to the bar and get that glass of wine now?"

Her mother waved her hand. "There's no need. Someone already went to get it for me."

"Someone went for you? Who?"

Her mother lifted her gaze to a spot across the wide marble lobby. Beth turned her head to see who she was looking at.

The groan that she'd been trying so hard to hold back since sitting down slipped out.

"Oh no, Mother. Don't tell me you asked _him_."

"I didn't ask him, darling. He offered. Besides you should be thanking me. If you play your cards right this weekend, you might just be able to get him to take you back."

"What are you talking about? I don't want him back," Beth said in a rushed whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's handsome. He's successful. He's—"

"A total sleaze bag."

Her mother shot her a piercing look. "You don't seem to mind his brother marrying Isobel."

Of course, she didn't. Jordan Masterson was a good man. He was honest and kind. Everything that his jerk of a brother, Spencer, wasn't.

There wasn't time to explain any of that to her mother before the man in question stepped in front of them holding two glasses of wine. He handed one to her mother.

"Thank you, Spencer darling," she said. "Won't you sit down with us for a while? Beth here was just saying how happy she was to see you."

"Is that right?" he asked, quirking a brow. He shot Beth a greasy look that made her empty stomach churn. Too bad there wasn't anything in there to puke up all over his shiny shoes.

"Hello, Spencer," Beth said through gritted teeth.

She knew this moment was coming. It was unavoidable. She was the maid of honor. He was the best man. But somehow she'd convinced herself that she'd be able to avoid her jerk-off ex-boyfriend. At least until the rehearsal dinner.

He slowly looked her up and down. His smirk said he wasn't impressed. "You look...well."

Beth's smile tightened. The guy with the spiked blonde hair and popped collar thought he could judge her appearance?

Still, the night wasn't going to get any better if she threw gasoline on the fire. Somebody had to take the high road. It might as well be her.

"How's your brother doing?" she asked.

"Great."

"And your parents?"

"They're fine."

"That's good."

There. She knew her manners. She could be polite. Hopefully, that would set the tone between them for the rest of the weekend.

"I saw that you checked into your room alone, Beth. No date for the wedding, eh?" he asked.

Or not.

"Unfortunately, my boyfriend will be out of town on business this weekend."

And there it was. How easily she caved. It looked like she wouldn't be killing Charlie off after all.

"Ah, yes. The elusive Charlie," her mother said. "I was hoping to meet him during this visit."

"So was I. We've been hearing about this boyfriend of yours for six months now," Spencer said, a wicked smile curling his lips. "Ever since you and I split."

"Yeah, well, his job keeps him really busy."

"Too busy to meet his girlfriend's family?" her mother asked.

"Oh, don't feel singled out, Mrs. Bradley. Nobody I know seems to have met him either."

Beth glanced down at her nails. "Isobel has."

"That's funny," he said. "She couldn't seem to find any pictures of him when I asked her. Not on her phone. Not on your Facebook page."

Beth's heart started to race. "He...he doesn't like to have his picture taken."

"That sounds believable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Beth asked, leaning forward, her hands visibly shaking.

"I don't know, Beth. You tell me."

Beth drew in a sharp breath. She didn't have to take Spencer's crap. Even if it was the truth.

_Especially_ since it was the truth.

Beth stood up. "I'm going to go get myself a drink."

"Yeah, why don't you do that," Spencer said.

She shot him a glare that only widened his smile. He spread his arms behind him on the sofa.

A little grunt slipped from her lips as she turned. She was only a few steps away when she heard the staccato beat of her mother's heels behind her.

"Beth, wait," her mother said.

Beth only stopped once she'd turned the corner and was out of Spencer's line of sight.

"Why did you let him weasel his way onto that couch? You had to know he only wanted to torment me."

"Now, darling." For a moment, Beth was drawn in by the look of real compassion in her mother's eyes. "At least now you know that he still thinks about you."

The moment quickly died.

"I don't want Spencer thinking about me." Impotent rage filled her chest. What was the point of having a mother if she wasn't going to take your side? "Did you know that he once told me that he wouldn't have had to break up with me if I had only lost a couple of pounds?"

"Well, it's just a couple of pounds, dear. I'm sure with a little willpower you can get them off in no time."

Beth threw her hands up toward the ceiling. "I'm walking away now, Mother."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," Beth called out behind her. It didn't matter where she went. She just had to get away.

She thought for a moment about going back up to Isobel's room, but quickly discarded the idea. It would be selfish of her to bring down her friend's happiness with her own petty problems.

And they were petty. Beth knew it. Just like she knew she had brought all of this grief on herself.

She strode past the bar and headed straight for the set of double doors at the end of the hall. If she just got some air, maybe she could think a little clearer.

She had gotten herself into this mess. Now she was going to have to figure a way out.

# Chapter 2

Alex Tanner jumped over the short fence that separated the valet lot from the rest of the Kensington Hotel parking. The cherry red BMW wasn't hard to find. It was at the far edge of the lot, right up against the edge of the perfectly landscaped hill.

He did a quick scan of the area before approaching the car. There was a cluster of people just outside the hotel entrance. The small crowd that was milling around down by the corner looked like they were waiting for a bus. A woman walking through the small garden to the right of the lot was the only person close enough to see his face, but she was busy looking down at her own feet, seemingly too absorbed by her own troubles to concern herself with him.

Alex kept walking and pressed the button on the keychain device in his pocket. Every car alarm in a ten foot radius silently disabled. The button next to it unlocked the doors. A little B&E had never been easier thanks to his friends over at DARPA.

Alex opened the driver's side door, keeping one leg on the ground outside as he sat down on the leather seat. He flipped both sun visors down. Nothing.

He popped open the glove box. Car manual. Registration. Insurance information. That was it.

He wasn't surprised. The chance of finding anything useful in the best man's car had been a long shot. There were three more vehicles to check after this, and, though Alex wasn't holding out much hope for any of them, he still had to try.

His best bet had been the rooms, and he'd already had the opportunity to go through three of the four—the groom's, the best man's, and the maid of honor's. That only left the bride's. She had been the only one who hadn't left her room today.

But a quick glance at the hotel restaurant reservation book had shown that she would be out for dinner in a little over an hour.

Not that Alex expected to discover anything. Every piece of information they had on Isobel Munoz indicated that she had little contact with her father's family in Venezuela. It was unlikely that she had any knowledge that her uncle was using her wedding as a cover to buy intelligence on the US strategic oil reserves from a leak in the CIA.

Unlikely, but not impossible.

That's why the Agency had shipped him all the way out from Virginia to partner with an old friend in the Department of Homeland Security on this one. The DHS was taking care of Munoz. With the man's violent past and strong ties to the most extreme anti-American factions of the Venezuelan government, it surprised Alex that he had been allowed into the country at all. But apparently the DHS had felt that it was worth the risk to catch him in the act on American soil. That way the international community would have to accept his capture.

His friend John had this place covered. Besides the usual visual and audio surveillance, John and his team were wired to intercept and filter through every cellular transmission inside the walls of the Kensington Hotel.

Alex's role in the mission was clear. He was here to find the CIA leak, plain and simple. The Agency didn't mind sharing information and helping out the Department of Homeland Security in taking down Munoz, but when it came to double agents, the Agency insisted on taking care of those on their own.

He took one more quick glance around the car. He wasn't expecting to see any familiar names on the Munoz-Masterson invite list, but he wasn't ruling anything out. Besides, he had a feeling that this was as close to exciting as this assignment was going to get. Without a cover to insert himself into the wedding preparations, he would be spending the next three days sitting in the lobby doing some very basic recon work.

It wouldn't be the most thrilling weekend that he'd ever spent, but—

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Alex snapped his head up and looked out of the windshield. The woman who had been strolling through the garden was now standing in front of the car. It wasn't just any woman. It was the one from the stairwell. Beth Bradley. Isobel Munoz's maid of honor.

She stood with her legs braced, fists on her hips, brows pulled together. Alex knew she was trying her best to be threatening with the aggressive posture, but there was nothing menacing in the woman. She was all round curves, from her flushed cheeks to the swell of her hips. A long chestnut-brown ponytail bobbed behind her.

He could tell the instant that she recognized him. Her shoulders fell. Her expression softened, though there were still more than a few suspicious crinkles around the edges of her big brown eyes.

"Hello, again." Alex gave her a smile as he slid back out onto the pavement. "I just needed to get something out of my car."

"This isn't your car," she said. There was no quiver in her voice now.

Damn.

Her eyes were still focused on his mouth, and her tongue snaked out to wet her bottom lip. She felt an attraction to him, but she wasn't blinded by it. Still, it was worth a shot to use it against her.

He widened his smile. A few more of those tension lines disappeared.

"Of course it is," he said with practiced authority.

"No, it's not." She was more sure. "Not unless there are two bright red Beemers with TOO HOTT vanity plates. This is Spencer Masterson's car."

Alex kept his body loose as he shut the car door. He crossed his arms and leaned his back against the BMW.

"That would explain why I didn't find what I was looking for," he said.

She held his gaze for a brief second before a look of real concern came over her face. She looked down at her feet and took a step away from the car. He could see the path of her thoughts clear enough. If he wasn't the owner of this car, then what did that make him?

Alex didn't try to guide her decision either way. It was a damn pain in the ass being caught breaking into a car, but he'd been in worse situations. Much worse. He could deal with one neurotic bridesmaid.

"Listen," she said, holding up her hands. "I don't care what you were doing with Spencer's car. I really don't. Whatever it was, you couldn't have picked a more deserving jerk to do it to. Hell, I was imagining keying the damned thing as I was walking over here."

"Is that right?"

She glanced up at him, a hint of a guilty smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She was cute. Not a bombshell, not long-legs-and-short-skirt gorgeous. But a certain vulnerability combined with all of her soft features in a strangely attractive way.

"I wouldn't really have done it," she said.

"Of course not."

Silence fell between them as it became obvious that she wasn't going to scream her head off for the police, and he wasn't going to pull a weapon. Her shoulders relaxed even more as a calculating look appeared in her eyes. At first, it was barely a glimmer of an idea, but Alex watched it grow until she was staring as boldly at him as he was at her.

She bit her lower lip, and teased it back and forth between her teeth. It was obvious that she wanted to say something, was damned near desperate to say it, but she needed to build up the courage to get it out first. Alex waited; he didn't have to be anywhere for an hour, and he was starting to find this woman more than a little amusing.

It took her another half minute before she'd gathered enough courage to open her mouth. "I was wondering if you might consider doing me a favor."

"A favor?"

"Yeah. It's not a big thing. Well, not unless you consider lying a big thing. But I figured that since you're a..." She waved her hand in a lazy circle in the direction of the car instead of saying the words.

Alex changed his mind. She was _damned_ amusing.

"Well, anyway, I figured you might not mind," she continued.

"What did you have in mind?"

"It would only take five minutes of your time." She glanced back toward the entrance to the hotel, before risking a step closer to him. "Ten, tops."

A smile threatened to pull at the corner of Alex's mouth, but he held it back.

"Go on," he said.

"I've gotten myself into a little bit of trouble. Just a little, nothing major. Not like..." She waved her hand at him and the car again. "But still. And I might be able to use you to help me get out of it."

"Use me? How's that?"

"I just need you to pretend to be a guy named Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"For five minutes. All you have to do is walk into the hotel with me, hold my hand a little, introduce yourself to my mother and a few other people, and say that you're terribly sorry, but you're going out of town on business for the rest of the weekend. That's it."

She smiled at him expectantly, her eyes wide as she waited for his answer.

Alex pushed off the car.

"You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your mother?"

"And my ex-boyfriend, Spencer."

"This Spencer?" he asked, inclining his head toward the Beemer.

She scrunched up her nose and two little lines creased the space between her brows. "Like I said, I've gotten myself in a little bit of trouble."

"And you think they'll believe it."

"Of course, they'll believe it. You make a perfect Charlie. You're tall. In that suit you look like you're incredibly successful. And you're every bit as gorgeous as I've described him."

Alex arched a brow.

She didn't blush. She didn't even bat an eye. She was too lost in her plan.

"Like you don't know it," she added.

Alex took a step toward her. She didn't move away.

"How do you know I won't do something to hurt you between here and the entrance to the hotel?"

She shrugged. "You would have done it already. Truly violent people go to violence first. They usually don't stand around and chat for a while."

"That sounds like the voice of experience."

"I got mugged once. The guy didn't stick around to help me pick up my stuff after he'd slammed me to the ground and snatched my purse."

Her tone was matter-of-fact. She wasn't fishing for pity, but Alex still didn't like the image that popped up in his mind of her smacking against the pavement. He didn't like it one bit.

"And what happens if I say no to this little proposal of yours?"

"Well..." Her voice trailed off. This was obviously something that she hadn't considered. "Then I tell everyone that I saw you breaking into Spencer's car. I'll call the police."

"Blackmail?"

"Yeah," she said, tilting her head back to look up at him, her wide smile completely free of guile. "I guess so."

"Then it looks like I don't have much of a choice, do I, Miss..."

"Bradley." She stuck out her hand. "Beth Bradley."

There was an expectant look in her big brown eyes as he slid his hand into hers.

"It would probably be better for both of us if I stayed just Charlie."

"Of course."

"You're the most unusual blackmailer I've ever dealt with." He let his grip on her hand linger.

"I get that a lot."

Beth liked the feel of Charlie's hand in hers a little too much. Enough that she had to remind herself that he wasn't really Charlie.

Of course, he wasn't. No one was. Charlie was nothing but a desperate invention, a fantasy. But it was strange how perfectly this stranger fit into the mold her mind had made for him. It was as if for a brief moment her imagination had sprung to life. Just long enough to save her ass from a weekend's worth of torture and humiliation.

Charlie walked with her across the parking lot, his grip strong and his stride confident. His skin felt warm against hers.

Damn. Was she really so hard up for human contact that holding hands with a stranger was enough to give her the sizzles?

It appeared so.

She hadn't known what to think when she'd found him breaking into Spencer's car. He sure didn't look like a car thief in his finely tailored suit. But what did she know of criminals?

Not that it mattered what he was. All that mattered was that he was playing along. She didn't care how he made his piles of money as long as he helped her out. Hell, if this went well, she might personally hand him the keys to Spencer's car. Of course, that wasn't likely if they didn't get their stories straight before they got inside.

"I should probably tell you a little bit about yourself," she said, slowing her step.

"Okay." He didn't slow his, practically pulling her across the parking lot. He must have been anxious to get this over with. Not that she blamed him. If she had half a brain, she would be too.

"Your last name is Parker."

He kept going, but shot her a backward glance. "Parker? Charlie Parker?"

"Somebody asked, and I panicked. You should be thankful that I didn't go with Brown."

"I suppose I should."

"I'm no good under pressure."

"You seem to be doing just fine." A hint of humor laced his words.

He wasn't taking this seriously. Beth dug in her heels, refusing to take another step until he listened to her.

He stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

"You're in the music business," she said.

"Got it."

"That's why you work weekends. You fly all over the country listening to bands."

"Makes sense." He pulled on her arm, making her skitter across the pavement.

"You're from Iowa originally. Des Moines."

He gave one quick jerk on her arm, and she flew to his side. He let go of her hand just long enough to wrap his arm around the curve of her waist, and tucked her in close to his side. Beth's heart sped up.

Damn, she was hard up.

"I've got this," he said looking down into her eyes. "I promise."

Beth opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Isobel was right. It appeared there was a first time for everything.

A few more steps and the doorman opened the front door of the Kensington Hotel.

Pressed so tightly against him, Beth could feel how solid he was. She could feel every muscle moving under the material of his suit. He didn't seem tense or stressed. He felt totally natural, like he really was Charlie. He was a frighteningly good actor.

She, on the other hand, was a shaking bundle of nerves. What had seemed like the perfect plan in the parking lot now showed all of its flaws. There was no way anyone was going to believe that someone this cool and gorgeous was going out with her. She'd just cranked the dial on the humiliation predictor to eleven. What had she been thinking?

Simple answer—she hadn't been. She'd been pulled in by a pair of stormy blue eyes and the delicious temptation of flaunting them in front of Spencer.

Beth spotted everyone crowded around the same elegant couches that she'd stormed away from twenty minutes ago. Spencer was still there, as was her mother, but now they had company. Mr. and Mrs. Masterson were sitting on either side of Isobel. Jordan was standing next to his brother.

No one had looked her way yet. There was still time to come to her senses and call this whole thing off. If she turned and ran like hell, maybe she could make it out the door before anyone spotted her.

Charlie—or whoever the hell he really was—must have sensed her nervousness. He pulled her tighter. The pressure of his body against hers was strangely reassuring.

"Everything is going to be fine, Beth," he said. "Trust me."

Trust him? He was a common criminal. No, wait, that was unfair. He was obviously a very _un_ common criminal.

Why did he care how nervous she was? He was only here because she was blackmailing him, for heaven's sake.

She looked up and saw nothing but certainty in his smoky blue eyes. She stared into them for a second too long and ended up stumbling on the marble tile. The soles of her shoes squeaked loud enough to echo off of every marble column in the entryway. She had to cling tighter to Charlie's arm to keep from falling flat on her face.

So much for making a clean getaway. Every face was turned her way, including Spencer's. There was no turning back now.

Charlie gave her waist a reassuring pat as he guided her toward the group. A smile barely lifted the corners of his mouth—not too eager, not too fake, like he really was happy to meet her friends and family.

Hell, this actually might work.

It would only be five minutes. She could fake anything for five minutes.

Beth's smile didn't feel half as natural. She was tense enough to crack in two. And it only got worse the second her eyes locked with Isobel's.

Beth was going to have a lot of explaining to do after dinner tonight.

"Hi, everybody," Beth said. Despite her best intentions, her voice came out high pitched and squeaky. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Look who I found outside. Turns out Charlie was able to stop by for a second on his way to the airport."

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence and half a dozen faces staring at her and the incredibly handsome man at her side. Dear God, had no one believed her pathetic little lie? No one at all?

"Hello," Charlie said, breaking the silence. If he noticed the less than warm reception, he didn't show it.

"Charlie, this is my mom," Beth said.

Her mother popped up from the couch.

"Mr. Parker, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you," she said. "I was beginning to believe I never would."

"Mrs. Bradley," he said taking her hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

Beth could barely believe the hint of blush that appeared in her mother's cheeks. Damn, this guy was good.

Beth introduced him to the rest of group. She left Isobel for last.

"And of course, you remember Isobel," she said.

"How could I forget? It's wonderful to see you again."

Isobel's mouth hung open. It took her a half second to regain her composure and take Charlie's hand.

"Yeah...you too," Isobel said.

"He's on a really tight schedule this weekend, but he didn't want to miss wishing you well before the wedding," Beth said.

Charlie sat on an empty couch, pulling her down with him. Beth's smile became even more tense. What was he doing?

"It's not so tight," he said.

"No?" she said, raising her brows. "I really thought that it was."

"I have time."

"You do?" Her voice was high again. "Good. Good."

Beth glanced at Spencer. There was a questioning look in his eyes, but his lips were pressed together in a tight, flat line. That was fine. He might not totally believe her, but his silence was its own little victory.

"So, where are you off to this weekend?" her mother asked.

Beth was just about to open her mouth, when Charlie answered. "I was going to Los Angeles."

Beth's breath hitched in her throat.

"Was?" Her mother asked the question that was blaring in Beth's head.

"Beth told me how much grief she was getting for being dateless. It made me realize that I was losing sight of what was really important. It's obvious that I've been neglecting Beth, so I called in a favor and sent someone in my place."

Beth felt the blood draining from her face. "No, you didn't," she said.

He laughed a little. "Yes, I did."

"Why would you do that?" Beth asked. Across from her, Isobel cleared her throat. Beth drew in a deep breath and tried again. "It's just that I know how important this meeting is."

Everyone was staring at her. Dear God, she knew this had been a terrible idea. What was he doing? Was this his idea of revenge?

"You're far more important," he said.

"No, I'm not."

"I should be here for you."

Beth shook her head. "No need. Really. I'm totally fine without you."

"Of course, you should be," her mother butted in. She leaned forward and patted Charlie's knee. "We're all ecstatic to have you with us."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bradley," he said.

Beth shot Isobel a pleading look. There wasn't anyone else who could help her. But her friend just shook her head. The message was clear. You aren't getting out of this right now.

"You should be happy that Charles wants to spend time with you," her mother said. "Our Beth has always had a terrible ungrateful streak," she added to Charlie.

Beth stifled a groan.

"You must join us for dinner," Mrs. Masterson said.

There was a chorus of agreement from everyone except Spencer, who was now staring at her through narrowed eyes. Beth started to worry. Silence wasn't Spencer's style, not even in defeat.

"I don't think—"

"I would love to," Charlie said, talking over her words. "We might be a little late, though. I still need to get settled in our room."

_Our room_. Beth squeezed his hand as hard as she could. In her mind she fantasized that she was crushing all the bones of his fingers, but he was so solid that she doubted she was even pinching him.

Beth tried one more pleading look in Isobel's direction. The disbelief had faded a little from her friend's eyes, replaced by a sparkle of humor. Isobel just shrugged her shoulders.

_Hey, you got yourself into this mess_ , she seemed to say.

And she wasn't going to get out of it that easy. Her only hope was to regroup elsewhere.

Beth plastered another fake smile on her face and stood. "We'd better get you up to the room then, if we want to be back before dessert," she said.

Charlie rose, and pulled his arm around her waist again. Beth knew she should recoil from him. At the very least, she should feel some kind of cold shudder at his touch. He was a bad guy, after all. A car thief. A liar. A breaker of deals.

But she didn't.

Her heart started to pound in that same strong, hard rhythm it had found the first time she'd seen him. Her body, it seemed, didn't know from bad guys.

That was all right. That was why she had a head. It knew the difference. Right?

Beth heard the murmur of hushed voices rising up behind her as they walked away. She knew every eye would stay on them until they had disappeared inside the elevator.

"Not everyone believes us," Charlie whispered when they were halfway across the lobby.

Beth gawked at him. Who the hell was this guy?

"It doesn't matter what Spencer thinks," she said in rush. The only thing that mattered was figuring out what in the world she was going to do now.

"Of course it does." He stopped in front of the bronze elevator doors and pressed the up button. "Kiss me, and he'll believe it."

"What?"

"Don't think. Just do it." He pulled her closer.

Beth crushed against him. He was so close. He tilted his head down toward her.

She shouldn't be doing this. Wasn't she just trying to figure out how in the world she was going to get away from this crazy man? But she could do that in a minute. Right now, she had to save face. And if the only way to do that was to kiss the ridiculously hot man in front of her, well then, that was her cross to bear.

Beth had to stand on tiptoes to reach him. She pressed her lips lightly to his. Just a peck wouldn't hurt.

His arms wrapped around her back. Her breasts crushed against his hard chest. He deepened the kiss. She didn't pull away.

Beth draped her arms around his neck. Just for show. As long as she was going to do this, she might as well do it right.

He tilted his head, and his lips slid against hers. Beth's heart began to hammer. Dear God, she was actually kissing him. Her grasp around his neck tightened. Now she was the one that was pulling him closer.

She opened her mouth and drew his bottom lip inside. She felt his body tighten, certain parts more than others.

She was vaguely aware of a soft chime sounding, and then he was walking her backward. The lighting changed behind her closed eyes. And then the kiss stopped.

He slowly pulled his mouth from hers, but his arms stayed wrapped around her.

Beth opened her eyes.

They were in the elevator. The doors were closed.

She snatched her arms from around his neck and pulled away. She didn't stop moving until she was in the corner furthest from him.

"That ought to do it," he said with a languid smile. He leaned over and pressed the button for the second floor.

Beth's mouth hung open. For a second, words flew from her head. All she could do was stand and stare at him. At least she had the presence of mind to fold her arms over her chest. Maybe her body language could convey how upset she was, since her brain was stubbornly refusing to do its job.

She drew in a deep breath. And then another. Finally, she trusted herself enough to speak.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Not everybody believed you and I were a real couple."

"Not _that_."

He smiled, a wolfish grin that made her blood boil even as it drained some of the strength from her legs. "Then what?"

"I told you I only needed you for five minutes. You were supposed to follow my lead, and then leave."

He shrugged. "I decided that you needed more than that."

"You decided? What in the world makes you think you get to decide what I need?" She was really angry now. She must have been feeling a little better if she'd managed to muster that up. But Beth didn't get the satisfaction of seeing his reaction to it. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the hall. She rushed after him.

"I didn't have much of a choice. Imagine how awkward things would be when your friends and family kept seeing me hanging out in the lobby when I was supposed to be in LA."

Beth reached out and grasped his arm. He stopped mid-stride.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked.

"I have plans at this hotel this weekend too."

"That's ridiculous. Plans to do what?" she asked before she could think better. She let go of him and waved her arms in front of her. If only she could wipe him away so easily. "Nevermind. I don't want to know. Whatever it is, it can't be good. I don't want any part of it."

"Smart move."

She started down the hall. She didn't look behind her as she pulled the card key from her purse. She pushed the door open. If she had any kind of courage, she'd slam it closed and leave him out there. But she couldn't. Until they had some kind of agreement—one with very clear terms this time—she would worry about what he would do.

Would he go downstairs and tell everyone that she had asked him to play the part of her boyfriend? Or worse, would he go down there without her and continue to pretend to be Charlie? Either idea made her stomach clench into a tight knot.

She didn't relish the idea of being alone with him, but it was better than having this conversation out in the hall where anyone could overhear them.

She would just have to keep the discussion as brief as possible.

Beth let go of the door as soon as he stepped into the room. She stayed by the door, while he walked to the window, pulled back the gossamer thin drape, and glanced briefly outside. A second later, he let it drop. He obviously wasn't impressed with her parking lot view. Well, she couldn't afford the luxury suite that Isobel had reserved.

"You're going to have to change your plans," she said.

"Sorry. I can't do that."

He sat down in the high-backed upholstered chair. Beth didn't like the idea of him getting too comfortable in her room. But, on the other hand, since she couldn't exactly run over and stop him, she was glad he at least chose the chair. Maybe she was still feeling the effects of that kiss, but the thought of him lounging across her bed was far more distracting.

She crossed her arms. "Of course, you can. I'm sure that what you have planned for the Kensington this weekend will go down just as well at the St. Francis across the bay."

He shook his head. "I like it here better."

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I'm not asking. You are going to leave."

"Or what?" he asked, leaning forward.

Frustration bubbled up inside of her. She wanted to storm over and smack his face. Throw things at his head. Anything to force him to listen to reason. But the protective part of her brain held her back.

He might look calm and relaxed sitting in that chair, but there was something undeniably threatening about him. She should have recognized it earlier. Maybe she'd been too pulled in by his gorgeous face to see it, but now that she was alone in a small space with him, she could see that he practically thrummed with danger.

"Or...I'll go down there and tell them what you really are."

He smiled and leaned back in the chair. The ease was back so quickly it made Beth wonder if she'd only imagined the menacing gleam in his eyes.

"Go ahead," he said.

"I'll do it." Her voice shook a little.

"No, you won't. You're too invested in this lie that you've told," he said. "And even if you somehow decide to face their scorn and laughter, chances are they wouldn't believe you. Why would they? Everything else you've told them has been a lie."

Beth opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She could barely get breath past the lump blocking her throat. Her legs turned to rubber beneath her. She barely made the two steps to the bed. The edge of the mattress bowed beneath her weight.

Dear God, what had she gotten herself into? She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "I made a deal with the devil, didn't I?"

"I'm not sure about that," he said. "But next time you might want to find out a little about the person you are blackmailing before you do it."

"What is it that you want?" It probably wasn't a good idea, keeping her back to him, but the thought of turning around to face him was too much to bear. Besides, she still didn't think he was out to hurt her. Not physically at least.

"Nothing," he said.

Like she could believe that. "Right."

"It's true," he said.

Beth lifted her eyes heavenward again. No divine intervention came flowing down. Imagine that.

"And what if I end up getting in trouble because of this plan of yours?" she asked.

"You won't," he said. His voice was firm, certain.

"But what if I do?" She imagined a flood of cop cars pulling up in the middle of Isobel's ceremony, sirens blaring. She'd be cuffed and stuffed in the backseat while Spencer looked on and laughed.

"It's not going to happen."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you or yours, Beth. I promise."

Beth swiveled around on the bed. His expression was calm and confident. She believed him. She couldn't figure out why, but she did.

"What are we going to do about Charlie?" she asked.

"I don't see any reason why we can't help each other. I'll be Charlie all weekend. After that you can tell them anything you like. We broke up. You found me with another woman. I fell off a cliff," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'll have to drag you to some wedding events. You'll have to spend time with my parents." She wasn't going to sugarcoat it for him. There would be a price to pay for both of them.

He smiled as if that was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. "I haven't been to a wedding in years."

There would be no getting rid of him, Beth realized. Their deal was struck. She was stuck with him all weekend. Her stomach flipped over again, and this time it wasn't because her head was filled with visions of her mother crying as the police led her away in handcuffs. No, now she was imagining being trapped in this tiny room when Charlie finally slid out of that jacket.

Beth turned her face away before he could see her blush.

"I should change before dinner," she said, rising from the bed. She'd have to dress in the bathroom from now on.

"I'll go get my things," he said.

Beth could feel his eyes on her as she went to the closet to pick out a dress. She heard him rise from the chair and take two steps toward her. He cupped her shoulder with his hands. It was a comforting gesture, and, heaven help her, she wanted to lean into him. But she resisted. She kept herself straight as a beam.

"Everything is going to be all right, Beth."

She wished that he would stop saying her name. Just the sound of it made her feel all warm inside. It made her lose sight of important things. Details that she would have otherwise caught.

Charlie opened the door.

Beth froze.

"Wait," she said. "In the elevator. How did you know that my room was on the second floor?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and stepped out into the hall. "Lucky guess."

The door clicked shut behind him.

# Chapter 3

Beth didn't eat a bite of her dinner. For the first time in a week, it had nothing to do with self-control. Her stomach had been churning through the whole meal.

She'd been certain that at any moment the whole ruse would fall apart. Someone would ask something about her past, about Charlie's past, about anything at all, and Charlie would freeze. They would be caught in the lie and revealed as frauds.

But it never happened. Everyone was pleasant, and the topics stayed light. Her pretend Charlie showed off his charming side, laughing at Mr. Masterson's jokes, complimenting her mother's dress, even talking a little baseball with Jordan. Beth couldn't have hoped for a better result. There wasn't even a hint of the dangerous man she'd seen a flash of in her room. By the time the salads had been removed, he had the whole table eating out of his palm.

There were two exceptions, of course—Spencer, who still regarded Charlie with a skeptical eye, and Isobel, who only had laughter in hers.

Isobel excused herself from the table as soon as the waiter came around for coffee orders. Beth took the cue and followed her.

Isobel grabbed onto her arm as they walked to the bathroom.

"So? Who is he?" Isobel asked as soon as the door swung shut.

"What do you mean? He's Charlie."

Isobel balled her fists on her hips and gave her a pointed glare. "You know what I mean. How the hell did you pull this off?"

"I really don't know. The situation just kind of fell into my lap." She wasn't about to tell Isobel what kind of man Charlie really was.

"Where did you find him? Is he an actor?"

Beth scrunched up her nose. There wasn't any way to answer. Not a truthful one, at any rate. "Kind of."

Isobel's eyes widened. "Is he a gigolo?"

"Oh my God, Isobel." Beth put a finger to her lips, in case they could be overheard.

"He is, isn't he?" Isobel went on. "That's why he's so hot. And so good with people."

"Are gigolos known for their social skills?" Beth asked, furrowing her brow.

Isobel shrugged. "I don't know. I've never known one before. But I'd imagine they'd have to be."

It made sense. And it was sure a hell of a lot easier than having to tell Isobel that she had dragged a potentially dangerous criminal to her wedding. Sure, it made her seem desperate, but what the hell?

Isobel's eyes widened as all the pieces fell together in her mind. "And you're sharing a room with him. Are you—?"

"Dear God, no!" At least that part was true.

"Why not? Just look at him."

Beth's mouth hung open. "Because I'm not so hard up that I have to pay for sex."

Well, that wasn't exactly true. She probably _was_ that hard up. But her pride wouldn't allow it. At least the pesky emotion was good for something.

"No, you're just hard up enough to pay someone to pretend to be your boyfriend." Isobel laughed.

Beth rolled her eyes and bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "I couldn't think of any other way out of it. You don't think anyone suspects, do you?"

Isobel shook her head. "No. Your mother just about ate him up with a spoon. I think she's already picking out colors for the nursery."

"What about Spencer?"

Isobel's expression turned serious. Nothing sucked the air out of the room like mentioning Spencer.

"I don't know why you spend so much time worrying about what Spencer thinks. I sure as hell don't, and he's about to become family."

Beth went to the sink and looked in the mirror. She combed her fingers through her hair, smoothing out an invisible tangle. "I just do. I just want to have a small moment where I get the better of him. It doesn't have to be big."

Isobel came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, give up on that dream. It isn't going to happen. It would mean that Spencer would have to see his own flaws, and men like him just don't do that. It just isn't in him. It's some male defense mechanism, I guess. You're just going to have to write him down in the mistake column of your life, and console yourself with the fact that you are a thousand times better than him, whether he ever sees it or not."

Beth looked up at Isobel's reflection in the mirror. It was a nice speech, one she would have benefitted from hearing two hours ago, before her life had tipped upside down.

"But you can do all that after the wedding," Isobel said. "First, hit the hell out of that Charlie out there all weekend long. Do it for those of us who can't."

"Isobel!"

"What, I'm getting married. I'm not dead."

Isobel turned Beth around and pulled her into a hug. A moment later, the bathroom door swung open and Isobel's mother walked in.

Mrs. Munoz was every bit as graceful as her daughter. It was easy to see where Isobel got it from. Beth had spent so much time at the woman's house growing up, she'd come to think of Mrs. Munoz as a second mother, one who cooked spicier food and didn't complain about how Beth was wearing her hair.

"Is everything all right?" she asked when she saw the pair hugging and the tears in Beth's eyes.

"Of course," Beth said, wiping them away.

"Beth starts crying every time I mention the wedding," Isobel said, covering for her. "She promises that she won't do it during the ceremony, but I wouldn't put money on it."

"Neither would I," Mrs. Munoz said.

Charlie wasn't at the table when Beth got back from the ladies room. She looked around the restaurant, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Her heart hitched in her chest. Maybe he'd run off. Maybe this had all been part of some sick game he was playing, getting her hopes up and then ditching her.

Or maybe he was breaking into more cars. Or rooms. Maybe she was better off not knowing what he was doing.

Or maybe, just maybe, he'd gone off to the bathroom.

"Charlie said he had to run an errand," Mr. Munoz said when Beth sat back down in her seat. His vague answer wasn't terribly reassuring.

One by one, people started leaving. It was starting to get late. But for some reason, the thought of going up to her room didn't sound appealing. There was too much going on in her head for her to sit up in bed, waiting for a knock on the door. She didn't even want to think about how she was going to sleep with a stranger so close. Was he planning on sleeping on the chair, or did he expect her to give up half the bed?

After her conversation with Isobel in the bathroom, Beth wasn't entirely sure which one she wanted.

What she needed was a little courage, a little determination. So, she headed toward the bar instead of the elevator.

Isobel and Jordan passed her on their way out. They looked so sweet together. Isobel's arm was tucked around Jordan's side. When they stopped, Jordan tilted his head down on top of hers. Beth couldn't help but smile. They were good together.

"Are you going to be all right on your own?" Isobel asked. There was a world of meaning behind her concerned look.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure that I can manage the 10 p.m. lounge crowd by myself," Beth said.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I'm good."

Isobel gave her another intense look. "Are you sure?"

"I promise." Beth shook her head and tried to laugh but it came out a stuttered sigh. "Take her to bed, Jordan."

"Will do," he said, starting to lead Isobel away. He stopped after a few steps and turned back. "Oh, Beth."

"Yeah?"

"I really like Charlie. I'm glad he could finally make it to something."

Beth forced the smile to stay on her face until Isobel and Jordan disappeared inside the elevator. Then her shoulders slumped, and she sighed for real.

She went to the lounge, and found a small table tucked into a corner. It was swallowed by shadow, the lights from the bar barely reaching it. The darkness suited her mood perfectly.

It took the waitress a few minutes to notice her.

"I'll have a Cosmopolitan," Beth said, when she finally came to take her order.

"And a soda water," a deep voice said behind the waitress. Charlie stepped into view. "I hope you don't mind if I join you."

He pulled off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair before he sat down.

Apparently it wasn't a question.

"Go right ahead," she said. If he noticed the sarcasm in her voice, he didn't show it. "Did you get your errand done?"

He nodded.

Beth considered probing further, but decided against it. Maybe with something like this it would be better to have plausible deniability. Wasn't that what they called it in the movies?

"Good for you," she said.

He looked at her but said nothing. The silence stretched on and on. Beth glanced down at her hands, then to the other tables in the lounge. Finally, she looked at the bar. She could feel Charlie's gaze on her, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was making her nervous. It felt as if he was looking inside her, studying her.

"So," he said after an interminable minute had passed. "Talk to me about Charlie."

Beth turned back to him, her eyes wide. "I thought you didn't need to know anything. You've been playing him all evening."

"Not those details. Tell me how you came up with him."

Beth didn't miss the command in his voice. He was a man used to asking questions and getting answers. For a second she thought of tossing off some flip remark, but then thought better of it. This day had drained the fight out of her.

"I first came up with Charlie when I was in the seventh grade."

His brows shot up, and Beth felt a little thrill of accomplishment. She wouldn't have guessed that there was much in this world that still managed to surprise him.

"Billy Demers asked Hailey Cranston to the spring dance instead of me. I didn't want anyone to know how upset I was, so I invented Charlie. I told Hailey it didn't matter because I already had a boyfriend who lived one town over."

"But you can't bring a pretend boyfriend to the spring dance."

"No, you can't. That was why Charlie ended up having a karate competition that night."

"Karate? I guess I'm pretty hardcore."

"That you are."

The waitress arrived with their drinks. Charlie pressed a bill into her hand and told her to keep the change before Beth could reach inside her purse. Going by the look on the woman's face, Charlie was a pretty nice tipper.

"After that I pulled him...I mean you...out of my pocket whenever I needed to save face. There were a couple of times in high school. One very memorable night in college. You once even saved me from going on a blind date with a co-worker's cousin."

"I'm glad I could be of service."

Beth raised her drink in mock salute to him. He smiled and took a sip of his own.

"Isobel was the only one who knew the truth. She's the only person I've ever trusted to see me, warts and all."

He quirked a brow.

"They're metaphorical warts," she said.

"Of course."

Beth downed the rest of her drink. She looked down at the empty glass. "I could probably use another one of these."

Charlie waved his hand to get the waitress's attention.

He ordered and paid again before she could say anything. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of being in debt to him. On the other hand, a couple of drinks were the least that he owed her.

He turned back to focus on her. His blue eyes had darkened in the dim light. The flicker of the candle on the table shimmered in his irises. Shadows fell across his cheeks, calling his features into stark relief. Damn, he was hot.

For a second, she didn't care what kind of man he was. She didn't care what he'd done in the past. All she wanted was to feel those lips again as they moved against hers. Maybe this time he'd press them against her neck. Or her earlobe. She was a sucker for earlobe kisses.

Moving lips. Crap. He'd just said something and she'd missed it because she'd been too busy making out with him in her mind.

"Excuse me?" she said.

He gave the wolfish smile again. Beth had the feeling he knew exactly where her mind had been.

"I was just wondering what made you bring up Charlie this time," he said.

Beth rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's a story that I usually wouldn't tell until I was three or four drinks into the evening."

"I have all night."

He leaned back in his chair. His arms hung at his sides, loose and languid, but Beth could still make out the contour of muscle underneath his white oxford shirt. Those butterflies started fluttering again. Maybe another drink wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Spencer and I used to date," she said.

"So you've said."

"It didn't end well."

He waited silently, and Beth wondered how much to tell him. He picked up his glass and took another sip. His eyes never left hers. Damn, there was something about that look that made her want to tell him everything. All of her secrets.

"It was a big mistake from beginning to end. Isobel warned me against it, but as usual, I didn't listen."

"There's no shame in making your own mistakes," he said.

"Yeah, well. I guess that makes me pretty shameless then."

He smiled. The butterflies multiplied.

"Anyway, about a week after our breakup I heard that Spencer was dating again," she said. "No problem, right? But then he kept dating. And I wasn't. Sometimes I would run into him and his flavor of the week at Isobel's. Sometimes I'd just see pictures."

"And you got jealous," he said.

Beth's drink arrived, and she thanked the waitress.

"Not of Spencer. I didn't want to get back together with him or anything. The whole thing wasn't even a problem until Isobel got engaged. Then suddenly people were asking me who I was going to bring as my date to the wedding. My mother. Spencer. Everybody. That's when Charlie made his grand return."

"There wasn't anybody, not in all that time?" he asked.

"Nobody that I liked enough to go out with," she said a little too emphatically. She winced and tried again. "I could have had dozens of guys, I'm sure. But I didn't like any of them. I'd already made that mistake when I went out with Spencer. I didn't want to repeat it."

Beth took a sip of her Cosmo. It was good. Really good.

"Besides, Charlie was supposed to get everyone off my back. He always had before. This time he kind of took on a life of his own. People kept asking questions, and I kept answering. The lies got bigger and bigger until suddenly I found myself bargaining with a car thief in a hotel parking lot."

"Blackmailing, not bargaining."

She waved her hand in front of her. "Semantics."

His smile was wide and genuine.

"So there it is—my life story," she said. "I'm guessing that you're not too keen on telling me yours?"

He slowly shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.

She took another sip. A part of her wanted to push for more. It was only polite, after all, to give up a little dirt after someone spilled their guts. But somehow she knew that even if she begged, he wouldn't answer.

She looked down and saw that her glass was empty. Again. She looked up. His eyes were on it too.

"I'm not really a lush," she said. "I don't really drink much at all."

Her head was feeling floaty. All of her tension had been replaced by a warm, bubbly feeling that was far more pleasant.

"I can tell."

Beth didn't hear any sarcasm in his voice. Or maybe she was too buzzed to notice it. She didn't think so. He didn't seem to judge her. She hadn't once noticed that familiar look of disappointment in his eyes. Maybe that was why she liked him so much.

And she did. Dear God, she'd finally found a man she liked, and he was probably wanted in three states. Her mother would be so proud.

If only he was the gigolo that Isobel thought that he was. At least that would be a step up.

Beth couldn't stop the laugh before it escaped her lips. Charlie's look turned questioning.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

He didn't have to press, not with words. He just leaned forward in his chair, and something about his stare made her want to talk more.

"I was just thinking how much Fate likes having fun with me," she said.

"You believe in Fate?" he asked.

"Not really," she said. "But it seems she certainly believes in me."

Alex didn't pull away when Beth slipped her hand into his as they waited for the elevator. She curled her fingers around his, but didn't try to pull him close. She just stood by his side, her warm palm pressed against his. There was nothing possessive or demanding in her touch.

How long had it been since he held hands with someone? The simple reassurance of human contact—that was what she wanted. And that was the least he could give her.

The very least.

His mind had strayed a few times during their conversation to the other kinds of soothing he could offer her.

She had opened up to him without any urging on his part. Maybe tomorrow she would blame the martinis, but Alex knew alcohol had nothing to do with the words that flowed out of her. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to _him._

And, surprisingly, Alex found that he wanted to listen. He enjoyed sitting across from her, watching the way her nose crinkled when she talked about a part of her past that she wasn't proud of.

Alex knew secrets. He knew how people held onto them, usually only parting with them after it became clear that there was no other option. Sometimes not even then.

But Beth had told him willingly. She'd chosen him to be the one to lift her burden, and he was happy to do it.

It was cute, in a way. She thought that her secrets were great and terrible. But Alex knew better. He'd seen the very worst that humanity had to offer. He'd shone light into the darkest corners of humanity. He knew the horrors that could be found there. Listening for half an hour to Beth's very human failings seemed charming in comparison.

She was a little wobbly on her feet as they stepped into the elevator. She hadn't eaten much at dinner. No more than a few bites, and she'd downed those martinis pretty fast. She wasn't drunk, not exactly. But Alex didn't think she was in all that much pain either.

Alex felt a pull on his arm as the elevator rose past the second floor.

"I'm on two," Beth said.

"Not anymore."

The doors opened, and he walked down the hall. Her hesitation was obvious. She walked a step behind him, dragging on his arm, but she didn't let go of his hand.

_She trusts you_. God only knew why, but she did. He rationalized that he wasn't using her—no more than she was using him. It was a mutually beneficial situation. And she was smart enough not to ask too many questions.

Hopefully, there wouldn't be any reason for her to.

But he had meant every word of his promise. He wouldn't hurt her. More than that, he wouldn't allow any harm to come to her. Even the idea made him sick.

Alex didn't dig too deep into the reason behind the emotion. He had taken her on as his responsibility. And he liked her. That was all.

Her expression was openly skeptical when he stopped at the door in the middle of the hall. He swiped the key and held the door open.

"What the..." she said, stepping in before him. There was no hesitation in her now. He let her hand go, and she walked into the suite.

The door closed behind him, and he tossed the key on the table.

She went to the wide window that made up the far wall of the room. She threw open the drapes, exposing a panorama of the bay. Across the water, the lights of San Francisco glistened. She stood there for a long time with her back to him. The line of her shoulders relaxed a little, enough to tell him that she liked the view.

So did he.

"It's gorgeous," she whispered. She turned her face toward him. "This was your errand."

Alex nodded. That, and other things. He'd also seized the opportunity to take a quick look around Isobel Munoz's room.

"I had the staff move your things."

"Why?"

"I didn't like the view in your room."

Close enough. He needed a clear view of the parking lots. This room gave him the widest vantage. He could see both the visitor and housekeeping access roads in to and out of the hotel. She could stare off into the distance all she liked, but his interests were a little closer to home.

"No, I mean, why move my things? I can't afford this room. It took me months of saving to afford the one I'm in right now."

"Don't worry about it. I took care of both rooms."

She turned around. Her mouth hung open wide. She stuttered for a moment before she found the words.

"You can't do that," she said.

"I just did."

"But you can't," she repeated. "Paying for my drinks is one thing, but if I let you do this then you're not the gigolo. I am."

"Excuse me?"

She plopped down in one of the chairs, her feet coming off the ground.

"Isobel might think that you're a man whore."

"Really?" He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall. He'd had many covers since moving from the Navy to the CIA, but this was a new one.

"She came up with the idea on her own. I just let her believe it. What else could I do? I couldn't let her know what you really do, you know?"

Yeah, he knew. Only too well.

She looked around the room. "It's certainly bigger than my old room."

He nodded.

"And that sofa over there will make things far less awkward when it comes to sleeping arrangements."

"That does seem like an important thing to consider when sharing a room with a gigolo."

She shot him a glare, kicking off her heels. She looked at the wide bed in the room behind her. Then back at him. The war in her head showed plainly on her face.

"Can I see the bathroom?" she asked, as if her answer hinged on it. As if her answer mattered at all.

Regardless of what he felt for Beth—and he wasn't sure he knew exactly what those feelings were himself—she had become an important asset in his mission. He simply couldn't allow her to leave his side.

"By all means," he said.

She tiptoed to the door in the corner. He stayed a few steps behind.

She let out a long sigh when she looked inside.

"There's a real tub, Charlie. One of those claw-footed ones. I've always wanted to have a bath in one of those." She gave him a guilty smile, like she didn't like the thought that she could be bought with the promise of a nice hot soak. "Always."

He leaned on the doorjamb next to her. He had to admit, the thought of her in that tub stirred him as well.

"Maybe, just one night," she said. "We'll see how it works out."

"Sounds fair."

He wouldn't tell her that he'd already given up her old room, and there was no chance of getting it back. The Kensington was booked solid this weekend. He'd had to use every trick he knew to snag this one.

She walked past him to the massive oak armoire that stood in the corner of the bedroom. She opened the door and made a little sound of pleasure at seeing her clothes already hung up for her. She pulled out something short and silky. A nightgown. She stopped and swiveled around.

"I do get the bed, right?" she asked.

"Of course," he said and swallowed hard. He glanced back at the couch about twenty feet away. The longest twenty feet Alex had ever seen.

# Chapter 4

She should have let him have the bed.

Beth rolled over for what had to be the thousandth time in the last hour and stared at the ceiling. He would have gotten better use out of it. She could toss and turn just as easily on a sofa as she could on this bed. At least then she would have better reason to.

She'd fallen asleep easy enough. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she wasn't a big drinker. But her buzz didn't last long. The dreams had seen to that.

She'd been at Isobel's wedding. Everything had been going great. Hell, she hadn't even been crying. Then suddenly, everything changed.

Clouds had rolled in overhead. Rain started to fall. Isobel and Jordan started fighting. Her mother started yelling. Spencer started laughing. Everyone turned on her. They knew it was her fault. Everything was ruined, and it was all her fault.

Beth had woken with a start.

The room was dark. The only light was from the bedside clock that read 3:45. That was an hour ago, and sleep wasn't any closer.

Beth sat up and peered toward the couch, but it was far too dark to make anything out. So instead, she sat and listened for signs of life. Nothing. No rustling fabric. No breathing. Charlie was dead asleep.

Just like she should be. But she wasn't, and dwelling on it wasn't going to get her there.

Not that she could help it. Her mind was racing. A few nightmare scenarios were still rattling around in there, but the longer she stared in Charlie's general direction, the more they faded. What replaced them were crystal clear images of her helping him out of his jacket. Working on the buttons down his shirt. Going for the zipper of his...

What she needed to do was take a walk. Just a little one, around the hotel halls, to clear her head.

Beth slipped out of the sheets and felt for the wardrobe in the dark. She reached inside, and found her jeans and a zippered sweatshirt. They would have to do. It wasn't like she would be running into anyone this early in the morning.

She dressed, walked on tiptoes to the door, and cracked it open. A sliver of light from the hall fell across the couch. Charlie was there, eyes closed, body relaxed. He wore a plain white T-shirt on top. A hotel blanket covered his bottom half.

Shame, she thought. She'd love to see what he was wearing under there. Boxers or briefs?

She closed the door behind her with a soft click.

The hallway was bright and quiet. The light instantly cleared some of the fog from her brain. She padded down the hallway, not sure where she was going, but with each step the weight of her terrible dream faded a little more.

Everything was fine out here. The world kept on spinning. Nothing she had done had brought it to a stop.

She took the stairs instead of the elevator. It felt good to keep moving. Unsurprisingly the lobby was almost as empty as the hall.

"Hi," she said to the desk clerk. "I was just wondering if there was anything open right now around here."

The woman looked at the clock. "Not yet. But the cafe will open at 5 o'clock."

Beth smiled and thanked her. Coffee would be perfect. And she could explore the hotel for another fifteen minutes, no problem.

Beth wandered down the corridor that led past the restaurant and lounge. She turned corners and looked at old pictures on the walls. She found a flight of stairs that led down to the spa and another that led up to the hotel gift shop. After a few minutes, she wasn't exactly sure where she was.

She pushed open a swinging door and found herself alone in an industrial part of the hotel. Giant washing machines whirled and hummed.

The sound of hushed voices made Beth turn her head. She wasn't alone after all. Two men stood in profile at the far end of the room. She narrowed her eyes: Salvatore Munoz. Isobel's uncle. She didn't recognize the other man. He didn't look like someone from the Munoz family, just some random white guy in a dark suit.

She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she saw one pass a large manila envelope to the other. The second man glanced inside then nodded and pushed a briefcase across the table.

Beth didn't have any idea what was in that envelope, but it didn't take a genius to tell what type of transaction she was witnessing. It was the kind that she was better off not knowing anything about.

She snuck back a couple of steps, directly into a metal folding chair that had been leaning against the wall. It clattered to the floor.

Both men swiveled around to face her.

Beth raised her hand and bowed her head in the international sign for _sorry, I got lost and wandered into someplace I shouldn't have, but I'm getting the hell out of here now_.

Salvatore made like he was going to move toward her, but the other man put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could take a single step. She couldn't hear what the man whispered to Salvatore, but by the way his lips moved she could have sworn he said, "not here".

Beth decided not to stick around to find out. She turned and bolted out the door, then ran like hell back up the stairs.

By the time she found her way back to the lobby, she'd stopped shaking. Even though it was still empty, the civilized feel of the place eased her mind a little.

Salvatore Munoz had always given Beth a serious case of the creeps, and that was under the best of circumstances. Maybe it was the setting—the haze of the fluorescent lights, the well-worn industrial tile—but this incident spooked her more than usual.

Or, it could have been the murderous look in Salvatore's eyes. But that wasn't unusual. In her mind, Salvatore always looked like that.

What in the world was he doing meeting with someone in the Kensington's laundry room at five o'clock in the morning? Nevermind. She really did not want to know the answer to that. In fact, she wanted to forget about the whole incident. As far as she was concerned, nothing had happened. If anybody asked her about it she'd say that she had wandered into the laundry room and gone temporarily blind. It was the damnedest thing.

She checked the clock on the wall. It was still a few minutes to five, but she could wait outside the cafe until they were ready. Suddenly, it was very important that she saw a smiling face. At the very least, someone who didn't look like he wanted to kill her.

Beth fumbled to swipe the key in the door while holding two paper cups and a folded paper bag. The first try didn't work. The red light just blinked at her. She was about to go for the second try when the door swung open.

Charlie stood there, still in his white T-shirt and plaid boxers.

Woohoo. That's what she'd been hoping for. Not that briefs would have been bad. There were very few games in life where everyone ended up a winner.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, stepping inside.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go downstairs and get a coffee. I thought that you might like one too." She handed him the cup. "I didn't know what you liked, so I guessed."

He pulled off the lid and peered inside. "Black coffee. You guessed right."

"You seem the type. There's a muffin in the bag if you want it."

He reached in and pulled out the oversized blueberry muffin.

"Thanks."

Beth went over to the window and pulled back the drapes. The sky had just begun to lighten. A purplish glow bathed the concrete city across the bay. Beth curled up on the windowsill. At least there were benefits for being up so early.

"I thought you'd still be asleep when I got back," she said.

He moved to the opposite corner of the window and leaned his hip against it. "I heard you leave."

"Sorry about that. I tried to be quiet."

"I'm a light sleeper." He broke off a chunk of muffin and offered it to her.

Beth shook her head. "I had a banana in the cafe."

He looked at her for a long moment. "You didn't eat much at dinner last night."

Beth looked out at the view and away from his gaze. "Yeah, well, I have a bridesmaid dress to fit into on Sunday."

"You'll look great," he said, taking another sip of coffee.

The compliment, even as off-hand as it was, made her blush.

"Thanks."

He finished the muffin in three bites, and downed the coffee just as fast. There was a casual efficiency to every move he made that was almost hypnotic. He fascinated her, she realized. She liked watching him do even the most mundane things.

But it wasn't necessarily the best idea to spend too much time getting to know him. She might not know who he was, but she knew who he wasn't. He wasn't really Charlie Parker, the music executive who lived in a luxury penthouse in Nob Hill. He was some nameless car thief who was up to God only knew what.

Which meant that if she was any kind of smart, she'd get all her looking in now. She didn't have any plans to jump in bed with him, no matter what Isobel said. But looking? That was another matter entirely.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, pushing away from the wall. He crumpled the pastry bag and shot it into the wastebasket on the far side of the room.

Good shot. Great one, actually. Beth clapped, and he flashed her the kind of smile that had her holding onto the windowsill for support.

She tried to talk herself out of watching him as he walked across the room, but it was no use. Halfway to the bathroom, he started to lift his shirt. Her eyes fixed on him as he pulled it over his head, revealing a back that was ripped with muscle. Beth couldn't turn away. She couldn't even close her mouth. Her hand dropped limply to her side.

_Please turn around. Please turn around._

She repeated the prayer over and over in her mind. She didn't even care if he caught her gawking.

All right, maybe she would mind a little.

But as it turned out, she didn't have to worry about it. He walked straight into the bathroom without looking back. A moment later she heard the water turn on.

She took another sip of her hazelnut latte. Damn, what she would do to be in there with him. Hey, she needed to shower too, right?

What would he do if she walked in there, stripped out of her clothes and joined him?

Beth laughed. Yeah, right. Like she'd ever have the nerve to do something like that.

She'd be better served by getting ready for her day. She went to the wardrobe and picked out a blouse and skirt. She'd have to shave her legs, and then make it downstairs before everyone else had breakfast. She was meeting up with the rest of the bridesmaids to get their nails done. After that, she'd promised Isobel that she would walk the four blocks to the florist and check on the order for the ceremony.

There wouldn't be time for that long soak in the magnificent tub today. Maybe tonight. This morning she'd have to settle for a quick shower.

Alone.

Beth paused as she was pulling out the pink silk shirt she planned to wear today. All the clothes in the wardrobe were hers. She looked around the room. She didn't see anything that belonged to Charlie. No bags. No suitcases.

She shouldn't pry. She knew she shouldn't. Remember what happened to that curious cat, she reminded herself.

She looked at the bathroom door. It was still shut tight. The water was still running.

One little look around wouldn't hurt anything. What if he was hiding something dangerous in their room? A bomb or something? She had every right to know about that, she figured.

The only other door was the one to the closet.

Just one look.

She rushed over to the door and slid it open. Just a crack. The suit he'd been wearing yesterday hung on the rack. There were two more, just as fine, next to it. There was also a duffle bag on the floor. That was it. Nothing that pointed to who her Charlie really was. But at least she hadn't found anything dangerous.

Not unless it was in the duffle bag.

She stared at it. It was a plain-looking thing, military green and made out of a thick, well-worn fabric. It had seen some use. Years of it, given the wear around the edges. It was also incredibly out of place next to the Italian suits.

If there was anything real about her Charlie in this hotel room, it was in there.

It was closed up tight, except for one zipper that was undone on the far side.

Beth leaned forward, then stopped herself. She couldn't. It wasn't right. She'd flip out if she caught him going through her personal stuff.

But wasn't that essentially what he had done by moving her to this room? Someone had to move her things from the first room to here. Someone had to hang her clothes in the wardrobe. He'd arranged all that without asking. If she'd had any secrets, they would have been discovered.

She still couldn't bring herself to do it. Brazenly spying on him just wasn't her style. But if by some accident she happened to sneak a little peek inside, well, that was different.

She let the empty coffee cup in her hand fall to the floor next to the bag.

"Oops," she said. She bent down, peering into the unzipped compartment. A glint of metal caught the light from the fixture above her.

Beth jetted backward, her paper cup forgotten. Her breath was heavy and fast. She struggled to control it.

She didn't need a closer look to know what was hiding inside the pocket of the duffle bag. She recognized the barrel of a gun when she saw one.

"Are you okay?" a calm voice asked behind her.

Beth shot up to her feet.

Charlie was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. A towel was wrapped around his waist, giving her a clear view of his chiseled bare chest. It was every bit as glorious as she'd hoped it would be, but she didn't spare it a second glance.

"Y-yeah," she stuttered. "Everything's cool."

Dear God, she shouldn't have done that. When would she ever learn to listen to that warning voice in her head? She liked it so much better just a few minutes ago. Back when she'd been able to believe the fantasy she'd created about this stranger she was sharing intimate space with. That he was some kind of gentleman thief—more Robin Hood than common criminal.

His eyes went from her to the open closet door. His gaze became guarded. Beth tensed, waiting for what came next.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice even and measured.

"Nothing," she said too quickly. "I just dropped something."

"In the closet?"

"I was just poking around the room." She tried to play it cool, but she couldn't have acted guiltier if she tried. But she _was_ guilty, and that guilt was quickly turning into fear.

He was armed. Maybe heavily. Who knew what else was in that bag? He could have a whole damn armory in there. What in the world was he planning to do with it?

He didn't move away from the door. He just stood there, his eyes steady on her. The seconds crept by in silence, and Beth felt every one of them. She felt the pressure to say something weighing heavy on her shoulders, but there wasn't any explanation she could give. She could ask him what he was planning to do with the gun, but she feared he might answer her.

"Did something happen?" he asked. There was a world of meaning behind that question.

"Nope. Everything's fine."

He took a step forward, and she skittered back. He stopped. His grip tightened on his towel, the first sign of tension that she'd seen in him.

"That's right, Beth. Everything is fine." He said the words slowly. His voice was low. He was trying to calm her down, she realized. She questioned his motivations. Was she really safe, or did he just want to keep her quiet?

After another second, he started for the closet. Beth pressed her back into the wall behind her as he passed. He glanced inside and seemed satisfied that nothing had been touched. He slid the door closed.

"Is there anything you want to ask me?" he said, turning toward her.

Beth shook her head.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He inched forward, but Beth didn't sense any menace in his movements. Still, she remembered the shining barrel of the gun in the closet. People didn't keep those things around for petting puppies.

She forced herself to lift her head and look him in the eye. "I just want to know if everything is going to be all right."

His shoulders fell a little. It was a convoluted sentiment and yet he seemed to understand her perfectly. He leaned in a little closer, but Beth kept her back pressed against the wall.

"Everything is going to be fine," he assured her. "You're safe. Your family is safe. Your friends are safe." He spoke slowly, giving her time to let the words sink in.

She nodded, wanting to believe him for the same strange reason that she'd believed everything he'd said since the moment she met him, even knowing that this time she had every reason not to.

But she did, though not with the same blind trust that she had given before. He hadn't done anything to hurt her. All he'd done was help her. Still, she couldn't help but be wary. She wasn't stupid.

Beth tilted her head to the side, concern rushing back over her. There was one person he hadn't mentioned.

"Are _you_ safe?" she asked.

The question seemed to throw him. For a brief moment there was a hitch in his relaxed demeanor. Tension flashed in his eyes, though Beth couldn't imagine why.

He shrugged but didn't answer. Beth swallowed past the lump in her throat. No answer was all the answer she needed.

"I guess you still aren't going to tell me what's really going on here," she said.

He shook his head slowly. "Good guess."

# Chapter 5

Alex uncrossed his legs and tried to resettle himself into a more comfortable spot in his seat. The antique couches that lined the lobby were nice to look at, but they weren't exactly plush. The cushions were painfully thin and the backings were as hard as stone. It wasn't the type of thing he usually minded. He'd done surveillance in much worse conditions for longer periods of time without a single complaint.

He couldn't blame his lack of sleep. Sure, he'd only dipped in and out of the lightest sleep last night. His mind had buzzed, working out the details in this new little wrinkle in his assignment. That this _new wrinkle_ happened to be an attractive and intriguing woman sleeping not twenty feet from him had nothing to do with it. But Alex knew from experience what sleep deprivation felt like, and this wasn't it.

No, what had him squirming in his seat was the look in her eyes as she'd left the room this morning. She was scared.

He could understand why she would be scared of him. It was a perfectly rational reaction. But that wasn't it. Not entirely.

She was scared _for_ him.

No one ever worried about him. No one. Ever.

All morning he'd struggled against the urge to reach out and pull her close. To wrap his arms around her and feel that soft mouth under his again. He'd passed it off as simple lust, something he understood well. But with that one look, she had floored him. He didn't know what to make of it. He didn't know how to feel.

Sitting in the windowsill, she'd been so open. So truthful. She'd thought of him when she didn't have to. She'd bought him breakfast after all the trouble and confusion he had caused. It was funny to think about it, but that muffin might have been the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

Alex picked up the tablet at his side and pretended to read. He had to get back to thinking about his assignment, instead of a pair of soulful brown eyes.

He'd been in this spot for an hour now, and no one familiar or suspicious had passed by. He hadn't really expected any action. John's DHS team had all the entrances and exits covered. They would let him know if anyone of interest was on the move. If anything was going to happen this morning between the Munoz's and his CIA leak it was doubtful that it would happen in clear view of the lobby.

He could have complained that he'd wasted a whole morning, but that wasn't why he was down here on this ridiculous excuse for a couch. Not really.

Beth had gone down to the spa with the rest of the bridesmaids, and, once she was done, she would have to come through the lobby. He hadn't figured out what he was going to say when he saw her. He hadn't even made up his mind if he was going to approach her at all. He didn't want to antagonize her if she still looked upset.

But he did want to see her. For some reason that had become very important.

Alex turned his head at the sound of heels clicking on marble. Beth was in the middle of a group of women making their way up the stairs. She was laughing, but her smile was still tight. Worry lines were etched around her eyes and forehead. Her body was tense.

She gave Isobel Munoz a long hug, and then broke away from the pack. Alex tucked away his tablet, and rose, following close behind as she made her way to the front door of the lobby.

"Beth," he said when he had almost caught up to her. She turned around warily.

"Hey," she said. She didn't stop walking.

He fell into step beside her. "Where are you going?"

"I have an errand to run for Isobel."

"You want some company?" he asked.

That made her stop. She looked at him long and hard. She was worried he was dangerous. And he was. He wouldn't lie to her and tell her otherwise. The truth was he was far more dangerous than she could ever imagine.

The only thing he could do was assure her that he would never harm her. And he never would. Never. That she would even think it a possibility cut him deeper than he wanted to admit.

The look in her eyes was all apology when she opened her mouth. Before she could say a word, Spencer and Jordan Masterson walked out of the café. Jordan came over and clapped Alex on the back.

"Hey guys, how are you?" he asked.

"Just fine," Alex said.

Spencer Masterson stayed where he was. His eyes were on Beth, and Alex didn't much like what he saw in them. He was like a child who didn't like seeing some other kid playing with his toy. There was a mix of jealousy and, more concerning, anger. This was a man who didn't like to be shown up. And he blamed Beth for his humiliation.

Alex hooked his arm around Beth's, and met Spencer's gaze full on. After a second, Spencer looked away, but none of his petty displeasure had subsided.

"Where are you guys off to?" Jordan Masterson asked.

"We have some errands to run," Alex said.

Beth's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say a word.

"Isobel's hooked you into running around for her again?" Spencer asked Beth.

Beth's smile was strained and shaky. She was a terrible actress.

"I don't mind," she said.

"That's right. _We_ don't mind at all," Alex said looking Spencer straight in the eye. His stare was enough to drain some of the swagger out of the cocky son-of-a-bitch.

Some, but not all.

"You'd better be careful, _Charlie_. Beth doesn't like guys who speak for her," he said.

"Really? Because from what I've heard, you were never really the best judge of her likes and dislikes."

"Boys," Beth said, rolling her eyes. She was obviously annoyed with the pair of them. "Why do you even care what I'm doing, Spencer? Don't you have plans of your own?"

A slow smile spread across his face. He looked Alex up and down. "Yeah, I've got a few things of my own to look into today."

"Good luck with that," Alex said, hooking his arm around Beth's tense back and leading her toward the hotel doors.

She was stuck with Charlie. It had to be written in the stars. She'd told him three dozen times in the four block walk to the florist that she didn't need him around, that he could go back to the hotel, that she was fine on her own. But he refused to take a hint.

The worst part of it was that she wasn't even sure that she wanted him to. She knew that she should—he had proven to be a dangerous man, after all—but knowing something and feeling it were two different things. And the truth was, she was having a hell of a time getting him out of her head.

She'd wasted her time in the spa trying to figure out her feelings toward him. She felt some fear, sure. She wasn't used to guns or secret plans. But for some reason she wasn't scared of him. He'd been kind to her. He'd been helpful. He'd had every reason to be angry with her this morning for poking her nose into his stuff, but he hadn't been. He'd actually tried to calm her down.

So she'd wasted what should have been the most relaxing time before the wedding desperately trying to figure him out. After two hours, she still didn't have an answer. She'd been hoping that a nice long walk alone might bring some clarity, but then he'd appeared at her side.

She should be past letting him surprise her.

She opened the door of florist shop and found him exactly where she'd left him, leaning against a brick wall, watching the traffic go by. He turned his face toward her as she stepped outside.

"All done?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Was that all you needed to do?"

"Yeah." She started walking back in the direction of the hotel. Within a few steps he was right back at her side.

"Do you want to get some lunch?" He gave her the same smile that he had given her in the lounge last night, the one that turned her knees to jelly and set her heart fluttering in her chest. She hadn't felt those things since she'd been sixteen and Carlos Diaz had put his arm around her at a party.

"There was an Ethiopian place that we passed on our way here that looked pretty good."

"Um, I'm not sure," she said.

"How's that? Either you're hungry or you're not."

Beth stopped mid-stride and turned toward him. "Why do you want to have lunch with me?"

"I didn't know I needed a reason," he said.

She sighed and shook her head. "Yeah, you do. And a good one, too. Because I want to know what the hell is going on here."

"Nothing is going on," he said.

"Like hell," she said. "I don't know anything about you, Charlie. I don't even know your real name. All I do know is that you are armed, and have mysterious plans for the hotel that my best friend is getting married in this weekend. You're helping me with my silly little domestic problems, even though I can't figure out any way that it could possibly benefit you. And despite all of this, I can't seem to get you out of my head. So, yeah, I'm going to need a reason that I should be in your presence any more than I absolutely have to."

"You can't stop thinking about me?" A grin pulled up the corners of his mouth.

Beth threw her hands up in the air. She turned away from him and strode in the direction of the hotel. She wouldn't slow down until she got there. Screw her pride. She'd hide out for the rest of the weekend in Isobel's room if she had to. Poor Jordan might find it a little awkward come Sunday night, but she was sure he'd understand once she explained.

_Sorry Jordan, but your wedding night is going to have to wait since through a series of mind-blowingly bad decisions, I have passed off a felon as my boyfriend, and he's down in my room right now, planning God knows what._

Her humiliation would be complete.

"Beth," his voice sounded a few feet behind her.

She ignored him and kept going. She stormed her way through the crowded sidewalk. She weaved in and out of the crowd, tears welling up in her eyes. Pity was a self-indulgent emotion, but if she'd ever been tempted to give in to it, now was the time.

Beth lifted her head just in time to see a man walking right toward her. She moved a few inches to the right. He mirrored her moves. Beth slowed her step. There was a look in the man's eyes that disturbed her. Something wasn't right.

"Beth," Charlie shouted. There was no annoyance in his voice now, only warning. Beth stopped cold. Something glinted in the man's hand. The same glint she'd seen from Charlie's bag. He had a gun. And he was coming for her.

She didn't have time to run. He was only a couple of feet away. She didn't even have time to scream.

A second later, Beth was jarred hard to the left. Charlie's body slammed into her, shoving her into a small dark alley. She stumbled but kept her feet.

The alley was narrow, only big enough for a trash can to be pulled between two buildings. It was barely wide enough for her to see around Charlie.

He stood with his back to her at the entrance of the alley. His whole demeanor had changed. His shoulders were locked, his legs braced. He was ready for a fight.

He was trying to protect her, she realized.

The stupid man was going to get himself killed. You couldn't punch your way out of a gun fight. Even Beth knew that.

The man with the gun turned the corner, right into Charlie's path. Beth screamed out to warn him. She needn't have bothered.

Charlie's palm shot out and curled around the man's right wrist. He wrenched it back at an unnatural angle. The man's face contorted in pain, but he held tight to the weapon. Charlie pulled back farther, until there was a sickening crack of bone and tendon. Only then did the man's hand involuntarily drop the gun. It clattered on the pavement and slid into the drainage ditch by the side of the building.

Even with a badly broken wrist, the man still went after Charlie, punching with his left hand. Charlie ducked out of the way and the heel of his hand crashed against the man's nose. Blood poured out, but the attacker still kept coming.

There was a lethal grace to Charlie's movements, and his attacker's, as well. Fists flew faster than Beth could keep track of in the small, dark space. There was no wasted movement. No time to get a reaction wrong.

_He's coming for me_ , she thought. It didn't make any sense. There was no reason. And yet she knew it as surely as anything. This man didn't just want to kill someone. He wanted to kill her. And if Charlie fell, he was going to.

But Charlie didn't fall. Beth watched in wonder as every punch Charlie threw connected.

The man stumbled back a few feet at Charlie's last blow. Both men had time to regroup. The attacker pulled out a shiny blade. Thin and four inches long, he held it in his palm like it was an extension of his hand. The next hit he connected to Charlie would kill him. The man smiled through the fountain of blood that poured down his face.

This fight was as good as over.

He rushed Charlie.

Charlie didn't flinch. He waited until the man barreling toward him was close, then he slid his back against the wall and used the man's own momentum against him. Charlie pushed against his attacker's back. The man stumbled, unable to regain his balance. He fell past Charlie, stopping just short of Beth.

She skittered back until her back was against the wall at the back of the alley. She was trapped.

The man looked up. His eyes locked with hers. His mouth twisted up in a murderous grin. He rushed her.

Faster than Beth could blink, Charlie wrapped his arms around the man's neck. With one sickening twist, her attacker's head snapped to the side. A vacant look instantly filled his eyes, and his body went slack. His dead weight slumped to the ground.

Beth stared. That didn't just happen. It couldn't have.

She pressed her spine against the jagged brick wall at her back, desperate to get away from the body.

A body. Dear God, there was a dead body in front of her. Dead eyes looked past her, but she couldn't look away.

"Beth."

She barely heard her name. It sounded like it was coming from far away. Her knees began to buckle. She didn't want to fall. If she did, she'd fall on top of it.

Oh God.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a rush of air that sputtered at the end.

"Are you all right?" Charlie grasped her upper arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. She kept staring at the dead man. Charlie gave her a little shake when she didn't answer. "Are you hurt?"

She looked up at him. There was concern in his eyes. Concern and something else. Fear. He was afraid she'd been hurt.

The concern confused her more than anything. He'd just killed a man, right in front of her. And he'd done it with a kind of graceful efficiency that told her this wasn't the first time he'd done such a thing.

"Beth?"

She shook her head. "I-I'm not hurt," she said.

He looked her up and down once before trusting her words. Only then did he let her go.

"Don't look at him, Beth," Charlie said calmly. "Look at me."

Beth snapped her eyes back to Charlie's face and kept them there.

"Y-you killed him." Her lips struggled to form the words.

"I did," he said. He put his hand out to her. It was covered in blood. "You're safe now."

"You killed him," she repeated, louder this time.

He held his finger up to his lips. She glanced behind him. Just beyond was a city street, filled with sunlight and people. Someone could walk by at any moment. Someone could look down the alley and catch them with a dead body.

"I had to. He was going to kill you, Beth."

She shook her head frantically. "Why? Why would anyone want to kill me?" The words tumbled out of her. She didn't expect an answer, and he didn't give one.

"Breathe," he told her. "Sit down if you need to."

Beth nodded. She derived a strange sense of calm from the orders that he gave her. Someone else was in charge, and she didn't have to figure out what to do. She only had to listen. There was no reason in her brain right now. There was only the haunting image of life flickering out of the dead man's eyes.

She slid down the wall until her legs were tucked underneath her.

"I need to move him," Charlie said. His words floated in and out of Beth's head. "You might want to look away."

Beth nodded, but her eyes stayed fixed on Charlie as he grabbed the dead man by the arms. He pulled him easily around the corner. With barely a grunt, he lifted the large man into the dumpster and arranged some garbage bags over him. Then he pulled out his phone. He pressed a single button and waited.

He spoke softly into the phone. Beth didn't catch every word he said, but it sounded like he was giving someone their location. After that there were some words she didn't understand, then a series of letters and numbers. Beth didn't try too hard to make sense of it.

A minute later, he came over and held out his hand. She stared at it. He'd wiped off most of the blood, but there was still some buried in the creases of his palm and underneath his fingernails.

"Beth," he prompted her, breaking her out of her dark thoughts. "I need to get you out of here."

Her hand was openly shaking as she slid it into his. He pulled her up, and tucked her against his side.

Beth winced as the light hit her eyes, making it almost impossible to see in the bright, midday sun. She hadn't been in the alley for more than a few minutes, but it seemed like an eternity.

"Shouldn't we call the police?" she asked, once her brain had caught up.

"I've already taken care of it," he said. The phone call. Of course he had.

He started walking, pulling her behind him on the sidewalk.

"Shouldn't we wait until they get here?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. There might be more men. They might be watching us right now."

Beth's heart pounded. He didn't have to clarify who he meant. More men who wanted to attack her. They could be around every corner. But why would they be? It didn't make any sense. None of this did.

She stumbled, and he pulled her closer. She leaned against him, her legs like jelly, letting him take the brunt of her weight. He didn't seem to mind.

"It's just the adrenaline," he said. "You'll be fine in a little while."

She nodded because she couldn't think of anything else to do. The people passing by paid them no attention. They didn't seem to notice the flecks of blood that dotted Charlie's jacket, or her shaking legs.

"It's only another couple of blocks back to the hotel," he said. "You're going to make it."

Of course she would. What choice did she have? She couldn't break down in the middle of the street, just because her entire life had just changed back in that alley. She'd watched a man die. She'd been part of it.

She couldn't think about that. Right now, all she had to do was concentrate on keeping one foot in front of the other.

Somehow she managed.

Then she had to get up to the fourth floor. She pulled away from Charlie and hurried through the lobby. She didn't care anymore if anyone thought that something was wrong with her.

All she wanted to be was safe in her room, reasonably certain that no one with a gun or knife would be coming through the locked door. She took the stairs. There was no way that she was waiting for the elevator. Charlie kept pace with her. She didn't stop until every lock on the door was bolted behind her.

Then the tears came. She wasn't even aware of them at first. It wasn't until her shoulders started shaking that she realized she was crying.

Her legs gave out underneath her and she crumpled onto the floor. In an instant, Charlie was there, wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in close, just like he'd done when he was helping her back to the hotel. Just like he'd been every moment since she'd walked into the hotel. Charlie was there.

# Chapter 6

He let her cry. He couldn't have stopped her sobs even if he wanted to. Besides, it was better if she processed all the emotions swirling inside her. Her mind would be clearer once she got it all out of her system. Maybe then he would be able to get the information he needed from her.

They had very little time before guests arrived. It wouldn't take long for John's crew to find the body and clean up the mess. After that John would be coming up to talk to Beth.

There were still tears in Beth's eyes when she stopped crying ten minutes later, but the worst of the shaking had subsided. He helped her up off the floor and led her to a chair, sitting down next to her.

"We have to talk," he said quietly.

She stared off into the distance for a second before nodding.

"Can you think of any reason why someone would want you dead?" he asked.

She turned toward him, her eyes unfocused. First, confusion swam in the honey-brown depths, then certainty.

"No one," she said. "That guy had to be a mugger or something. A random psychopath."

"No, he wasn't."

"Of course he was."

He could see the wheels turning in her head, as she frantically tried to make sense of a situation that had ripped a hole in all that she believed. He'd seen it so many times, but he'd never before wanted to pull someone into his arms and tell them that everything was going to be all right.

"That man wasn't a mugger, Beth. His name was Bruno Staal. He was a well known hit man for several criminal organizations."

"You knew him?" she asked. Her eyes lit up with certainty. "He was after you."

"He wasn't."

"Of course he was. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Alex shook his head. "Staal didn't give me a second look until I pushed you into that alley."

"Then how did you know him?" she asked.

"It's my job to know."

"Your job?" The look in her eyes changed. Wariness filled her body. She pulled away, just a fraction of an inch, enough to feel like she'd stabbed a dagger deep into his chest. "Who the hell are you? I want the truth."

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "My name is Alex Tanner. I'm with the CIA."

She looked at him in confusion, as if he had spoken a foreign language she didn't understand.

"The CIA?" she repeated.

He nodded.

"What the hell is the CIA doing at my best friend's wedding?"

"Not the whole CIA. Just me. The mission I'm on is being led by the Department of Homeland Security."

"A mission? What mission could you possibly have at Isobel's—" She stopped short, her mouth slightly open as she thought. "This has to do with Isobel's uncle, doesn't it?"

He leaned forward. "You know about Salvatore Munoz?"

"Yeah, I guess. Only what Isobel has told me. I know he's bad news. I've only met him a couple of times, but each time he's freaked me out," she said. "You think that someone associated with Salvatore Munoz wants to kill me?"

"Staal was a known associate of Munoz. He was connected to over a hundred murders and disappearances. If he was coming for you today, there was a reason. He received his orders from someone."

Fear lit up her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her middle. He didn't like seeing her afraid, but he wasn't going to lie to her. If she was marked by Munoz she had a right to know just how bad it was.

He reached out and put a hand on her knee. She looked at it warily, but didn't move away.

"What I said this morning is still true, Beth. I will keep you safe. I promise."

Three light knocks rapped against the door. Beth nearly jumped out of the chair, her eyes wide with fear.

"It's all right," he said. "We're expecting company."

Beth jumped to her feet as a stranger entered the room. He was tall, solidly built and looked to be about the same age as Char—Alex. The men greeted each other with a handshake. Still, Beth went around to the other side of the chair.

Alex might know this guy, but that didn't mean that she was going to greet him with open arms. Hell, she wasn't sure if she would ever trust another stranger in her life.

The men whispered for a couple of seconds. The stranger's eyes flashed toward her. She really wanted to believe Alex when he said that he was going to keep her safe, but this wasn't exactly the kind of behavior that inspired confidence.

"Hey," she said. Both men turned toward her. "Maybe I've seen too many movies, but please tell me that this isn't the part where you decide that I know too much, then turn around and shoot me."

The stranger arched a brow but no other hint of expression showed on his face. If his career in government intimidation didn't work out, he had a future as a poker player. "Miss Bradley?"

"Yeah," she said, gripping the back of the chair even tighter. She had the distinct feeling she'd just poked a tiger with a stick.

"I am Agent John Ryman, and I assure you I came up here with no intention of doing you any harm."

Beth looked toward Alex for confirmation.

"It's okay, Beth. John is cool," he said.

"You're sure about that?"

He gave a little laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure."

" _How_ are you sure?" She wasn't taking anything on faith right now.

"We were in the Navy together."

She looked between the two formidable men. "What, were you guys on the same SEAL team, or something?"

Alex and his friend stared at her silently.

Okay, then.

Agent Ryman took a step toward her. Beth fought off the urge to take a step back. There was nothing soothing or suave about the man. She didn't doubt for a second that he was every bit as deadly and dangerous as Alex...Agent Alex Tanner. He just didn't hide it nearly as well.

"Why don't you tell me everything that happened this afternoon, Miss Bradley," he said, taking a seat. The fact that he was lower than her did nothing to take away his menacing air.

Beth shot a glance at Alex.

"John's here to help," he said.

"A crazy man came after me with a gun," she said. "There isn't much more to the story."

"Can you think of any reason why someone would want to put a hit out on you?" Agent Ryman asked.

"No. It doesn't make any sense."

Agent Ryman's eyes narrowed. "There has to be some reason."

Beth's pulse began to race. It was bad enough nearly getting killed out in the street. She didn't need some thick-necked stranger suggesting that she'd brought it on herself.

"And if I knew it, I would tell you," Beth said. "Isn't it possible that this Bruno guy was just trying to get to Charlie—I mean, Alex—through me?"

"Doubtful," Agent Ryman said.

Beth waited for him to explain, but he didn't say anything else. Apparently, she was just supposed to take his word for it.

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

"And why is it so doubtful?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

A sardonic smile lifted just the right corner of John's lips. He glanced down at the floor, shaking his head. "If Bruno Staal had known that he would be meeting Alex in that alley today he would have come armed with a hell of a lot more than a pistol and a knife. He would have brought an army."

Agent Ryman's words drained the fire out of Beth's belly, and she swallowed hard. Who the hell was Alex Tanner? Was he really as dangerous as this guy made him sound? Of course he was. She'd already seen proof of that.

Her hands started to shake again.

Agent Ryman looked up at Alex. It was obvious that the men had known each other for a while. Alex took over.

"I need you to focus, Beth. Is there any reason that Isobel's uncle might want to hurt you?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No. I barely know Salvatore. I've probably only said half a dozen words to him in the last fifteen years."

"It's okay, Beth. Just think. Is there anything that happened in the past?"

"Nothing."

Agent Ryman leaned forward. "How about the bride? Isobel? Could she have any reason to want you dead?"

Beth's fear instantly turned to anger at the question. She glared at him. Trained killer or not, she wasn't about to listen to him slander her friend. "This has nothing to do with Isobel."

"We can't be sure of that," Agent Ryman said evenly.

" _You_ might not be sure, but I'm goddamned certain," she said. "Char—Alex, tell this guy that there's no way that Isobel is involved with anything to do with her uncle. She's as afraid of him as I am."

"John's just doing his job. He's here to help keep you safe, and right now that means we can't rule out any option," Alex said, lowering his voice.

She was starting to recognize the manipulation technique. Well, it wasn't going to work on her. They could go and find someone else to play good cop/bad cop with. Or whatever the hell they were.

"You're wasting your time looking at Isobel," she said. "But to answer your question, no. There's no reason she'd want to hurt me. I'm her maid of honor, for heaven's sake."

Agent Ryman leaned forward. "Think hard, Miss Bradley. Something had to spark this attempt on your life. At this point nothing is too small to consider."

"Seriously, there's been noth—" Beth froze, her tongue still trapped between her teeth. The memory of Salvatore's angry face flashed through her mind. She'd interrupted him in the laundry room. She remembered the envelope, the briefcase that had been pushed his way. The murderous look in his eyes when he'd seen her. She thought of what the man with him had whispered to Salvatore.

_Not here._

Oh, dear God.

Beth looked up from the floor. Her gaze locked with Alex's.

"I think I know what this is about."

She relayed the story of what had happened earlier that morning. Alex stiffened as she told the details of the threat she had seen in his eyes. Agent Ryman listened with less attention.

"I was so upset after finding your gun this morning that I guess I forgot all about it," she said. "I haven't thought about it all day."

"You found Alex's gun?" Agent Ryman asked incredulously, cracking a trace of a grin at Alex.

Alex brushed him off. "This man who was with Salvatore Munoz, did you get a good look at him?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. He was as close to me as Salvatore was."

"Do you think that you would recognize him if you saw him again?" Alex asked.

Beth nodded. That moment was etched in her mind. She recalled every second and sound of it. If she ever ran into that man again, she'd know.

"Can you give me a description?" Agent Ryman asked.

"White guy. Tall...ish, maybe six feet. Brown hair, cut above his ears. Late thirties, early forties. Brown eyes. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt."

Alex and Agent Ryman shared a look, not a particularly happy one. She'd just described about a third of the hotel's guests.

"Was there anything distinguishing about him at all?" Ryman asked.

Beth shook her head. "Not that I can remember," she said. "Is he important?"

The men glanced at each other before looking back at her. She knew what they were doing—they were figuring out how much to tell her, and she didn't like it one bit. She had spilled everything she knew, even when all she had wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide under the bed for the next ten years.

"Tell me who he is," she said. "If my life is in danger, I deserve to know."

"The man you saw is the reason why I'm at this hotel," Alex said after a long moment had passed.

"I thought you were here for Salvatore Munoz."

"That's why he's here." Alex inclined his head toward Agent Ryman. "I'm here to capture a CIA leak."

"So, who is this guy?" she asked.

"We don't know," Agent Ryman said.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Around the time that we found out that Munoz would be traveling to the United States, we discovered a breach of classified information concerning the strategic oil reserves. We have reason to believe that someone working inside the CIA is looking to sell that information to the Venezuelans."

"That must have been what I interrupted."

"It makes sense," Alex said. "They would have to meet face to face. A digital transmission would be too easy for us to trace. Whoever this guy is, he knows that. He's good at covering his tracks."

Beth rounded the chair and sat down. She wasn't frightened anymore. She was just tired.

"So, I'm the only one who can identify him?" she asked, deflating as reality sunk in.

"It looks that way," Agent Ryman said.

"This guy you're after, he's not just going to give up, is he? He's going to come after me again."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Alex said. And she wanted to believe him. Dear God, she did. But, as usual, what she wanted and reality were two different things.

"I don't see how you can. You can't fight off every hit man in the world."

"Actually—" Agent Ryman started.

"And even if you could," she broke in before she could hear any more scary revelations about Agent Alex Tanner, "I would never put you in that position."

Beth looked down at the floor. It was far easier to face the wavy patterns in the carpet under her feet than the pained expression on Alex's face.

"It's my job," he said.

She laughed without humor. "Of course, it is. I think I liked it better when I thought you were going to hold us all for ransom."

"You thought I was going to hold you hostage?" Alex asked.

Beth shook her head. "It was just one of many theories I had running in my head."

"You thought this, and you weren't going to try and stop me?" he asked, amused.

"It was pretty far down on the list. Mostly I just thought that you were going to rob the place."

"Yeah, that's a lot better."

Beth shrugged. Things had seemed a whole lot easier when she'd woken up this morning. Back then she'd only been plagued by nightmares and existential dread. Those were the days.

"How bad would it be if the people Munoz works for got their hands on this information?" she asked.

"Bad," Agent Ryman answered. "There are those who could profit a great deal if something were to happen to our oil supply."

Beth nodded. A silence filled the room.

"So what happens now?"

"Now, you leave the hotel with John," Alex said. "He'll show you some pictures, and you see if you can pick out the man you saw."

"Leave?" Beth said, looking up. "For how long?"

"For however long it takes for us to ensure your safety," he said.

"I can't go. Isobel's wedding is in two days."

"It's just a wedding, Beth. It isn't worth your life."

Beth shook her head. "I can't just disappear. What am I supposed to tell Isobel?"

"It doesn't matter. Tell her you're sick," he said.

"She's never going to believe that. Especially if you're still hanging around," she said. "Why don't you go grab Isobel's uncle, confiscate all his stuff and ship him out of the country?"

Ryman shook his head. "There are diplomatic issues."

"Diplomatic issues? Coming here to buy government secrets doesn't qualify as a diplomatic issue?"

"I can't do anything without proof," Agent Ryman said.

"Sending a hit man after a witness doesn't qualify as proof?"

Agent Ryman sat back in his seat. He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and drew in a long breath. Beth had the distinct feeling that he was a man who wasn't used to anyone talking back to him. He looked over at Alex.

"We need to talk," he said. "Alone."

"We can't take her out of this hotel."

"It's not negotiable, John. I'm not putting her in any more danger," Alex said.

"We don't have a choice," John said. "It sounds like your guy has already made the drop. The damage is done. And your asset there isn't going to fix it by looking through some personnel files."

"You can't be serious," Alex said. His tone was low, his stare lethal. John didn't blink.

"You're not thinking straight. We've been handed a perfect situation."

"Now I know you're joking. Beth's life is on the line."

"Exactly. We know your guy will come back to finish the job, and you have the perfect cover to be right next to her when he does."

"It's too risky. I promised her I wouldn't put her in harm's way," Alex said.

"I think that you're letting your emotions get the better of you," John said.

"There's no emotion here."

"Really? Because you just snapped a man's neck without getting any useful information out of him."

Alex barked out a bitter laugh. "I got plenty of information. Munoz is after Beth. He wants her dead. Staal didn't stop, not even once he knew he was outmatched. He kept going for her. They won't stop until they get her."

"Exactly. They won't. Ever," John said. His tone was cold and practical. "So, I only see two choices here. Your girl goes into hiding for the rest of her life, or we end this now. The way I see it, we're better off dealing with it here."

"With Beth as bait? It's too risky."

"You've only known this asset for a little over twenty-four hours, Alex. Who is this woman, and what the hell does she mean to you?" John asked. There was concern in his friend's eyes, and more than a little confusion.

Alex didn't have an answer for him. Not a good one, at any rate. He wasn't the kind to let his heart rule his head. He wasn't soft. What was he supposed to say? That she had brought him a muffin? That her laugh made him smile? That her talent for finding trouble pulled at him in a way that he didn't fully understand?

"She doesn't deserve any of this," he said, knowing full well that it wasn't the answer John wanted. "She's innocent."

"Innocent? You reported that she was blackmailing you."

"It wasn't like that," Alex protested.

"Listen, Alex. Beth is an asset. A good one. She's the only person that can make a positive ID on our traitor. We need her here, and you know it."

Alex shook his head even though John was right.

"He'll come for her again," Alex said. "He doesn't have a choice."

"And we'll be waiting for him," John said. "You both just have to go on like nothing has happened. Keep up with the wedding. It'll confuse him. It will make him bold."

Alex looked down. He ground his back teeth. "I don't like it," he said.

"You don't have to," John said. "But be careful, Alex. We're counting on this man's emotions making him sloppy. I can't afford to have the same thing happen to you."

"I'm staying," Beth said as the men came out of the bedroom. She'd heard the low murmur of their whispers, but she hadn't been able to decipher the actual words. Not that it took much imagination to figure it out.

Someone wanted her dead. She could either run, or stand and fight. Neither option thrilled her. Still, she'd made her decision.

She waited for them to say something, to start with the rationalizations, the manipulation, the bargaining, but it didn't come. Both men stared at her, implacable.

Maybe she needed to go further. "These people are bad, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Alex said.

"They're not above going after the people that I care about to get to me, are they?"

"No," Agent Ryman said. His voice was even, but she heard a slight hint of admiration. Not that she cared. She wasn't doing this so anyone would think highly of her.

"Then I'm staying."

A muscle in Alex's jaw twitched, but he didn't move any closer. He stayed just outside the doorway. His arms were crossed in front of his chest. Whatever conclusion he and Agent Ryman had reached in the other room, it was pretty obvious that he didn't like it. Her declaration wasn't doing much to brighten his mood either.

"I'm glad that you feel that way, because we can use you," John Ryman said. He took the seat across from the bed.

Alex grunted with irritation. This was the first time that she had seen him this way, the first chink that she'd glimpsed in his heavy armor. It dawned on her that it was the first time that she was seeing him as his true self. He'd never quite fit into the mold that she had tried to cast for him, neither as Charlie or the nameless car thief.

But Agent Tanner fit him perfectly. She was still uneasy with the skill and lack of hesitation with which he had dispatched the man who tried to kill her. But at least he was on her side. That counted for something. Who was she kidding? Right now it counted for a whole hell of a lot.

Beth switched her attention to Agent Ryman as he explained the plan to have her continue her role of bridesmaid, luring the traitor out into the open. It was a decent plan, even if the idea of being human bait made her stomach churn.

"Alex will stay by your side every moment," John said.

Beth turned toward him.

"I promised to keep you safe, and I'm going to do that," he said. He didn't seem too happy about it. Beth knew a guilty face when she saw one.

"Thanks," she said. His jaw twitched again. Apparently, he wasn't much interested in having that guilt assuaged.

"We'll also be putting a full team into the hotel for the rest of the weekend," John said. "You may not see us, but rest assured, we'll be there."

Beth's life had turned upside down. Now she had a bodyguard instead of a pretend boyfriend. It was a covert operation instead of her best friend's wedding.

"You just let us know if you need anything," Agent Ryman said, standing up.

"A cheeseburger," Beth said.

"Excuse me?" John Ryman said.

"You just said to tell you if I need anything. I need a cheeseburger. And fries."

John gave her a slow nod.

"With bacon," she added.

Alex raised his eyebrows.

"What? I was just nearly murdered in the street. On top of being scared and mentally exhausted, I'm starving. I think I deserve a little bacon."

For the first time since he'd stepped into the room, Agent Ryman smiled. "I couldn't agree more, Miss Bradley. I'll see what I can do for you."

The men nodded at each other. Beth had no trouble hearing Agent Ryman's whisper this time. "I've changed my mind. When all this is over, you should marry her."

# Chapter 7

Beth practically dove into the burger, which was dripping with melted cheese, bacon grease and beef juice. If she hadn't seen Alex Tanner in a towel just that morning, she would have sworn that this burger was the sexiest thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

After a month of fruit for breakfast and salads for everything else, it was ambrosia. The gods themselves couldn't have made a more perfect hamburger.

Beth wiped a dribble of cheddar off her chin. She lifted her head and found Alex staring at her. She tried for a smile, but her cheeks were still stuffed.

"It's good to see you eating," he said.

Beth swallowed. "I'm not going to lie, this might be the best thing that I've ever tasted."

Alex smiled back, but he stayed on the other side of the room. He'd been there ever since Agent Ryman had left. She was still sitting cross-legged on the bed. Something had changed.

She'd say that he'd become distant, but it was a physical distance only. She could still feel the weight of his gaze on her.

His guilt hadn't faded. And Beth doubted Alex was a man who spent much time feeling guilty. She could help him with that. If there was one thing she knew, it was how to carry that particular weight around.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked. Agent Ryman had sent up two trays, but Alex hadn't touched his yet.

Alex shook his head.

"You're missing out," she said.

"We should talk about your schedule for the next couple of days," he said after another few minutes had passed. "You'll probably have to cancel a few things."

"Okay." Beth picked up her phone between bites and opened the calendar. She listed off the events—a cocktail reception tonight, a trip to the Museum of Modern Art, the wedding rehearsal and the dinner that followed. Then the ceremony on Sunday at noon. She'd have to spend the whole morning getting ready with Isobel.

"You'll have to cancel tomorrow's trip," he said.

Her smile fell. She understood, but that didn't mean that she wasn't disappointed. She had been looking forward to spending a little more time with Isobel before she became Mrs. Masterson.

"Should I cancel tonight as well?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "No. We'd better go to that one," he said. "We're going to need to have you out in the open at some point."

Beth swallowed a little harder. _Out in the open_. She knew she was bait, but she didn't much like the image that sprung up in her mind: a worm wriggling on a hook.

Alex didn't seem any happier. His scowl deepened.

"It's not your fault, you know," Beth said before taking another bite.

Alex turned away from the window. "Excuse me?"

"This whole situation. None of it is your fault," she said.

The intensity in his eyes increased, and he stared at her for a few seconds. Beth did her best not to squirm under his scrutiny.

Well, she was the one who opened the door. She might as well go through it. "I'm just saying that I probably would have gotten into trouble whether you were around or not."

"That doesn't make any sense, Beth."

"Sure it does," she said. "I have a way of finding trouble. I'm always stumbling into it."

She polished off the last of the fries on the plate. They were perfect too. Crisp on the outside, but inside they were so buttery they practically dissolved on her tongue. Maybe it wasn't sex that she was hard up for; it was food.

She risked another glance at Alex. Yeah, no such luck. Her belly was full to bursting now, and he still looked every bit as smokin' hot as he had this morning.

She finished chewing and swallowed. This wasn't working. He wanted a solution. She wanted a conversation.

He took a step toward her. His expression hardened. It wasn't guilt that was darkening his eyes now, but something else. "This isn't pretend, Beth. This isn't trying to save face in front of your mother and ex-boyfriend. There are men out there who are trying to kill you. And they're not going to stop until they do."

He stopped in the archway that separated the bedroom from the sitting room. Something prevented him from coming closer.

He was afraid of something. She couldn't believe it. She hadn't known him all that long, granted, but she'd never seen a flicker of anything close to fear pass through him. But she did now.

"I know," she said, trying to calm him.

"No, you don't, Beth."

She put her plate on the bedside table and swiveled around to step down on the floor. Alex took a step back.

Dear God, he was afraid of her. But that didn't make any sense. Not even a little bit.

"I'm just saying that even if I hadn't met you, even if I had stayed in my own room last night, there is still a very good chance that I wouldn't have slept through the night," she said, sitting back down on the bed. "Sure, it wouldn't have been the thought of you sleeping just a few feet away that would have woken me up. But it would have been something else. It's always something."

"You were thinking about me?"

Beth rolled her eyes. Of course she was. Any woman with a pulse would be. Surely he was aware of the effect he had on women—her in particular.

"I'm trying to tell you, that's not important. I could have just as easily been worrying about how Spencer was going to make my life miserable the next day. Or how I was going to get through another morning with my mother on my back. It doesn't matter. Either way, it would have been my body that John fished out of that dumpster today."

His expression turned hard. She couldn't blame him. A cold shiver went through her.

"The only reason that didn't happen is because you were there with me," she said.

His back was up against the archway. Deep lines were etched around the corners of his eyes. None of his tension faded. Couldn't he see that she was just trying to let him off the hook?

"I guess, I'm just trying to say thank you," she said. "And I'm sorry that I've put you in the position of having to look out for me."

He shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying."

Beth laughed. "No, I think I do. I know I've been a pain in the ass since the moment that you met me."

"You're not so bad."

"You're sweet, but I know how I am," she said.

He was quiet for a long moment. Beth didn't push. Instead, she just sat in silence and waited. Waited for him to say something. Anything.

"You have dark circles under your eyes," he finally said.

It wasn't exactly the sentimental declaration she'd been hoping for.

"I'm a little tired," she said. It was a lie. She was exhausted.

He nodded. His gaze was inscrutable. "You should take a nap before we have to go downstairs."

Beth suppressed a laugh. "After everything that's happened, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to feel safe enough to sleep again."

"It's all right," he said. "Rest. I'll stand guard."

Beth nodded. Her eyes were drooping before she'd pulled a pillow out from under the bedspread. She didn't think that she'd fall asleep, not with all the residual adrenaline pumping through her veins. But there wouldn't be any harm in closing her eyes. Just for a few minutes.

Beth snapped her head up. Her eyes flew open as a terrible buzzing filled the room.

She twisted around in the sheets looking for the source. She found it on the bedside table. Her phone.

She snatched it up and looked down at the screen.

Her mother.

Beth hit the decline button. There was no way that she was awake enough to take that call right now.

Soft laughter came from the next room. Beth put down the phone and squinted, trying to get her tired eyes to focus on the form sitting several feet away.

"That thing has been going off practically non-stop since you fell asleep," Alex said. She might not be able to see him clearly, but she'd recognize that voice anywhere. "I'm amazed it took this long to wake you up."

Beth rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"How long have I been out?" she asked.

"A while."

She checked her phone: it was six thirty-two.

Crap. No wonder the phone had been ringing off the hook. They were over a half hour late for Isobel's cocktail reception. She had four missed calls—three from her mother—and six unread text messages.

Beth flew from the bed, clutching her phone. "Why did you let me sleep so long?" she shouted as she ran into the bathroom.

"You needed the rest," came the answer, without a hint of apology. "Besides, you're kind of cute when you're asleep."

Beth took stock of herself in the mirror. Now she knew he was making fun of her. Her clothes were terribly wrinkled. Her hair was matted on one side. And was that a line of dried drool on her cheek?

Of course it was. Heaven help her, she'd probably been snoring too.

Beth fired off a quick text to Isobel.

_Sorry. Time got away from me. Be down in ten minutes._

She glanced at the smeared mascara under her eyes, and changed the _ten_ to _fifteen_. She briefly considered sending the same text to her mother, but put the phone down on the counter.

Nineteen minutes later they were in the elevator. Beth checked her hair one last time in the polished steel wall panel. It wasn't great. It wasn't hideous either. As usual, a tight ponytail hid a multitude of sins.

Maybe not _dumping a body in the garbage_ sin, but certainly the _slept through the alarm_ kind. What did it say about her that right now she was more concerned with the latter than the former? She decided not to judge herself too harshly. If she stopped too long to think about the situation her stomach started doing backflips.

Alex slipped his hand into hers. Her nerves must have been showing. "Everything is going to be okay," he said.

She wanted to believe him. She really did. But she couldn't. Nothing was okay. Everything had changed, and there was no way she could go back to the person she had been. The one who bumbled through life, uncertain of where she was going or what she was doing.

Now people were depending on her, not only for their safety, but for their very lives.

She realized with some sadness that she had never taken a close look at her life until it was in danger. Maybe not being able to go back wasn't such a bad thing—if she lived through this.

She clenched Alex's hand as the lobby bell sounded and the doors slid open. There was no machine gun welcome committee. She sighed in relief.

Beth looked around the lobby. She didn't see anyone she recognized. Of course not. Everyone she knew was already at the party. There were a few people on the couches, some with drinks in their hands, some with magazines and computers. No one looked their way.

At least a couple of them had to be federal agents. Alex's expression gave nothing away.

Beth jumped a little as her phone went off in her purse. Alex squeezed her hand. She wasn't sure if it was reassurance or a reminder to play it cool. Either way, she thought that she was doing pretty well under the circumstances.

She pulled her phone out. There was a message from Isobel.

_Seriously. Where the hell are you?_

Alex read it over her shoulder. "Remember, even though you're with people you trust, you don't leave my side. Not to go to the bathroom. Not to the bar. Not even for a second," he said.

"Isobel isn't trying to kill me," Beth said, annoyed. Still, she didn't complain when Alex stayed a step ahead of her as they walked into the lounge.

Beth glanced around the packed lounge. It was filled with wedding guests, most of whom she knew. Every unknown face stood out in the crowd. Was it her imagination or were people paying more attention to her than usual?

Alex gave the place a quick scan as well. He nodded casually in her direction when he was done, and led her deeper into the crowd.

"I think we're all right," he said. "Salvatore isn't here. He probably just found out about Staal's failure."

"Okay." She didn't know what else to say.

Alex let go of her hand and dug into his pocket for his phone. She drew in a long, steady breath as he checked the screen. She was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked.

_Hell, yes_.

"No, thanks," she said. Whatever was coming, it would be better if she faced it with her facilities intact.

He nodded. They stood outside the huddled groups of guests. Panic started to build inside her in earnest. Back in her room, it had been easy to make her decision to stay. But now, out in the open, she felt like a target. Beth fought the frantic instinct to drag Alex back up the stairs, lock the door to their room and never come out again.

"Shall we mingle?" Alex asked.

"No, thanks."

"Why not?"

Beth shrugged her shoulders, trying to look casual. She had the feeling that she looked anything but. Alex discreetly pulled her to an empty spot along the wall and leaned in close. More than a few heads turned, and people whispered behind their hands. They must have looked like a couple of besotted lovers sharing a moment.

_If only._

"You doing all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're stiff as a board, and you don't want to talk to your friends."

"I'm—I'm fine," she insisted.

"I'm right here, Beth. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I'll be right behind you. All night."

"It's not me that I'm worried about."

"I promise you, I can take care of myself."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not you either...well, it's not entirely you. It's them." Beth gestured around the room. "What if someone tries to hurt them to get to me? What if Isobel or my mom or—hell, even Spencer gets caught in the crossfire?"

"There's not going to be any crossfire."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because they can't make this messy, Beth. The man who wants you dead needs it to look like an accident. He's hoping—no, he's counting on no one looking too deep into what happens to you. Taking out a ballroom full of people isn't in his playbook."

Alex leaned in close and pressed a small kiss against her cheek. It was a sweet gesture, one that did more to calm her nerves than he might ever know. And one that was totally ruined the second she heard Spencer's voice behind her.

"It looks like you two had a good day," he said, slurring his words. Beth looked at the drink in his hand. Indistinguishable brown liquid—the favorite drink of assholes everywhere—sloshed over the side of the tumbler. She was guessing it wasn't his first. Not by a long shot.

Alex slowly pulled away and looked Spencer up and down.

"Yeah, we did," he said, wrapping his arm around Beth.

"That's good," Spencer said. He leaned in close enough for Beth to catch the wave of alcohol-soaked breath that rolled out of his mouth. "I had a good day, too. I had some time on my hands, so I thought I'd make a phone call over to Bastion Records."

_Oh, no._

"Is that right?" Alex asked, his voice as relaxed as ever.

Beth swallowed past the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. This wasn't good.

"Turns out they don't have a Charlie Parker who works for them," Spencer said, obviously pleased with himself. He smiled wide enough for Beth to see his back teeth.

"Spencer—"

"Shut up, Beth. I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to _Charlie_ ," he said, poking his finger into the center of Alex's chest. "What do you have to say about that, tough guy?"

Bad move.

Alex pushed off the wall and stepped toe to toe with Spencer. His body was still relaxed, but Beth spied the twitch at his jaw that signaled the anger running through him.

"I think little boys shouldn't go poking their noses into things they don't understand," Alex said, his voice a low warning. "And I think that if you know what's good for you, you'll apologize to Beth for talking to her like that."

"Is that a threat?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm just spelling out your options."

Spencer took another swig of his drink. And then another. If he was looking for courage, he was going to need a few more glasses.

No matter how satisfying it would be to watch Alex clock Spencer, she probably shouldn't let it happen. There would be a big commotion. Someone would have to clean up the blood. She'd end up having to drive Isobel to the hospital to see her brother-in-law. It just wasn't worth it.

She grasped Alex's arm and pulled, but he didn't budge.

"Gentlemen," Beth said, "maybe we should finish this conversation some other time."

"You'd like that wouldn't you, Beth?" Spencer said, raising his voice. "Are you scared that everyone will find out the truth about you and your _boyfriend_ here?"

Beth froze. There was no way he could know the truth.

Fortunately, only a few people had turned to see what the fuss was about. The music was loud, and in his drunken state, Spencer wasn't as loud as he could be. But Beth had the feeling that he was just getting warmed up. If Spencer had the chance to be center stage, he'd take it, regardless of the humiliation that followed.

"You're embarrassing yourself, Spencer," she said in a low whisper.

"Me? _I'm_ an embarrassment?" he shouted. She should have known better than to appeal to his sense of shame—the little weasel didn't have any. "That's real funny coming from a woman so hard up she had to pay a fucking gigolo to be her date."

More heads turned. Beth put her hands up in front of her.

"Spencer," she pleaded.

Spencer's grin only grew at her distress.

"Careful," Alex warned him.

"Or what?" Spencer said. His voice was less confident now that he'd shifted his eyes back to Alex.

"Do you really want to find out the answer to that?" Alex asked. His voice held a sharp and lethal edge.

Spencer's mouth fell open, and he stood gasping for air like a gutted fish. Alex leaned in so he towered over Spencer.

"Al—Charlie," Beth begged. She pulled on his arm a little harder, but it was futile.

"Because I would love to show you," he said.

There was a world of warning in those words, and, to give him credit, Spencer managed to hear it through the haze of his alcohol-soaked mind. He turned and walked away without another word.

Alex turned back toward Beth, a satisfied smile on his face. "You didn't really think I was going to hit him, did you?"

Beth blinked. "A girl can dream."

"You were right about one thing."

"Yeah?"

"I should have stolen his car when I had the chance."

"Like you'd be seen in that thing," she said.

He shrugged. "I could have crashed it."

Beth's laughter was cut short when she spied her mother coming toward them, looking annoyed. More than usual.

"Where have you been all day?" her mother demanded.

"Hi, Mom."

"Isobel has been looking for you."

"Has she?" Alex asked with a little too much interest.

"It's nothing. I was just supposed to tell her how things went at the florist's," Beth said. Alex didn't look convinced.

"Your father and I have been looking for you too, but you weren't answering your phone."

Beth suddenly wished that she had accepted the offer of a drink. "I turned it off," she said.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"Charlie and I went to lunch. Then we walked around the city. I didn't want to be disturbed."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "The not-wanting-to-be-disturbed part, I believe."

Great. Everybody thought that she'd spent the whole afternoon jumping pretend Charlie's bones. At least her mother didn't think she had to pay for it. Or did she?

Her mother was giving Alex a long, disapproving stare. Had Spencer gotten to her too?

"What did you do today, Mom?"

"Your father played golf with Mr. Masterson and Mr. Munoz. And I had a lovely lunch with Spencer."

Bull's-eye.

"Ah," Beth said slowly. Suddenly, she understood all the strange looks being directed at her. Spencer had done what he always did best—spread bullshit. Everyone in the room thought that she was such a loser that she had paid a man to pose as her imaginary boyfriend and then spent the day screwing his brains out.

"He had some very interesting things to say," her mother said.

"I'm sure he did," Beth said. But she wasn't going to stick around to hear them. She started to walk away, pulling Alex with her. Beth had the distinct impression that he was trying not to laugh.

"Where are you going?" her mother called after her.

She held up her hands in surrender as she went. "To the bar, Mom."

Screw keeping control of herself. If she was destined to take two shots to the back of her head at the end of the night, she wasn't going to waste her last moments on earth feeling utterly miserable.

Beth snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and found an empty spot at the far end of the lounge.

"Tell me again why I was worried about saving any of these people?"

Alex grinned. "They all think I'm a prostitute, don't they?"

"Yep," she said. For some reason, Alex finding humor in the situation only darkened her mood further. It wasn't funny—it was disastrous. Spencer had gotten exactly what he wanted: she was a joke.

Given what had happened to her today, it shouldn't have mattered. But for some reason, it cut deep. She imagined what the epitaph on her gravestone would read.

_Beth Bradley._

_Liar. Sinner. John._

"It's not funny," she said.

His smile widened. His shoulders began to shake. "It's pretty damn funny."

"For you, maybe," she said, taking a sip of champagne. It would have made a bolder statement if she just slammed the thing down, but it tasted too damn expensive to waste on soothing her anger. "I have to stick around after this is over. I'll be the one to clean up this mess."

"Or not," he said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug.

"Tell me," she said.

"What would happen if for just a minute you stopped caring what all these people thought about you? What if you let them come up with their own misguided opinions, then laughed them off and let it go? What would happen?"

Beth opened her mouth but nothing came out. For a moment she wasn't sure what she was feeling. Alex was laughing, but he wasn't laughing at her. And maybe it _was_ a little bit funny to think of how upset some people were over something that simply wasn't true.

Beth looked at the people watching her from across the room. Some were curious. Some looked upset. Some, amused. And some, a great deal more than she would have imagined, looked like they couldn't care less.

"Maybe you're right," she said with a grin. "Maybe I'll leave this world behind and move out to DC with you. I could become your pimp."

"I believe they're called madams," he said.

"We'll have to look it up."

She'd always cared so much about what people thought of her. She spent so much time trying to please everyone that she ended up pleasing no one, herself included.

But not everyone disliked her. Alex seemed to genuinely appreciate her. And there was Isobel, of course.

Isobel. The first person to assume Alex was a man whore.

But her best friend would never...

"There you are." Beth turned around at the sound of Isobel's voice. "I've been looking all over for you two."

Isobel had a drink in her hand and a smile on her face. It was obvious that she wasn't feeling much pain.

"We've been over here. Hanging out against the wall. Enduring the stares of strangers," Beth said.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"You didn't happen to tell Spencer your little theory about Charlie's real occupation, did you?"

Isobel's hand flew to her mouth. She shook her head. "No," she said.

"Why don't I believe you?"

Isobel flashed her a guilty smile. "I may have let it slip to Jordan, who may have mentioned it as a joke to his brother."

"Isobel!"

Isobel waved her hand. "Nobody listens to Spencer."

Beth arched her eyebrows.

"Okay, everybody listened to him," she amended. "But if it makes you feel any better only about half of them believe it."

"Yeah, that makes it all better," Beth said.

Isobel turned to Alex. "So is it true?"

Alex only shrugged.

"Oh my God, I knew it," Isobel said.

"No," Beth said. "Seriously, Isobel. He's not a gigolo."

"Really? That's disappointing." Isobel turned her attention back to Alex. "So who are you, then? I'm the only other person who knows for certain that you aren't Charlie Parker."

That muscle on the side of Alex's jaw twitched again, and Beth groaned inwardly.

"Isobel," she said in warning. Her friend didn't know that she was doing far more harm than she realized. "He's just a friend."

"No, he's not," she said. "There is no way that you have a guy as gorgeous as this hanging around you, and I don't know about it."

"You're not helping," Beth said. If she had to guess, she'd say that Isobel was about three glasses of champagne into the evening. Nothing short of being blunt was going to get through.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," Isobel said. Beth nodded. It was sweet...in a way. A way that Alex was taking all wrong.

"She's not going to get hurt," Alex's words were imbued with all kinds of meaning that sailed right over Isobel's head.

"Yeah, well, you make sure of it. Or I'll be coming after you," Isobel said. She poked her pointer finger into his chest for emphasis before turning to Beth, her eyes comically wide. "Damn, he's solid," she said in a whisper that was loud enough to be heard three towns over.

"That he is." Beth gave a pained smile. "Hey, where's Jordan? I haven't seen him all night."

Isobel's eyes lit up. "Jordan! I should go find him."

"You should." Beth watched as Isobel disappeared into the crowd.

She looked at Alex. His expression was unreadable. "She's got nothing to do with this," she said.

Alex didn't say a word. He didn't have to. At that moment his eyes flashed with the same hardness that she had seen in the alley. Beth looked toward the door of the lounge just in time to see Salvatore Munoz walk through.

He didn't look happy.

# Chapter 8

Alex's arm tensed around her. Beth wasn't sure if it was meant to be reassuring or if he was just trying to keep her upright. Either way, it worked. She didn't crumble to the floor. She didn't bolt for the nearest exit sign. Her pants even stayed dry.

"Everything is all right," Alex whispered in her ear.

Like hell it was. In fact, this was the furthest from _all right_ that she could imagine. She was in a room with a man who wanted to kill her. Not metaphorically. Not socially. But actually, physically, no-pulse, corpse-on-a-slab dead.

But all that she could manage to say to Alex was, "Really?"

"Everything is _going_ to be all right," he amended. "There are three other agents besides me in this room right now. Two in the lobby and two at the back exit. No one is going to let anything happen to you. Do you understand?"

Beth nodded slowly. She wondered if he was lying, but why would he? So far as she knew, everything he'd told her had been the truth.

But it didn't matter whether he told the truth. What mattered was the effect of his words. Her heartbeat slowed to the rate of a hummingbird's, and some of the feeling came back to her toes.

She wished that they'd never left the room. That this was all some big joke. That it really was as simple as him being a gigolo.

"So sip your champagne, and smile some more. Our only hope now is to keep him guessing."

Beth tried to smile. She really did. But it seemed like her whole body was shaking. Salvatore had found her and was openly staring at her. He wanted her dead, plain and simple.

She tried to take another sip of her champagne, but her hand shook so hard that little droplets flew, misting the front of her dress.

She wasn't doing a very good job of playing it cool. She was no good under pressure. She was going to blow this whole thing. They would find her body floating in the bay tomorrow morning.

Oh, God.

Alex wrapped his fingers around her wrist. They felt warm and strong. "Just look at me."

He propped a shoulder against the wall, and she mirrored his pose.

"Don't worry about out there," he said. His voice was low and gravelly again. She wanted to lean in and let the sound wrap around her. "Just be here with me."

Some of the shaking left her body.

He took the glass from her hand and put it on the table behind him. Then he lifted his fingers to her face, stroking down the curve of her cheek, and for a brief moment, her shaking turned to shivers, the kind that made her want to burrow deep inside his arms.

"He's not coming over here, Beth. He's staying on the other side of the room, just looking at us," he whispered, his sexy tone rumbling through her like a physical force, but the words weren't ones that she was hoping to hear.

Well...they were. There was no way in hell that she wanted Salvatore Munoz coming toward her. Still, the topic was far from sexy.

"Now smile at me, Beth. Just a little. Like I just told you that I wish I could get you away from all of these people."

The heat of a blush began to burn her cheeks. She looked down at the floor to try to hide the smile that pulled at her lips.

"That's good," he said. "Now say something back to me. It doesn't matter what. Just act like you're a little nervous about it."

She looked up from the floor and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know what to say."

"That will work just fine." He inched closer, and Beth felt her blood start to heat. His lips were just inches away. His eyes locked with hers. He wrapped his arm around the curve of her waist and drew her closer.

For a second, all other thoughts were blocked out. Who the hell cared if people thought she was a slut, or if foreign agents were trying to murder her? Alex Tanner, the hottest guy she'd ever laid eyes on, was looking at her like she was on the dessert menu.

"Now, look at me like I just told you that I want to get you alone. And that once I've gotten you there, I'm going to kiss you, and I'm not going to stop until I've tasted every part of you."

Her breath hitched. She nervously licked her lips.

"That I'm going to take my time stripping off your clothes, so that I can savor every inch of your skin."

She tilted her head closer. His breath washed over her cheek, warm and soft.

"That I'm going to spend the whole night doing things to your body that you never even knew were possible."

She closed the gap between them, crushing her lips against his. He tightened his hold around her waist, his tongue teasing her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open. She drank him in. The hypnotic swirl of his tongue against hers was too much. Her blood began to heat. Want took over. Damn, she was nearly drunk on it.

Alex broke the kiss suddenly, and glanced across the room. He grasped her wrist and started pulling her toward a door marked _exit_. Heaven help her, Beth didn't care anymore what people whispered tomorrow as long as she got to taste even a sliver of what Alex was promising.

He opened the side exit door and slid them through. The door led into a service hallway. A man in a suit talked on a cell phone just outside.

Alex's demeanor changed instantly. All of the languid passion that had drawn her in was gone in a heartbeat. He was all business.

"Munoz has arrived," he said to the stranger.

The other man nodded.

Embarrassment flooded her. Of course. It was an act.

Alex's business was keeping her safe, and he'd gotten her away from Salvatore without anyone knowing the real reason why they'd fled. She should be grateful. He'd coaxed her into putting on one hell of a convincing show. Every person in that room believed that she was running off to a night of hedonistic debauchery, not fleeing for her life. The wedding guests had bought it. Salvatore Munoz had bought it. Hell, even _she_ had bought it.

Alex didn't look back as he pulled her down the hall, walking so fast that Beth struggled to keep up in her heels. She didn't trust herself to talk. She was still recovering from that blistering kiss.

All she could think about on their way back to the room was that if that was the way the man kissed when he was acting, what was it like to be the focus of his passion for real?

Alex didn't say a word as he closed the hotel room door. He threw the bolt lock, tossed down the room key, and slipped off his jacket and gun holster. He walked across to the window and looked outside, his expression distant.

Beth stood awkwardly in the center of the room, mustering the courage to speak. "Thank you," she finally said.

He turned around, his brow furrowed in worry and confusion. "For what?"

"For getting me out of there safely. You calmed me down."

"Is that what I did?" He pulled off his tie as he walked toward the bedroom.

Beth followed. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he froze in the archway between the rooms. She could feel the pent-up energy underneath the thin material of his shirt.

"Okay, maybe that's not _exactly_ how I felt. I'm sorry. I was nearly in a full panic back there, and you did what you had to do to snap me out of it. So, thank you."

She slid her hand down his arm as he turned around to face her, not wanting to break contact. His eyes glistened with a hot emotion she didn't dare name.

Still, she had to try and fix whatever rift had suddenly formed between them. She put her other hand out to him. "Friends?"

He looked down at it for a long second. She was just about to give up and pull it back when he grasped it.

It happened faster than she could react. One second she was standing in the archway, the next her back was up against the wall, her arm pinned above her head. Alex's body pressed against her, holding her immobile.

"This is what I am, Beth. This is what I can do," he said. "You don't thank me, and you sure as hell don't apologize to me."

He knew the way to make a point. He held her so that she couldn't get away, but she wasn't afraid. Not even close. He didn't want to hurt her.

Suddenly, she understood the look in his eyes. It was longing. It was want. It was the same desire that was burning a path through her body.

She wrapped her free hand around his neck. Then she pulled his lips to hers.

His mouth crushed hers. His tongue swept inside, drinking her in, filling her up with desire. She kissed him back, hoping that she could return even a fraction of the pleasure he was giving her. Her mind cleared of thought as sensation took over.

She squirmed against him, desperate to feel the sensation of his body moving over hers.

He moaned, a deep guttural sound that set off a physical reaction in her. Dear God, she'd do anything to hear that sound again. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

"Beth." He said her name with such longing. Warmth rushed between her legs. "I'm trying to tell you, I'm not a good guy. I'm not Charlie."

A bubble of laughter escaped Beth's throat. She couldn't help it. She'd nearly been killed. She'd become a social pariah. Her emotions were far past the boiling point. She needed release.

She needed _him_.

"I don't want Charlie. I made him up for everyone else's benefit. He was never mine." It was hard to get out the words with him staring at her lips. She didn't want to talk any more. She didn't want to think. She just wanted him.

Maybe it would be better if she just told him that.

"I want you," she said.

She pressed closer for emphasis. His delicious groan was her reward. She saw the moment that his resolve broke. A sense of victory swept through her. She was willing to bet that there weren't many people in this world who could claim to have done that to Alex Tanner.

She didn't have long to gloat. His mouth was back on her in an instant. He pulled her away from the wall, just far enough that his hand could find the zipper of her dress. His mouth moved to her neck as he slid the soft silk over her shoulders. His hands swept up the exposed skin of her back. Her fingers curled deeper into his shoulders. He flicked at the clasp of her bra.

She wasn't about to let him have all the fun. Beth went to work on the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers brushed against the hard ridges of muscle as she pushed back the white material. He felt as smooth and solid as he looked.

She went for the waist of his pants just as his mouth closed around her earlobe. Suddenly, her fingers weren't quite so deft. She fumbled with his buttons for a moment before the fly popped open.

Oh dear God, he even had abs down there. Was that even possible? She felt her mouth go dry. Ancient Greek statues didn't have bodies this perfect.

He hissed in a breath as she traced her fingers down below the waistband of his pants. He stiffened. All of him stiffened. She moved her finger slowly, exploring the plane of his lower belly, the ridge of his hips, but always keeping her fingers inches away from the part of him now straining the material of his pants.

It gave her a thrilling sense of satisfaction to know that she could affect him that way. He eased her dress over the swell of her hips and let it fall to the floor. Her panties followed a second later. He stopped kissing her long enough to pull back and look at her.

Beth couldn't help the sinking feeling deep within her belly. She wasn't someone with particularly low self-esteem. At least she never thought of herself that way. Of course, when she did her thinking on the subject, she was usually fully dressed and in the company of people that she had no intention of getting sloppy with. Sometimes she was even wearing a turtleneck. Standing before a modern-day Adonis, she found she couldn't muster the same certainty.

The fire in his eyes darkened as he looked at her. It grew...hungrier.

"Oh, God, Beth," he said. He started kissing her again. His mouth moved over her neck, her shoulders, down to the curve of her breast. He drew a nipple into his mouth. Beth's eyes closed as delicious sensation swept through her.

A second later she was being lifted up.

He carried her over to the bed and sat her down.

She pushed down his pants over the hard ridge of his hips. He kicked them down the rest of the way. He was perfect.

She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, his erection heavy in her hand. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. It was a heady feeling being able to affect him like this—the same way he affected her.

He dragged his hands up her body, peppering kisses across her skin. Then he leaned her back over the bed. She clutched at his shoulders and took him with her. Her heart thundered in her chest, blood pounded through her veins.

He positioned himself between her legs.

For half a second, Beth worried about how this was going to work. She hadn't been with anyone for a while, and he was bigger than most—hell, he was bigger than anybody she had ever been with. How would he fit?

He slid his fingers down until they found her clit. Instantly, those thoughts—all thoughts—fled her mind. Her head fell back against the pillows, and her back arched as he caressed the most sensitive part of her. She shouldn't have worried. She was plenty wet to take him. Just the thought of him was enough to make her ready.

Alex's breath against her ear became ragged. His cock nudged against her. He waited a second. Two seconds. Just long enough for Beth to fear that he had changed his mind.

With a long exhale, he pressed forward, slowly sinking inside her body. She grabbed on to him, desperate to keep her hold on him as he slowly pulled out. With each stroke he filled her deeper, until their bodies met.

Her body swam with pleasure. She couldn't be closer to him if she tried.

He pivoted and sat up, pulling her with him, until she was nestled on his lap. She wrapped her legs around his back and ground against him. Each stroke drove her closer to the edge.

He wrapped his arms around her back, cradling her, holding her steady. His mouth bathed her neck in kisses. She found a rhythm and stayed there. One step away from wild, she took her pleasure from him. Her heart pounded so hard she thought she could hear it. It was a reminder that she had survived. That she was alive. And for the first time since she could remember, she was taking what she wanted. What she really wanted.

He felt it too. She saw it in his eyes. Tasted it in the swipe of his tongue against hers. This was passion. This was life.

Tension built inside of her. A fire that refused to be tamed. And for the first time she could remember, Beth didn't care about anything else. She wanted to know what it was like to throw herself over the edge with abandon.

She didn't have to wait long. His body just felt too good. All the tension inside her broke. She shuddered around him. Her back arched as blinding pleasure swept through her.

He was close behind. He guided her down on her back, so he was above her. He took her hard and fast. His body tensed as he came. He buried his face in her neck and pressed his body against hers. She felt every second of his release, felt it run through every muscle in his body. Only then did he relax against her.

A long moment passed before Alex rolled onto his side. His face was still nestled against her neck. She felt his breath slow, until long exhales caressed her skin.

After another minute had ticked by, he pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder and draped her arm over him.

Beth traced her fingertips over his chest and belly. He caressed the back of her neck with his palm. She breathed in the scent of him, and burrowed deeper into his chest. Her legs wrapped around his.

She tried to fight off the decadent feeling that threatened to carry her off to sleep. She didn't want to go there, not just yet. Even with all the danger that surrounded her, she felt safe in Alex's arms. She knew it was unfair to put such a burden on him, but just for a few minutes she decided to enjoy the sensation. After all, she wasn't sure when she'd get another chance.

# Chapter 9

Beth woke up to the sound of harsh ringing. She shot straight up in the bed. Or rather, she tried. She would have been successful if it weren't for the two big arms curled around her, holding her tight.

"It's just your phone," Alex said, his words rumbling through his chest against her ear. He pressed his lips to the top of her head before releasing her from his embrace.

Her phone was always interrupting her. Now it had roused her from the warm cocoon of Alex's arms. If she had half a brain, she'd turn the damned thing off or chuck it out the window. Instead, she snatched it from the bedside table.

At least it wasn't her mother this time.

"Hey, Isobel," Beth said, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Hey yourself. Where did you get off to last night in such a hurry?"

Beth sat up, willing her sleepy mind to catch up with her body. "Um..." Alex's hand slid up her back, tempting her to lie back down.

"That's what I thought," Isobel said with a laugh. No doubt it was what everyone thought. "Some people wanted to wait to see if you'd be coming down, but I said you could probably use the sleep."

Beth blinked and looked at the clock on the side table. "Did I miss breakfast?"

"Well, yeah. But that was an hour ago. We were all just about to take off for the museum."

"Oh, God, the MOMA," Beth said. "I forgot all about it. I'm so sorry, Isobel."

"Don't be. I don't care if you skip it. I mean, I'll miss you, but Spencer will be there and from the sound of it, things didn't go so well between you two last night." There was a note of apology in her voice.

"Are you sure you're cool with me not going with you?"

"It's fine. I swear. God knows I'd still be lounging around in bed if I could. All you have to do is make it to the rehearsal tonight."

"Of course, I promise."

More laughter. "Until then, stay in bed all day. Doctor's orders."

"Are my parents there?"

"Of course," Isobel said. "But don't worry. I already covered for you."

Alex's fingers curled around her shoulder. He slowly pulled her back down to the pillows. Beth only half resisted.

"How in the world did you do that?" Beth asked.

"I told them that I sent you out on another errand for me," she said. "This one was out on the peninsula."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Alex's lips pressed against her neck, tracing a path up to her ear. Her toes began to curl. She gripped the phone tighter so it wouldn't slip through her fingers and clatter down to the floor.

"Um...Isobel, I have to go," she said.

Another laugh. There wasn't any attempt to mask it this time.

"Of course you do. Have fun, but don't forget—six o'clock tonight."

"Six o'clock. I'll be there. Promise."

Beth hit the end button and tossed the phone to the other side of the king-sized bed. She curled her body up against Alex and pressed her lips to the base of his throat. Just for good measure, she flicked her tongue out to taste the little hollow at the base. He made a little sound of appreciation.

"What did Isobel want?" he asked.

"To tell me that I'd missed breakfast. And to remind me that the rehearsal is tonight." Beth pulled her face up far enough to nuzzle her nose against his cheek. She bobbed down to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"That's it?" His voice was wary.

"Pretty much."

"You were talking with her for longer than that."

Beth pulled back far enough away to see his expression. It didn't give anything away. "You still think Isobel has something to do with this, don't you?"

"I can't rule anyone out. I won't allow you to get hurt because you're blinded by your affections."

Beth rolled to the other side of the bed and stood. He didn't make any move to stop her.

"Blinded by my affections?" she said. "The only person that I seem to be blinded by is you. I've known Isobel since I was six years old. She would never do anything to hurt me."

Alex sat up. The sheet fell to his lap, leaving his chest exposed. Beth didn't want to gape at him. Really, she didn't. She was working on building up a good head of righteous rage, and the sight of his well-defined torso was dousing the flames.

But she was only human, and his hair was all ruffled from...well, she remembered all too well what had caused that ruffling. His eyes were turning dark again, narrowing with fever-inducing intensity.

It might have had something to do with her standing buck naked in the center of the room. Her cheeks started to burn again. She reached down and snatched his discarded button-down shirt from the floor. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and wrapped the front around her as quickly as she could.

His expression didn't soften. Not one little bit.

"I don't think that is having the effect you were hoping for." He patted the mattress next to him. "Why don't you come back over here?"

Beth shook her head, resisting the answering smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth. "I don't think so."

He arched his brows. "I could make it worth your while."

"No way."

"Oh, I can think of lots of ways."

Her blush burned. "Not while you still think that Isobel is trying to kill me."

"I never said I thought that," he said. "I sure as hell hope that it's not true. I just said that your safety is my main concern. Until this is over I will suspect everyone."

Beth scrunched her nose. When he put it like that, it sounded so reasonable. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Okay, there. Happy now?"

He crooked his finger at her. "A little closer."

She shook her head. "Nope." A girl had to have some backbone, after all. No matter how misguided it was.

"All right then," he said. "If that's how you want to play."

He was on her in less than a second. Before she could react, she was on her back, her hands locked above her head, his hips positioned between her legs.

"Much better," he said. His mouth was so close to hers, so close that his breath washed across her lips, kissing her before he did.

The phone rang.

That was it. She was going to make it her life mission to smash every phone she saw. She would be doing the world a favor.

Except it was his phone this time. With great reluctance, he pulled away. "Sorry, duty calls."

She groaned out loud as he sprung from the bed. He grabbed the phone and went into the sitting room. Beth crawled reluctantly from the bed. She could barely hear him in the other room. His answers were terse. One word, maybe two. He was on the call for less than a minute before he hung up.

"Munoz is on the move," he said, heading for the bathroom. He flicked on the lights and a moment later, Beth heard the shower start up. A half second later, he came back out. "The guys in the van just intercepted a text message from a burner phone."

Beth felt a lump forming in her throat. Her stomach dropped. She didn't want to ask. She didn't need to. The serious look on his face told her that whatever the message was, it wasn't any good.

"What did it say?"

"That if Munoz couldn't handle the situation, he would take care of it himself."

Beth blinked. She sank back down on the edge of the bed, her knees threatening to give out underneath her.

"I'm _the situation_ , aren't I?"

Alex stopped mid-stride. "Yes," he said. It was a simple answer to a simple question. But Beth felt like she had taken a swift blow to the gut.

"Does that mean he's coming back to the hotel to shoot me himself?"

"I doubt it."

"But we're still going to go downstairs and wait for something to happen?" Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears.

"Yes."

He didn't rush to comfort her this time. But he didn't lie to her either. He treated her like an adult. One who could handle the burden she'd taken on.

And she could, she reminded herself. She might not like it. Hell, the fact that she didn't was probably a good indicator of her sanity. But she could handle it. She _would_ handle it. The only other choice was giving up, and she sure as hell wasn't going to do that.

"We have to," he said. "You're an easy target up here."

Beth nodded. She understood. Everyone knew where she was. Hell, even Isobel had told her to stay in bed all day.

Had she known?

Beth immediately felt a traitorous shame at the fleeting thought. There was no way that her best friend was setting her up for an assassin to find.

No way in hell.

Still, Beth didn't waste any time showering and dressing before making her way down to the lobby.

The day was a bizarre combination of constant anxiety and crushing boredom.

Beth had been out of the room for six hours and she hadn't left the hotel once, not even for a walk around the parking lot. It was too open, Alex said. There were too many variables. Too many ways that things could go wrong. She guessed that what he really meant was there were too many hiding places for a sniper to hide and take her out with a single shot.

She might never get over how strange it was to think about her life in those terms. She only hoped that she lived long enough to get used to it.

Alex was true to his word and stayed by her side. He sat with her in the lobby. Stood next to her in the coffee shop line. Then back to the lobby. Walked with her down to the spa store. Ate lunch with her at the restaurant. Then back to the lobby. Walked down the hallway with her. Then back to the lobby again.

The problem wasn't with the monotony of the day. It might have actually been relaxing to have a whole day with nothing planned, nowhere to go, nothing to do. It was that she couldn't relax, not even for a second.

People came and went. Beth watched them all. Some she knew. Most she didn't. Every now and again someone from the wedding would stop by and say hello, and Beth would worry about their motives for doing so. But even that was a welcome distraction from obsessing over the intentions of strangers who just happened to glance her way.

It was exhausting, this ever-vigilant existence. Beth wondered how in the world Alex managed it. He hadn't complained once since they'd stepped out of their room. He'd taken up his position by her side today and settled in. He'd chatted with her, keeping it light. He lounged on the couches as though there wasn't a worry on his mind.

Beth, on the other hand, was ready to start pulling her hair out. The only thing preserving her sanity was keeping one eye on the clock. She'd made it to five thirty. It was almost time for the rehearsal. And while she was certain that none of the anxiety she felt would fade when she got there, at least the boredom would.

Alex patted her on the knee and gestured toward the front door. John was walking in. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to acknowledge him, so she kept her face as impassive as possible. She figured they were through pretending when he sat down beside them.

"Hey," Alex said.

"Nothing yet?" John asked.

Alex shook his head. "Anything on your side?"

"Negative."

"Riveting stuff, guys," Beth said. "Hey, since I've got two bodyguards now, do you think I could risk a quick trip out to the balcony? My legs are cramped, and I haven't seen real sunlight all day."

The men looked at each other. She saw the discussion going on between them in their eyes.

"John can watch over you for a minute," Alex said, standing up. "I'm going to the men's room. Then we'll get you ready for that rehearsal."

Alex didn't look too happy. She knew that the day had been a bust for him. Nothing had happened, and time was slipping away.

She stood up and walked to the set of double doors that led out to the balcony. John stayed by her side until they were outside. Then he fell back, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His expression was, as always, impassive, but at least he was giving her some space. Well, as much space as one could get on a fifteen-foot balcony.

The Kensington was built into the side of a hill, and this part of the lobby was technically on the second floor. It was a lovely place to sneak out to watch the sun sinking below the San Francisco Bay. Tonight was no exception, and Beth caught it at just the right time.

She sighed with pleasure as she leaned against the railing. After a day of being shut up inside the hotel this was heaven.

Ribbons of brilliant orange and flaming red streaked the sky. The darkening waves of the bay caught the last of the evening light and shimmered as if they were capped with diamonds. A slight breeze caressed her cheek, bringing with it the scents of the blooming gardens below.

If only she'd had a glass of champagne in her hand and Alex by her side, it would have been a perfect moment. As it was, she had a can of flat diet soda and a hulking stranger behind her, one that she still wasn't quite sure she trusted.

Beth turned around at the sound of the doors opening behind her. She expected to see Alex. Instead, it was Spencer. The group must have just returned from the museum.

"I thought I saw you out here," he said.

John looked at her, raising his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. _Do I need to take care of this guy?_

For a split second, she indulged in the fantasy of taking him up on the offer. Maybe if she put her hands up and screamed, John would slap his cuffs on Spencer and drag him away. Even better, he might just pick him up and chuck him over the side.

Beth gave John a slight shake of her head. Spencer was a royal pain in the ass, but he wasn't dangerous.

"What do you want, Spencer?"

"That's not a very nice welcome."

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling very welcoming toward you at the moment."

Spencer took up the empty spot next to her on the railing. "Are you still mad at me for calling out your little date for what he was?"

Beth considered telling Spencer just how big of an ass he was, but she realized there just wasn't enough time left in the day to cover everything. Besides, anything she said would just turn into another fight, and she didn't want that vibe carrying over into Isobel's rehearsal.

"Where is he, anyways?" he asked. "Did I scare him off or did you come to your senses?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "Was there something that you wanted, Spencer?"

"I wanted to see if you were all right," he said. "I know I got a little out of line last night, and I was worried that I might have upset you."

Beth looked at him from the corner of her eye. That didn't sound like Spencer. He'd never worried about anyone other than himself. He sure as hell didn't apologize.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Good." He nodded, and leaned a little closer. "I just wanted you to know that even though you've made a fool of yourself this weekend, I forgive you."

Beth's jaw dropped. " _You_ forgive _me_?" she demanded when she had recovered from her stunned silence.

"Sure I do. I saw you out here, looking so sad, and I thought you should know that I'm not holding any of this against you."

"How magnanimous of you."

He smiled and shrugged. "I know things ended badly between us, and you probably just wanted to show me up. It's natural."

Beth downed the rest of her soda in an attempt to keep her mouth shut. Her fingers bit into the thin aluminum, crushing the can as she drank.

"And the fault isn't entirely yours. It's obvious that our break up devastated you. Maybe I was too hasty. I mean, you are a decent-looking woman, Beth."

Beth felt bile rise up and burn her throat. "Are you asking me to get back together with you?"

"I'm asking you to come to my room tonight after the rehearsal dinner, and we can discuss it." He arched his brows suggestively.

Beth heard a quiet laugh from John's direction. So the guy did have a sense of humor after all.

"Thanks for the offer, Spencer, but I'm going to pass," she said.

He looked confused. "Why?"

The door behind them opened. Both she and Spencer turned at the same time. This time it was Alex. His eyes were unreadable as he stared down Spencer.

"Because I already have plans for this evening," she said before walking to Alex's side. He wrapped his arm around her waist and turned them back toward the lobby without a word.

The door shut behind them, but not before Beth heard John say, "Tough break, bro."

# Chapter 10

The formal Rose Garden at the Kensington Hotel was magnificent. Cut into the side of a terraced hill, it offered a panoramic view of the San Francisco Bay. It was easy to see why it was so popular for weddings.

Of course, that didn't explain the crowd that surrounded it now. Beth was sure that maybe a couple of the people milling around the edges of the garden were legitimate tourists and wedding gawkers, but they were badly outnumbered by undercover agents.

Over the last half hour, she'd made a game out of guessing which was which. Some were easy, like the single men who had been there since the beginning. She didn't know many men that would placidly sit in a flower garden for the better part of an hour when their girlfriends were making them, let alone by themselves. Right now there were two of them.

There were a few couples, but it was easy to tell which were fakes. No snuggling. No kissing. Nothing in their physical demeanor that indicated a genuine connection.

A few people had come and gone, taking a quick gawk at the view, or the wedding party, maybe inspecting a bloom or two. Those had been the only ones that had provided any kind of challenge.

Maybe she should have been more vigilant, keeping an eye out for the people who wanted her dead instead of playing games with the good guys, but she couldn't quite manage to keep her guard up after the long day.

Besides, Alex seemed vigilant enough for both of them. He'd insisted on staying close during the rehearsal, so he was seated in the front row of folding chairs. If anyone cared, they were tactful enough to keep their mouths shut.

The priest was going through the motions, telling the wedding party where to stand, what to say, where to go. Beth's job was easy. All she had to do was stand at the front of the line of bridesmaids, pretend to hold a bouquet of flowers, and ignore Spencer glaring at her.

After another ten minutes, it was over. Just in time. Beth's stomach was starting to grumble. The party broke up, agreeing to meet back at the restaurant in fifteen minutes for the rehearsal dinner.

Beth kissed Isobel on the cheek and went to Alex's side, earning the stink eye from her mother.

"Beth," her mother snapped.

"I'll just be a second," she said, rolling her eyes. She shouldn't have bothered. Alex followed her over. Her mother gave them both a disgusted look.

"I don't know why you insist on continuing with this disgusting charade, Beth. You have to know that all you're doing is embarrassing yourself," she said, apparently not caring that Alex was right there.

"And I don't know why you insist on believing the worst about me, Mother," Beth shot back. It was easier to be brave with Alex next to her. She wasn't sure what she was going to do after he was gone. She didn't want to think about it. Not yet.

"Because it's usually true," her mother said.

Beth thought that after a lifetime of verbal slaps to the face from her mother that she would be used to the sting. She wasn't.

"I'll see you at dinner, Mom," Beth said, turning away.

Alex kept pace with her as she marched away. He didn't say a word. After a few steps, he reached down and took her hand. Just like a real boyfriend.

If only.

Sure, Alex had been by her side more in the last two days than anyone else in her life. He probably cared about her more than anyone else too. But, deep down inside, she knew it was because it was his job. His guilt over involving her in an international incident had kept him around.

But relationships had been built on stranger things. Hadn't they?

Okay, maybe not. Especially not when she threw in the blackmail, the impersonation, and the death threats. Hell, the CIA was probably going to award him a medal just for surviving the weekend with her.

"Are you all right?" he asked as they rounded the corner of the hotel.

"Everything is fine," she said. Her lips were pressed together so tight that she had to force the words out.

Beth kept her mouth shut as she walked into the hotel and toward the stairs. Four flights of stairs should help get some of her pent-up aggression out.

"My mother has never been happy with me. Not once in my whole life." She pulled away from Alex and rounded the first turn in the stairwell. "Everything I ever did was seen through the lens of what my sister, Chelsea, did before me. She got A's, I got B's. She got into Stanford. I got into State. She became a lawyer. I got a job in retail. She got married and had two children just as perfect as her. I...well...you know how I ended up. As far as my mother is concerned, the day I was born I was already in second place. Every day since, I've just become more of a disappointment."

By the time she was done ranting she had reached the top of the stairs. She was out of breath and felt a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. At least some of her anger had dissipated.

She turned around. Alex was just behind her, looking as calm and put together as ever. Only the small smile that played at the corner of his lips gave her any clue about what he was thinking.

"You still think I'm crazy," she said, and started for the door of their room.

"No, I don't."

"The first time we met you said your mother drove you crazy too," she said, flinging open the door. "What does she do?"

He was quiet behind her. Beth turned around. Alex's eyes were flat.

"She drank."

Beth stopped in the middle of pulling off her sweater.

Drank. Past tense. And Beth had the feeling it wasn't because she'd checked into rehab.

"Oh," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said, like it was the final word on the subject. "It was a long time ago."

"Like that matters." She resisted the urge to rush to his side. She had the feeling that if she got too close he would freeze up. She turned and went toward the wardrobe instead. "She was your mom. Mine drives me bat-shit crazy, but if anything were to happen to her it would devastate me."

"She feels the same way about you," he said.

Beth felt a little bubble of warmth burst in her chest. Yeah, she guessed deep down she knew that. But Beth wasn't about to let him change the subject.

"What happened to your mom?"

"I was seventeen. She and I got into a fight one night after she'd been drinking. She grabbed the keys and before any of us could stop her she'd driven off and wrapped the car around a tree."

Beth froze as she was pulling down her dress. She couldn't help it. He hadn't used many words. He didn't need to. She could see the scene crystal clear in her mind. He'd been a kid. His world had been turned upside down.

"You joined the Navy right after that," she said. It wasn't a question.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Doesn't sound like your home had a lot of structure or discipline. You're obviously a guy who values those things. So you found a place that had them. I may have only known you for a couple of days, but you're a pretty easy read."

"I know a couple of people who would disagree with you."

"Then they're idiots," she said.

He laughed darkly.

He was waiting for her by the door when she was dressed and ready, his face impassive. She put her hand up to his cheek.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said.

He gazed at her for a long time before nodding and opening the door. They took the elevator this time. He was silent all the way back down. Almost all of her anger had faded away.

Halfway down, Alex's text alert went off. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and looked at the screen for half a second before slipping it back into his pocket.

"We need to make a quick stop before dinner."

Beth nodded.

Alex walked through a set of unmarked doors near the restaurant entrance. Bright fluorescent lights gleamed off polished tiled floors. The corridor was clean but industrial, a glaring contrast to the elegance of the hotel.

She didn't ask where they were going. Off to hear more news, no doubt. It was strange how quickly she was getting used to this new life of hers. She was still afraid, but somehow she'd managed to push it into the background. She could function if she didn't think that all of this fuss was over her.

Beth looked up. She hadn't noticed that she'd fallen a few steps behind Alex. Apparently, he hadn't either.

She scurried forward, trying to make up the distance. But before she could reach him a door swung open and a metal cart slid between them.

Beth stopped short, but not quick enough. Her knee bumped into the side and all the covered dishes on top swayed and clattered.

The waiter pushing the cart looked at her and smiled. It was a friendly enough gesture so she smiled back. He didn't seem upset that she'd nearly knocked over a whole table's worth of food.

"Hey, you don't happen to be Beth Bradley, do you?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Good, cause—"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off. Alex appeared and wrapped his arm around the man's neck, forcing the waiter to bend back at an extreme angle. The man's arms shot up.

"Dude," he shouted. "What the hell?"

Beth's hands flew to her open mouth as the waiter teetered on his heels. Alex held him upright, but the poor guy had to bend his knees to keep himself steady. If Alex loosened his grip the guy would crumble to the floor.

"How do you know her name?" Alex demanded. His voice was like sharpened steel, cold and deadly.

"Th-there's a group in the restaurant waiting for her. I heard them asking where she was." Alex's arm tightened around the waiter's neck. His words just barely squeaked out.

Beth shot Alex a look. He didn't let go.

"That's the only way you know her?" Alex whispered into the waiter's ear.

"Yeah. I don't know her, I swear. Dude, let me go," the waiter said again. His face was turning red.

"Alex, let him go," Beth said. She didn't want the poor guy passing out—or worse—just because he'd made the mistake of talking to her.

Alex looked at her for a long moment before reluctantly letting the man slip from his grasp. The waiter clutched his throat. Beth expected some yelling, maybe even a little crying. But instead the guy started grinning like an idiot.

"That was awesome," he said, staring at Alex in admiration. "You came out of nowhere. What are you, some kind of ninja?"

Alex pushed the metal cart out of Beth's way and took her hand. "I'm nobody."

"Dude, you are amazing," the waiter called after them as they walked down the hall. "Totally sick."

Alex pushed open another set of doors at the end of the hall, and pulled her out onto a small concrete landing. A set of concrete steps led down to an empty loading dock. John Ryman was leaning against a wall at the far end. He uncrossed his arms and walked toward them. When he got close enough he nodded at Beth, then focused his attention on Alex.

"What do you have?" Alex asked. He sounded impatient.

"We have confirmation that another hit has been put out on Miss Bradley."

A knot instantly formed in Beth's throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it refused to budge.

"Munoz?" Alex asked.

John shook his head. "It was your guy this time. We intercepted another communication saying that his man was already en route to the hotel, and that Munoz was to stay out of it this time."

Alex's eyes hardened as he nodded. "Do we know who he contracted?"

"No."

"So we're flying blind."

"Nothing unusual there," John said. "Keep your eyes open and your head screwed on straight. You should be fine."

John cast Beth a sideways glance. He obviously didn't think much of her head screwing on skills. She couldn't blame him. It wasn't what she was known for.

"How are you holding up?" John asked. He sounded concerned, though Beth had the feeling he was more worried about her messing up his mission than with her welfare.

"I'm okay."

The truth was, she was scared as hell. But at least she wasn't panicking.

"Do you have anything else?" Alex asked.

"Not now," John said. "I'll be in touch if anything comes up." He turned and disappeared into the fading evening light.

Alex led her back inside. "You all right?"

She nodded. It was a lie, but what was she going to do? She had to be all right. There was no other option.

"Ready for dinner?" he asked.

Beth laughed a little. Her stomach was currently doing back flips. Her hands were shaking, and she was pretty sure that the burn she felt was stomach acid creeping up into her throat.

"You bet," she said, though she had no idea which wine paired nicely with bile.

# Chapter 11

Every meal that Beth had sat down to in the last two days had been painfully awkward, and the rehearsal dinner was no exception. She endured stares and whispers, moments of uncomfortable silence. A whole buffet of social awkwardness.

There were good moments too. Isobel had laughed with her. Spencer was seated at the other end of the table, and was, therefore, easy to ignore. And her mother had actually hugged her when she walked into the restaurant. It was as close to an apology as she was ever going to get.

Even with Alex next to her, Beth kept looking over her shoulder. He kept one hand on her the whole time. He was either holding her hand, cupping her knee, or had one draped over her shoulder. The message was clear.

_I am here._

She was grateful for the reminder. His presence was the only thing that was keeping her sane. And not just because of the ever-present assassination threat. He helped get her through the dinner with friends and family as well. No matter what, he kept smiling.

It was an odd disconnect. Though everyone at the table thought that he was a man of questionable repute, they all clearly liked him. It was almost impossible not to like Alex when he turned on the charm. Of course, she still had to remember to call him Charlie. She found herself slipping more than once.

A few people noticed and raised their eyebrows. Alex only winked. It was sweet. And sexy as hell.

She was falling for him. Hard.

It was a stupid thing to do. Not because of what he did—he was one of the good guys, after all—and not because she feared that she might mess up his concentration, but because she knew he would leave.

She figured she had about a fifty/fifty chance of making it through the weekend alive. She didn't want her dying thought to be that she didn't grab every moment of sweetness that life had to offer. On the other hand, if she did somehow manage to walk away from this whole thing, she knew that Alex would be walking in the other direction. She was just a job to him. A job with perks, sure, but a job all the same. If she gave too much of her heart away, she knew she'd be crushed.

Still, she'd suffered through broken hearts before. And with the help of a few sappy songs and more than a few quarts of Ben and Jerry's, she'd survived.

But those guys hadn't been Alex. She wasn't sure anybody survived Alex. Not in any sense.

At least her appetite had returned. Good thing too. The béarnaise sauce that was slathered over her chicken was phenomenal. Her mother tsked across the table at her as she soaked some up on a piece of bread. Beth just smiled back before popping it into her mouth.

Her mother's disapproving stare didn't last long. Isobel stood at the head of the table and lifted her glass.

"I want to thank everyone for coming today. Thanks to my parents and to my family who traveled here from all over the world. Thanks to all the Masterson family for welcoming me. And thank you to all my friends who have come to share in the celebration. But I'd like to give a special thanks to my lifelong friend, Beth Bradley. We've always been there for each other, ever since we were kids. We've had a lot of adventures, and more than our fair share of misadventures. I just want you to know I wouldn't give them up for anything, and I wish you all the happiness in the world."

Beth felt her eyes begin to burn. Big, fat tears slipped down her cheeks, but she smiled as she lifted her glass.

"Beth has been promising all week that she won't cry at the ceremony tomorrow. But I'm kind of hoping that she will. Big emotions are nothing to be ashamed of. Showing how you feel about the people in your life is nothing to hide. So go ahead and cry all you want, Beth. Just don't get any on my dress."

A chorus of cheers went up at the table.

Beth flashed a smile at her best friend. Just like that—just like the best friend that she was—Isobel helped Beth make up her mind.

Beth finished her dinner, but didn't wait for dessert. She said her goodbyes, hugged her mom and kissed her best friend. She resisted kicking the legs of Spencer's chair out from under him as she passed by. She probably didn't need to make _every_ emotion public.

Alex took a good long look at Beth as the elevator doors shut. She was beautiful—even with red-rimmed eyes. She wore her emotions openly, and her failure to hide them made her gorgeous. She was naturally honest, even when she was lying.

He knew why she didn't stick around for dessert. It had nothing to do with fitting into a dress tomorrow. And it wasn't because she was afraid. Earlier, he had felt her tremble when they first sat down, but now she was calm.

She kissed him as soon as the doors of the elevator shut. There was no pressing urgency spurred by fear, or relief at still being alive. Her lips moved slowly, deliberately over his. She lifted her hands to his face, and pulled him closer.

Her tenderness moved him. Just because the urgency was gone didn't mean the passion was. Desire grew within him as her tongue caressed his bottom lip.

If she wasn't careful, he was going to take her right here in the elevator. What the hell? It was probably the safest place in the hotel right now. The only place that he was absolutely sure there wasn't anyone waiting to hurt her.

He eyed the emergency stop button before disregarding the tempting idea. They would only have time for a quick tumble against the walls before the maintenance crew found them. That wasn't the kind of night he wanted, and, based on the slow promise of her kiss, it wasn't what she wanted either.

Beth kept right on kissing him even after the elevator doors opened. He pulled away just long enough to walk down the hall. One of John's agents was standing guard at the door of the stairwell. The man glanced his way, but didn't acknowledge them in any way.

But if he had made the agent, someone else would too. It was a hard balance. They needed the place well guarded, but it was difficult to pull off without being obvious.

Not that Alex cared. Beth's safety was the only thing that mattered. They would get this bastard some other way if they had to.

He hurried her into the room and resumed their kiss. He pulled at his tie. She unzipped her dress and began to unbutton his shirt.

Her feather-light kisses slowly stoked the fire building inside him. He slid his hands down from the curve of her waist, over her hips, to the flowing fabric of her dress. He walked his fingers up, lifting the material above the curve of her hips.

She shook her head, breaking the kiss as she did.

"Not here," she said.

Alex had to blink a few times to see through the haze of desire.

"Where then?" he asked, looking around the room.

She smiled. "That tub. You know how much I want to be in that tub."

A slow smile took over his face. Of course. It was perfect.

He went into the bathroom and started the water. Steam swirled around the room as a cascade of warm water filled the antique tub. He slid his shirt the rest of the way down his arms.

She stood in the doorway behind him, wearing only her bra and panties. Pink silk clung to her dramatic curves. Alex's mouth watered. She was the tastiest thing he'd ever seen, full and ripe and ready to be slowly savored.

He went back to her kisses, wrapping his arms around her, reveling in the softness of her skin. With deft fingers, he unhooked her bra. He had to stand back to let it drift down to the floor. Her breasts were perfect. Full and round and begging to be kissed. Even in the wet warmth of the bathroom her nipples were hard and tight. He bent his head down and drew one into his mouth, twirling the hard nub with his tongue. Her head fell back against the doorjamb, and he was treated to the gorgeous sound of her pleasure-drenched moans.

Dear God, he couldn't remember his cock ever being so hard in his life, and he didn't even have her pants off yet.

He needed to rectify that. Now.

He made his way down her belly, leaving a trail of kisses behind. He bent down on his knees before her, and hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties. With aching slowness he dragged them over her pale skin, exposing her pussy.

She was trembling. He glanced up to see if it was anticipation or anxiety over being naked that had her shaking. A mixture of both, he decided. It was all right. He knew a way to take her mind off her fears.

He wrapped his fingers around her left leg and draped it over his shoulder. She was beautiful. Every inch of her. Every part. He kissed her again, his tongue moving slowly between her lips.

She tasted every bit as sweet as he'd imagined. He turned slow circles around her clit until her little moans were breathy and more urgent. Her hands curled into his shoulders, pressing him forward. She didn't mind asking for more of what she wanted. And he was only too happy to comply.

Her legs started to shudder. He pressed his hands against her body to hold her upright. Her shaking became more intense, her moans more urgent, until he felt her break and loosen against him. Only then did he stop and rise to his feet.

He didn't waste any time stripping off the rest of his clothes, and discarded them in a pile on the bathroom tile. He settled into the tub first. She followed, sitting down on his lap. Her legs nestled against his side. She slowly descended, taking him all the way in one stroke.

Damn, she felt good. Soft and wet and everything that he'd ever wanted. Her legs were still shaky, and she moved slowly. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way. He was going to savor her. Every stroke. Every heartbeat. Every breath.

He wrapped his hands around her neck and kissed her. He didn't break the kiss. Not once. Not as the warm water surrounding their moving bodies sloshed over the side of the tub. Not as the pleasure of her body sliding against his grew until he felt as though he would lose himself entirely in her. And when he finally did break, he clutched her to him as if she were the source of everything he'd ever needed.

Beth wrapped the hotel robe around her body. She'd finally relented and climbed from the tub. She couldn't stay in there forever. She was half prune as it was. And while Alex had shown her in every imaginable way that he had absolutely no problem with her body, she wasn't sure yet that she wanted to push the limits of his tolerance by going full prune on the poor guy.

Water clung to her legs as she stepped out of the bathroom. Alex was already dressed...well, clothed...well, partially. He had on a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. It wasn't exactly evening wear, but dear Lord, he still looked sexy as hell.

He looked up at her from the message he was reading on his phone and smiled. "Hey, sweetheart," he said.

_Hey, sweetheart._

That was enough to make her a puddle on the floor. She was such a softie.

There was a knock on the door. Alex's head immediately snapped up.

"Room service," a voice from the other side said.

Alex pulled his gun from the holster on the floor, and tucked it into the back waistband of his boxers. Only then did he go to the door.

"We didn't order any room service," he said.

"It's from a John Ryman. He called from down in the lobby. Said it was a shame you didn't stay for dessert and champagne. Figured you might want this after an hour or so." Even through the door, Beth could hear the laughter in the man's voice.

"Come on," Beth said. "I seriously doubt that assassins knock."

"Shows what you know," Alex said with a tilt of his head.

"I can leave it outside if, you know, this isn't a good time," the voice said.

Alex undid the chain. Then the two other locks that held the door secure. He cracked it open slowly, his hand never leaving the butt of his gun. After a second, he let the door fall open.

A metal cart rolled into the room, pushed by the same waiter they'd run into in the corridor. The one that Alex had put into a choke hold not three hours ago.

"Hey, it's you," the guy said with a big smile. Apparently, he wasn't the kind to hold grudges. Alex didn't look half as happy to see him. "Is there any chance that you could show me how you pulled off that sick move earlier?"

"No chance in hell."

"That's too bad," he said. "Not many people get the drop on me. I'd like to have known how you did it."

Beth felt a tickle of unease as the waiter reached behind him and started to pull something out of his back waistband. She took a step to the side, so she was positioned behind the couch, as the waiter turned toward her. She didn't wait. She listened to her gut and threw herself on the ground. She caught a flash of gunmetal as she fell.

She heard the gun go off. It was quieter than she expected. He must have had a silencer. Shards of wood floated to the floor as the bullet embedded in the wardrobe five feet behind her.

Beth lifted her head in time to see Alex slam into the other man. The waiter quickly recovered and tried turning the gun in Alex's direction. But the men were too close.

Alex grabbed the man's wrist and yanked it back hard. There were no broken bones this time, but the gun fell. Alex took a hard hit to the jaw, but he took it without complaint. And gave one of his own right back.

The hits flew so fast Beth had a hard time keeping track. This guy was better than the last. There was no doubt about that. He kept up with the speed of Alex's punches, deflecting the worst of the attack.

Alex might need her help. She looked around for the gun and found it underneath the couch, just out of reach. She tried to squeeze her way under, but couldn't quite fit. She desperately stretched out her arm, past the point of pain. Her fingers just barely brushed the butt. She flicked at it, willing it to move into her hand, until she finally got a decent grip on it.

She'd never held a real gun before, just water pistols when she was a kid, but she figured the idea was the same. Business end points at bad guy. Pull the trigger. Except if she did manage to fire this thing, something a hell of a lot worse than someone getting wet would happen.

Beth popped up from behind the couch. She tried to aim at the waiter, but her hands were shaking too hard. She straightened her arms and locked her elbows. It didn't help.

Not that it mattered. The men were fighting too close for her to risk taking a shot.

Both men were taking a beating. Blood trickled from cuts on their faces. Body blows hit with sickening thuds, but other than that they didn't make a sound. Neither grunted. Neither cried out.

The waiter landed a solid hit into Alex's gut. Alex backed up a step, breathing hard. It looked like he was in trouble. The assassin must have thought the same thing. He took advantage, going for another hard blow to Alex's side. But Alex didn't crumple.

Instead, in a flash, he grasped the man's forearm and twisted the arm back at an unnatural angle. Only then did the waiter make a sound. It wasn't a scream exactly, but a muffled yelp that was no less sickening. Alex took advantage of the waiter's injury, twisting his elbow until it crooked behind his spine. Alex slung his other arm around the man's throat, immobilizing him.

Only then did Alex look over at her. He was breathing hard, and his face was bleeding pretty bad. It was obvious that he was favoring his right side. Beth realized that he had faked his injury, at least partially. But he hadn't fallen. She should have known that it would have taken a hell of a lot more than that to bring Alex Tanner down.

What had John said? _He would have brought an army._

Alex positioned himself so his back was against the wall, holding the waiter fast in his arms. The guy wasn't going anywhere. Beth closed her eyes and turned her face. She didn't want to watch as another guy crumpled to the floor with a broken neck.

"Get my phone," Alex said. She opened one eye and peeked. The waiter, or whoever the hell he was, was still alive. "Find John in my contact list and tell him we need backup."

Beth nodded. She dropped the gun on the couch and looked around for Alex's phone. It was on the bedside table. Her legs were shaky, but she made it there all right. It turned out her fingers were even shakier. It took her three attempts to dial John before she succeeded.

It was a good thing she hadn't tried to shoot that gun after all.

The phone only rang once.

"Go," a voice said from the other end.

"Um...John," she said. It was only after she heard her own voice that she realized that she was crying.

"Beth? What's going on? Where's Alex?" It was the closest thing to emotion that she'd heard in his voice.

"He's okay. But we need some help."

The man started to struggle anew in Alex's grasp. Alex jolted his arm up again. This time there was a harsh crack and the man moaned as he sagged in Alex's arms.

"Backup," Alex repeated. "We need backup."

"He says backup," Beth said into the phone, "but I'm sticking with help."

It didn't take the cavalry long to arrive. John was there before the tears dried on Beth's cheeks. There were two other men with him. There would have been four, he said, but the other two were busy helping the agent they'd found shot at the end of the hallway.

The man she'd seen when they'd stepped from the elevator. Beth felt her heart sink to the floor. The tears welled up again and rolled down her cheeks.

This was all because of her. A man had been shot because of her. Alex's face and body had taken a beating because of her. God knew how many more were putting their lives in danger, all because of her.

"He's going to live," John told her. His voice was as flat as ever, but he put his hand on her shoulder for a millisecond. She looked up at him and smiled. He was trying to comfort her. He was terrible at it, but at least he was trying. That was what mattered.

The two men with John wasted no time hauling off the waiter.

"Where are you taking him?" Beth asked.

Both John and Alex looked at her, mouths closed. Yeah, she shouldn't have expected an answer.

It shouldn't have happened. He knew better. He knew the danger out there, and he'd allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security. It wasn't like him at all.

Alex looked at his bloody face in the bathroom mirror. He was lucky that this was the only price he had to pay for his momentary lapse in judgment. Beth could have been killed.

He slammed his fist down hard on the porcelain sink.

Damn, he knew better. Maybe John was right. Maybe he had let his emotions cloud his mind.

"You all right in here?" John appeared in the doorway.

"I'm fine," Alex said through gritted teeth.

"I can tell. You look like hell."

Alex started dabbing at his face. "I've had worse."

"That you have. How's the rest of you?"

Alex washed most of the blood off his face and assessed his injuries.

He had a cut above his right eye. Another on his cheek. His nose was bleeding but not broken. There was a hell of a bruise forming on his jaw.

He lifted his shirt and took a look in the mirror. His side was red as hell, and there was already some purple showing through, but other than that he was fine.

"Battered, but not broken," Alex said.

John nodded. "I'll double the guard on the floor tonight. You guys get some sleep. I have a feeling this last defeat isn't going to sit well with our guy."

Alex turned from the mirror. His muscles were beginning to ache as the adrenaline fled his body.

"You think he'll try again tonight?"

"I doubt it. He's going to need to regroup and come up with a new plan," John said. "Hopefully we'll be able to get some information out of this latest guy. Thanks for not snapping his neck."

"I wanted to," Alex admitted.

"I know." John clapped him on the shoulder. Alex winced.

"You sure you're all right?" John asked. "You don't need me to send anyone else in?"

Alex glared at his friend. "I'm not leaving her, John."

John looked at him long and hard before nodding again. "All right then," he said before turning and leaving.

The room stayed silent. Alex helped Beth into the bed, and pulled her into his arms. She cried for a little longer before sleep took her, and her breathing slowed. He kept his arms around her and waited for his mind to stop buzzing long enough for sleep to find him as well.

But it wasn't the fear of more attacks that kept him awake. It was the last thing he'd said to John.

He wasn't leaving her. He'd meant it. And he hadn't just been talking about tonight.

# Chapter 12

A girl could get used to waking up this way.

Alex's strong arm was draped over her chest. He was spooned up against her, his groin nestled against the curve of her bottom. She snuggled a little deeper in his embrace, and felt a stirring between his legs.

Yeah, a girl could definitely get used to this.

His chin was perched on top of her head and she fit perfectly into the hollow beneath him. This was paradise.

Well, it would have been if it weren't for the constant beeping of her phone alarm. It kept going and going. Like there was something important she had forgotten. Somewhere she had to be.

Isobel's wedding.

Beth shot straight up. Alex let out a little groan of disappointment.

"Things were just getting good," he said.

Beth blushed a little, and smiled to herself. After everything that had happened, it still stoked her ego that Alex desired her.

Then again, she had no idea how he felt about her otherwise. All she knew was that he liked her enough to keep her alive and sleeping in his bed. And really, shouldn't that be enough? Who wouldn't give their right hand to have spent two nights with this guy—three, if she counted the one he'd spent on the couch?

It should have been enough.

And yet, somehow, it wasn't. She wanted more. That was the problem. She had the feeling that when it came to Alex Tanner she would always want more. Even if she spent the rest of her days by his side, it would always be one day too little.

But the truth was that there was probably only today. And it had already started.

Beth pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked down at him. Her hand flew to her mouth.

He looked like hell. Well, as close to hell as a guy like Alex was ever going to get. His mouth was cut up and bruised. His nose and cheeks were red and swollen. And his right eye was sporting one hell of a shiner. It looked like he had fought for the heavyweight title last night.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"It's that bad, eh?" he asked. He rose up on his elbows, and she had the feeling that the rest of him wasn't faring much better than his face.

"No. It's just not...good."

"You're very reassuring."

"Sorry," she said. "What are we going to tell everyone at the wedding?"

"The truth," he said. Beth's eyes widened even further. "That you like it rough."

Beth whacked him in the shoulder with a pillow. He grimaced a little.

"Sorry," she said, immediately bending down to kiss the spot she'd hit.

"I'm fine," he said.

Like hell he was fine. But she wasn't going to argue with him. She had her own problems to deal with. She had to get ready for a wedding.

Beth wriggled out of the sheets and stepped down onto the floor. She took a long, hot shower, all the time hoping that Alex would slide in behind her, help her wash her hair and...other parts. But he didn't. She understood. He had to be sore from the beating he'd taken last night. But still, it was hard not to want one last taste of him. She wasn't sure just how quickly he would be flying from her life once this was all over.

On the other hand, Beth wasn't sure she wanted to think too hard about how today was going to end. She wasn't sure the odds were in her favor of walking away alive. After last night's attempt on her life, she wasn't feeling all that optimistic.

Instead she reveled in the warm water washing over her. She looked out the window at the city below, just coming to life, and let her mind drift to all the things she'd never done, all the things she'd put off, thinking that she'd have the time to do them later.

Beth shoved the melancholy thought away. If this did prove to be her last day on earth, she wasn't going to waste it.

Beth turned off the water and wrapped a big, fluffy towel around her. One thing that she did know for certain—if she did survive this day, she was buying new towels. Life was too short to settle for the thin, crappy towels she had at home.

Alex was on the phone when she stepped out of the shower. He wasn't talking, just listening intently as he paced the floor of the bedroom, twisting and stretching, bringing his muscles back to life. He paused as she stepped into the room. The look on his face was flat.

"Understood," he said. He turned off the phone and tossed it on to the bed.

"That didn't sound good," Beth said.

"They've intercepted another message. Apparently, our guy isn't too pleased with the last two failures. He's decided to come down and take care of things himself."

Beth swallowed the lump that was quickly forming in her throat. "Is that a bad thing?" she asked.

"Depends on how you look at it. We have a better chance of catching this guy now than ever before," he said.

"That's good."

"But it also shows just how desperate he is to get you out of the picture. This guy is a total unknown. There's no telling what he's going to do."

"That's not so good."

Alex shook his head slowly. "No, it's not. But no matter what happens, I'm going to be right by your side."

She never doubted that he would. But there was an intensity to his words that made her pause, something underneath that she couldn't read.

"Thank you," she said. She wrapped her arms around him. She rested her face against his chest, and breathed deeply.

She had to tell him how she felt. She didn't know how he would react, but she wasn't going to live what might be her last day in fear.

"Listen, I want to tell you something. I'm not sure if it's just a reaction to everything that has happened the last couple of days. I mean you've saved me from two assassination attempts—that can change the way a girl looks at a guy."

"Beth," he said. His voice was filled with hesitation, but he didn't push her away.

"Or maybe it was how you dealt with my family and friends. Or the way you helped _me_ deal with them. Either way."

"Beth, don't."

She went on anyway. What the hell? The only thing was to just say it. Put it out there. Live a little before she died.

"The thing is, I love you."

There. Done. She'd said it.

He held on to her for another half second, not saying a word. Then he took a step back so she was an arm's length away. His fingers dug into her shoulders. His eyes were hard, intense, like gemstones. "You're only saying this because you think that you're going to die."

Beth shook her head. It wasn't entirely the reason. And it didn't change the fact that it was true.

Apparently, he didn't believe her. "You're going to be fine, Beth. Do you hear me? Nothing is going to happen to you."

"You willing to put money on that?" She tried humor. He didn't laugh.

"You're not going to die. I swear it."

He pulled her back into his arms, and held her with a protective ferocity that she'd never experienced.

He didn't utter another word. He didn't have to. He didn't feel the same way about her. She didn't really expect him to. They hadn't known each other for very long. The time that they had spent together was hardly conducive to courtship. Intense emotion, yes. But traditional wine-and-dine romance, not so much.

But it was obvious that he cared about her. Deeply. Passionately. Perhaps briefly. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter. She'd take what she could get.

Only now, _what she could get_ didn't seem half as satisfying as it had last night.

_I love you_.

The words rang in his head, over and over, as the hot shower rained down on him. She didn't mean it. She was just afraid, desperate.

But desperation wasn't where those words had come from. One look in Beth's eyes had shown him that her confession came from somewhere far deeper.

She loved him. He couldn't pretend that she didn't know what she was getting into. He may not have known her long but he'd already shared more with her than any other woman he'd been with. She'd peered into all his dark corners and still made a place in her heart for him.

Her strength, her resolve, her charm—they all amazed him. He would do anything to keep her safe and happy and by his side. Damn the consequences. If this wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

The realization hit him like a hit to the gut.

_Love_.

He loved her. He didn't just want her in his bed; he wanted her in his life. But for that to happen, he was going to have to get her through this day alive.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He found Beth curled up on the bed, hands covering her eyes.

"Beth?" he asked. She was sobbing. His heart sank. He should have told her how he felt the second she'd said the words.

She looked up, her eyes puffy and red.

"The dress," she said. Her voice was shaking so badly that he barely made out the words.

"The dress?" he asked. It was draped across the bed. He picked up the pile of lavender silk. This was what was making her cry?

"He shot it," she said. "Three months...okay...three weeks of near starvation, just to fit into the damned thing, and that son-of-a-bitch ruins everything."

Alex looked down at the dress in his hands. Sure enough, there was a jagged hole through the waist.

Alex hid the smile that was starting to pull at his lips. After all that she had been through, this was what was going to push her over the edge.

"It's going to be okay," he said, sitting next to her and putting his arms around her shoulders.

The look she shot him said otherwise. "You don't understand."

"Maybe I don't. Why don't you tell me?"

"It's not the dress," she said. "Well, it is, but it isn't."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"It's everything. All the crap that's been going on with Spencer, and my family, and Isobel getting married. And don't get me started with the attempts on my life. The one thing that kept me going strong instead of running for the hills was how good I was going to look in that dress. I know it sounds crazy."

"No, it doesn't," he said, even though it did.

She wiped at her eyes and glared at him. "Of course, it sounds crazy. It _is_ crazy. But it's still true. I just wanted to be perfect in that dress, and now some bastard has shot it."

He didn't quite understand. And maybe he'd have to spend his whole life with her before he ever did.

"And the funny thing is that now I wish that I had taken a shot at him. Not for trying to kill me. But for ruining this stupid, ugly bridesmaid dress."

She was laughing now. Laughing while she cried. Alex kept his arm draped around her shoulder. But he thought it might be better if he didn't say a word. She seemed to be doing fine just talking on her own.

Suddenly, she stood up. "Let's get these bastards today," she said, resolve shining in her eyes along with her tears. "I'm not going to let anyone ruin another damn thing in my life."

Alex smiled. That was a sentiment that he could get behind. He wasn't sure how she got there with a dress, but he supposed that didn't much matter.

"All right, then," she announced, turning toward the wardrobe. "I'm going to need a sweater."

"Is that a bullet hole?" Isobel asked, her voice going so high that it just barely fit in the range of human hearing.

Beth shook her head a little too emphatically. "No! What? Of course not."

Isobel bent over to inspect the holes in either side of Beth's dress. Beth tried to swat her away, but she refused to be deterred.

"Then what the hell caused this?" At least she sounded truly concerned and not upset. Beth didn't think she could take it if she ruined Isobel's big day.

"I don't know. Moths?" she tried.

Isobel stood. Her hands went to her hips. "Seriously? Moths?"

Beth shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

"Only you, Beth. Only you." Isobel shook her head. "You can borrow my white cardigan. That ought to cover it."

"Thank you," Beth said, overwhelmed with relief.

"You're not off the hook yet. You still haven't told me what's up with him." Isobel tilted her head toward Alex. He stood just inside the doorway of the honeymoon suite, doing his best to stay out of the way, but in a room full of bridesmaids getting their hair and makeup done, he was completely out of place.

"I told you, he's just hanging out," Beth said. It was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses. At this point, it was easier to have everyone think that he was some kind of control freak.

"No, I mean what happened to him? He's all beat up," Isobel said.

"He fell out of bed in the middle of the night." It came out more question than answer.

Isobel stared at her for a second before throwing her hands up in the air.

"Okay, you're going to tell me what's really going on here."

"Isobel," Mrs. Munoz shouted from across the room. "It's time to get your makeup done."

"Right after the ceremony," Isobel said to Beth. She poked her finger into Beth's chest for good measure. "Promise?"

"Promise," Beth said.

A reprieve. Thank God.

Beth shrugged the white beaded sweater over her shoulders. It wasn't the greatest match, but at least it covered the holes.

"How do I look?" she asked Alex, going to stand in front of him.

"You look great," he said. He looked like he meant it.

"The sweater doesn't make me look too matronly?"

He shook his head. He obviously wasn't in the mood to talk about sweaters. There was something else on his mind.

"We have to go downstairs to meet John. That isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

"I don't think so," she said. "There's still a little time before we have to make our way to the garden. I'm all ready, so I doubt anyone is going to miss me."

"Good." He laced his fingers with hers as he led her from the room. They walked slowly down the hall, Alex checking every turn and doorway before allowing Beth to pass by.

They found John standing against the balcony doors in the lobby. He looked up as they approached, nodding at Beth.

"You look nice, Miss Bradley."

"Thank you," she said. She had the feeling that a compliment from John was a rare thing indeed.

Beth opened the doors and stepped out on the balcony as Alex and John talked. She wasn't interested in hearing about more intercepted communications, or how secure the perimeter around the hotel was. All she wanted was half a minute to herself.

Alex didn't stop her, so she figured she was safe enough. He was just on the other side of the glass door. Besides, a bit of fresh air and quiet was worth the risk.

She went to the railing and looked out over the bay. The wind was calm, the temperature mild. A few puffy white clouds dotted the sky, but nothing threatening. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

Beth offered up a little prayer that everything would go as planned today, and not just because that would mean that she wouldn't get wheeled from the Kensington in a body bag, but because Isobel deserved a perfect day.

Maybe one day Beth would get a wedding day of her own.

If she lived that long.

Beth looked down at the sound of passing footsteps. And froze.

It was him. Dear God, it was _him_.

The man she had seen in the laundry room. The man who had been with Salvatore. The man who wanted her dead.

Their eyes locked. Beth's fingers curled around the railing. She tried to open her mouth to call out for Alex, for John, for anyone, but nothing came out.

The man stared back, recognition showing in his narrowed eyes. He slipped his hand into his jacket.

He was going for a gun. He was just going to shoot her right here and now. And why not? She was practically handing him his chance on a silver platter, standing stock-still, waiting patiently to be shot.

A switch turned on inside. She refused to go out quietly.

Beth opened her mouth and screamed. Full-throated and loud as a siren.

The man below her winced. More importantly, he hesitated.

In the space of a heartbeat, the balcony doors flew open and Alex was at her side. He grabbed her by the arms and spun her around.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking her up and down for injuries. "What is it?"

"He's here," she said. She couldn't keep her voice from shaking.

"Where?" John asked. His eyes were already scanning the parking lot.

"Down there." Beth pointed to the spot directly under the railing. The man had already disappeared. "He's gone."

"It's all right. We'll find him," Alex said.

Beth shook her head. "He went for a gun. He was going to shoot me. I panicked. I'm sorry."

Alex wrapped his arms around her. "Don't be sorry. You did what you had to do. And it was effective."

Alex pulled her closer to the door, but not all the way inside. John flanked her on the other side.

"I'll alert the team," John said.

"No need," Alex said with a hint of a smile. "I'm sure everyone in a three block radius heard that scream."

Beth smacked him in the shoulder. "I told you I was sorry."

John stared down at the pair of them, confusion on his face. She didn't blame him. She and Alex were a mismatched pair. But whatever was going on between them, it worked.

"I'm taking her back upstairs," Alex said.

Beth shook her head. "You can't do that."

"Of course I can."

"It's almost time for the ceremony," she said.

"And you're missing it." He pulled her through the doors into the relative safety of the lobby.

"Like hell I am. What good am I to anyone up in our room? I can't identify anyone. I can't draw anyone out."

"But I can keep you safe."

"For how long? What happens if this doesn't end this weekend while I still have the cavalry around me? Do I just go home? Do I go into witness protection?"

"Don't worry about that. I've already promised that I won't leave you."

"I don't want you to be my bodyguard, Alex. I want you to be my lover. Nothing else is going to work."

John coughed behind them. Beth didn't so much as blush.

Alex raked a hand through his hair. He looked down at her. His lips were a tight line. He knew as well as she did that what she said was true.

"Now, I am going to be in that wedding, and I am going to help you catch that son-of-a-bitch. So if you want to keep me safe, you better come up with a new plan, and you better do it quick."

# Chapter 13

"You're wearing a vest."

Beth barely had time to react to the object he tossed across the room at her. It landed with a hard thump against her chest.

"Oh come on, Alex. Let's be realistic," she said, lifting up the heavy thing to get a better look at it. It was thick and bulky and jet-black.

"Exactly. I am being realistic, Beth. There is a man out there who wants you dead. He's armed and he's determined. Your choices are wearing that vest or me shoving you in the back of a van and shuttling you clear across the country with me." He didn't sound like he was joking.

Beth gave the vest a good long look. She wasn't going to lie—the last option wasn't without allure. But she had already ruled out running. The same went for hiding. She'd been doing those things most of her life, and if there was one thing that she'd learned, it was that neither really worked out. Lies had a way of catching up with you.

Of course, there wouldn't be much to catch up to if she wound up with a great big hole in her chest.

She flicked her gaze between the vest and Alex. Alex and the vest.

Damn it.

"Okay, help me get into this ridiculous thing."

He pulled down the zipper of the dress and slid on the vest. It was hardly a flattering accessory. It flattened her chest. So much for the expensive push-up bra that she'd splurged on. To hell with the slimming effect of her smoothing undergarments. Right now she had the sexy silhouette of a hospital patient waiting for an x-ray.

The zipper just barely made it up her back. Same with Isobel's sweater. She had to stretch the material to its limit just to button it. Beth risked a look in the mirror.

Damn, she looked like a linebacker.

The only upside was there wasn't any time to think about it. Her phone buzzed and she answered.

"Where the hell are you?" Isobel practically screamed into the phone.

"I'm coming. I'm coming. I still have five minutes. I'll be there, I promise." She kept the phone on as she ran down the hall to the elevator. Alex matched her step for step.

"You need to tell me what the hell is going on right now, Beth. I'm starting to freak out," Isobel said on the other end.

"Nothing. Everything is fine," she said breathlessly into the phone. Running with the vest on was almost impossible. It weighed a ton. Her lungs struggled to expand.

"Like hell it is. My parents heard you screaming on the balcony. Jordan saw you running back to your room with Charlie. I don't care about delaying the ceremony if I have to. I just want to know that you're okay."

"I'm fine. I swear. I'll be there in one minute. Two minutes tops."

"You need to put the phone away," Alex said at her side.

"Is that Charlie?" Isobel demanded. "This is because of him, isn't it? I don't know what you've gotten into with this guy, Beth, but you've got to ditch him."

"I can't do that."

"Of course you can. Just lean back and kick him straight in the—"

Whatever target Isobel had in mind was lost as Alex ripped the phone out of her hands and tossed it over the railing. It disappeared into a blooming azalea bush.

Beth shrieked in alarm.

"I hate that damned phone," he said.

The wedding party was waiting by a copse of trees at the edge of the Rose Garden. Beth was totally out of breath by the time she reached them. Everyone turned and stared at her like she was crazy.

She'd made it. Just barely, but she'd made it.

Alex tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'll be in the front with John," he said. "He's got this place well covered. You're going to be fine. I'll come and get you the second this is over."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard.

There were a couple of gasps, one loud cough and, after he had pulled away, a whole lot of eye rolling. For the first time since she could remember, none of it bothered her. She had bigger worries.

Isobel started toward her, glaring at Alex.

"You better go," Beth whispered. She didn't want to be the cause of an even bigger scene before the ceremony.

He nodded, but didn't move. He opened his mouth like he was just about to say something. Something important. But Isobel was there before he could get it out.

"You," she said, looking straight at Alex. "You need to leave."

"You're right," he said. But he didn't look happy about it. His hand was still linked with hers. She didn't want to pull away. "I won't be far away. I promise."

Isobel waved her hands like she was shooing away a stray dog. "Go," she said.

Alex slowly turned and walked away. It was the first time in three days that she'd been away from him. Three days, but it felt like forever. In a good way. In a way that left her wondering how she ever got this far without him, or how miserable it was going to be to go on without him.

Fortunately, she didn't have much time to dwell on it. Isobel swiveled around, and it was Beth's turn to face her.

Beth gave her a wan smile.

"Beth, I don't know what you think you are doing, but I do know that that guy is nothing but bad news. He—" Isobel's face faded from red to white in an instant as she took in Beth's dress. "What the hell are you wearing under there?"

"Nothing."

Isobel pulled back the sweater. Her eyes went wide. "Is that a bulletproof vest?"

Beth pressed a finger to her lips. "We'll talk about it later," she said.

"Why on earth are you wearing a bulletproof vest?"

"Later," Beth repeated. "I promise I will explain everything later."

Isobel didn't look convinced, but Beth was saved when the music started up. Everyone in the wedding procession took their places. Beth found her spot next to Spencer. He looked her up and down and laughed.

"You look like a hot mess, Beth," he said.

Beth smiled as she took his arm. "Go fuck yourself, Spencer."

There wasn't time for any more pleasantries as they made their way down the aisle. She earned a few odd looks and whispers, but Beth didn't pay them any mind. She kept her eyes open for the man that she'd seen from the balcony. But he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Neither was Salvatore Munoz.

Alex was there, sitting in the second row. John stood at the edge of the roses, not doing anything to hide his presence. His team was easy enough to spot. They were the ones scattered around the perimeter of the garden looking away from the ceremony.

Beth's attention was pulled away from the crowd as Isobel started her march toward the altar. Her best friend looked more beautiful than ever. Every trace of worry and anger was swept from Isobel's face the second that her eyes locked on Jordan.

Beth smiled as the strings stopped playing and Isobel's father placed her hand in Jordan's. She felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. Isobel walked up the three gazebo steps to her place in front of the priest. Beth dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of the sweater.

Everything was right. Just as it should be.

"Dearly beloved," the priest began. Everyone sat.

And Beth was hit.

It came out of nowhere. There was no sound. No slow motion shot of the bullet ripping through the air at her heart. One moment she was fine, ready to bawl her eyes out as her best friend got married, and the next it felt as though someone was bashing her square in the chest with an iron hammer.

Beth crumpled to the ground. She couldn't breathe. She opened her mouth, desperate for air, but nothing happened. No sounds, no screams. Panic took over. She opened her eyes wide, but all she saw was the bright blue blanket of sky above her.

A few blinks later, Alex's face came into view.

She saw him mouth her name, but she couldn't hear his voice.

Shock, she realized. She was in shock.

There wasn't any comfort to be found in Alex's face. He looked every bit as panicked as she felt. His fingers ripped at the bodice of her dress, searching for a wound, feeling for blood. He loosened the sides of the vest, and shoved it aside. Some of the pressure left her chest. His hands pulled away clean.

"Look at me, Beth," he said. His voice sounded tinny and far away, but at least she could hear him now.

Her eyes went to his. He cupped his hand around the back of her neck.

"Try to breathe," he said, his voice shaking.

She opened her mouth again, but nothing happened.

"Again," he said.

Nothing.

"You just got the wind knocked out of you," he said. "You're going to be okay."

This time when she tried, the air rushed in. And everything else came with it.

She heard the pandemonium that had erupted—shouting and running and chairs being knocked over. She managed to turn her head as Isobel came into view.

"Beth, what happened?" When Beth couldn't answer, she looked at Alex. "Dear God, somebody shot her."

"Everything is under control," Alex said.

"Like hell it is. What is going on?" Isobel screeched. Alex waved his hand and suddenly Jordan was there, wrapping his arms around Isobel's waist.

"We have to get everyone out of here," Alex said to him. Jordan was as white as a sheet, but he nodded. People might not know who Alex was, but they knew to listen to him.

Alex hooked his arms under Beth's back and legs and lifted her up. He started toward the hotel. Most of the crowd had already scattered...except her parents. They were running toward her, tears in her mother's eyes.

"Is she all right?" her mother shouted from a good twenty feet away.

Alex nodded. Her mother rushed over and took her hand, crushing it with a ferocity that surprised her.

"Oh, my baby girl," she said, pushing back her hair. "Who would want to do such a thing to you?"

"I'm going to be okay, Mom." Beth forced the words out. It hurt to talk. Hell, it hurt to breathe.

"I have to get her inside," Alex said, without breaking his stride. "We need to get somewhere secure."

Her mother nodded. "Of course."

"I can walk," Beth said.

"No, you can't," Alex said, his voice like steel. "You're in shock, Beth. It's going to be a while before you can do anything."

His arms tightened around her as he carried her the rest of the way through the garden.

Her mother never let go of her hand. If she was going to die today, at least she wouldn't be alone.

Alex stopped short as he stepped through the hotel door. The chaos from outside had spilled into the lobby, but the crowd stopped jostling and talking the moment he and Beth came into view.

Alex hesitated. Anyone could be waiting in the crowd with gun in hand to finish the job.

He took a right instead and headed toward the lounge, kicking the glass doors closed behind him.

It wasn't much protection, but he'd take what he could get. He carried Beth to a loveseat against the far wall and laid her down on it. It was early enough in the day that the only other person in there was one very confused bartender prepping for the reception.

He'd known something like this was likely to happen, and he was still shaken all the way to his core.

Mrs. Bradley came running into the room. "I need you to do me a favor," he told her. "I need you to go out there and find a man named John Ryman. I need you to tell him where we are."

He gave her John's description, and she nodded. But he saw all his own fears reflected in her wide eyes. "I don't want to leave her," she whispered.

"I understand." And, dear God, he did. "But we need to get her to a hospital, and John is the only one I trust to make that happen."

Alex knew that this woman had no reason to trust him. She had no idea who he really was, or what role he played in her daughter's life. But she didn't yell, or demand answers. She just looked over his shoulder at Beth.

"It's okay, Mom. Do what Alex says. He's here to help," Beth said in a small voice.

"Alex? I thought his name was Charlie," Mrs. Bradley said.

"I'll explain everything later, Mom. I promise."

Mrs. Bradley nodded and gave Beth one long last look before turning for the door. Alex slid a table in front of the doors as they closed behind her, blocking the way. It wasn't much protection, but it was the best he could do.

Beth struggled to sit up as he brought her a glass of water. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't take the cup. He got down on one knee by her side and held it for her.

Her breath was coming easier now, and her face regaining its color, but not enough to calm him completely. She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I guess you won the bet," she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Looks like I'm not going to die today."

She drew in a deep breath and winced. The impact from the bullet had been enough to bruise the hell out of her ribs. They might even be broken. And there was no telling what other injuries she might have. He had to get her to the hospital as soon as possible.

But first he was going to have to wait for John's team to clear out the area. He wouldn't be taking any more chances with her life.

Never again.

Alex pushed back her hair and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. At least he meant it to be gentle, but there were too many emotions warring inside his chest—fear, relief, guilt—and he might have pressed a little harder than he intended.

"That's not funny," he whispered against her ear.

"Come on," she said again. With every breath he could see her getting stronger. "It was a little funny."

He smiled despite himself. She was starting to sound like herself again. It was a good sign. It meant that the worst of the shock was starting to fade.

She tried to sit up, but he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You need to lie down."

"But I'm feeling better, I swear."

"It's just the adrenaline. You're going to be twice as shaky when it fades."

She gave him a glare before slumping back down against the cushions. "Okay."

"Anyway, there's nowhere to go. Not until John gets here."

He knelt at her side, stroked her hair back, and stared into her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Beth asked after a minute of silence.

"Not anymore."

"But your hand is shaking," Beth said. She'd never sounded so surprised.

He laughed a little. "Of course, it is. For a minute there I thought that I'd lost the woman I love."

Beth's eyes widened. "Love? You love me?"

"Madly," he said.

Now she was the one that was shaking.

"So you're not leaving after all of this is over with?" she asked.

"I can't promise that," he said. "But if I have to go, I'd like you to come with me."

"I'd like that too." Her voice wasn't so little anymore. He pressed his lips to hers, but had to break the kiss a moment later when there was a hard rap on the glass door.

John was standing on the other side. He didn't look too happy. A small crowd of onlookers peeked around him.

Alex slid the table away and let him in.

"We lost him," John wasted no time saying. "There's no trace of the shooter."

"How could that happen?" Alex demanded. "You said you had every inch of these grounds covered."

"I thought we did. Your guy found the only place that we didn't."

Alex cursed and hit the table in front of him. He didn't want to tell Beth that they'd failed. That she'd taken a shot to the chest for nothing. That she was still in danger.

"The only good news is there's no sign of anyone leaving. If he's still here, we'll catch him," John insisted.

Alex didn't want to hear it. He was done with promises. He would catch this son-of-a-bitch on his own if he had to. Then he would gut him. Simple as that.

Alex had only taken a single step when the sound of an opening door caught his attention. The side door that led to the service hallway swung open. He hadn't secured it. He'd forgotten all about it. Salvatore Munoz leaned out from the hallway.

Alex had barely curled his fingers around the gun at his waist when the shot was fired. Munoz ducked back behind the door. Alex pulled his weapon and wasted no time returning fire. John was right behind him. They dove behind a table.

Beth shrieked at the sounds of the shots. The crowd outside the glass doors scattered. Pandemonium exploded in the hallway as people tumbled over themselves to get to safety.

Alex looked over his shoulder at Beth. "You have to get out of here," he shouted. "Go to the room. Get my gun out of the closet and shoot anyone who comes to the door who isn't me. John and I will cover you."

Beth struggled to stand. Her legs were still wobbly, but she managed. Alex and John both unloaded their clips as she ran for the door. She fumbled with the lock, but made it out.

He prayed to God that he'd made the right decision.

Beth stumbled into the lobby. Her legs felt like rubber bands beneath her, but there was enough adrenaline running through her system to keep her upright.

The lobby was mostly empty. There were still a few people huddled around the far door, some pushing and shoving to get out, others trying to sneak one last look. She didn't recognize anyone.

Good, that meant that everyone she cared about was far away and out of danger.

Beth tried the door to the stairs but it wouldn't budge.

Crap. Somebody had probably panicked and locked it as they went in there for cover.

Beth went to the elevator and pressed the button. Miracle of miracles, the doors opened immediately. She stepped inside.

She drew in a deep breath, her first since she'd been shot. She was letting it out when she realized that someone had slipped in behind her just before the elevator doors slid closed.

Beth spun around and came face to face with the man who wanted to kill her.

# Chapter 14

"Hello, Miss Bradley," he said. The sound of his calm, measured voice chilled her down to the bone. "My congratulations. You've turned out to be a very hard woman to kill."

Oh God, she was going to die.

She made a little whimpering sound. Fear held her paralyzed. She tried to beg for her life, but nothing came out. Not that it would have mattered. This man wasn't the kind who could be swayed by words.

He held a big black gun in his hand, and it was pointed at her. Not at her chest this time. Of course not. This time the gun was aimed straight at her head. He pressed the button for the top floor, and the elevator started to rise.

"You understand that I have to make sure the job is done right this time. Nothing personal."

Beth closed her eyes tight. In just a few seconds, her brains were going to paint the wall behind her.

This stranger was going to kill her just because she had wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time. Just when she had finally figured out what she wanted in life. Just as she'd found love. It wasn't fair.

Beth opened her eyes. No, it wasn't fair. It was wrong. And she wasn't going to let it happen. Not without a fight.

The man waited until they were between floors before leaning back and pulling the emergency stop button. The old elevator lurched awkwardly. The man tilted off balance. And Beth saw her opportunity.

She threw herself at the man. Her body hit him full force, and he stumbled backward. His head hit hard against the wall, but he held fast to the gun.

He stumbled, lashing out with his fist. The punch landed hard against Beth's face, and the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.

She was going to have to find something to fight with or this was going to be one short battle. The man outweighed her by a good fifty pounds, and he had a gun. She went for the only thing she could find in the confined space. The fire extinguisher.

She swung it against him just as he recovered enough to take aim at her. The gun went off.

Searing pain tore through her left arm. The florescent bulb behind her exploded, plunging the elevator into darkness for a fraction of a second before the emergency lights came to life. A surreal red glow filled the elevator.

The man swore in pain and grasped his wrist with his free hand.

Beth didn't waste any time. She swung again. And again.

The gun fell to the floor. So did the man.

She swung again and heard a bone crack.

Once more, and his eyes rolled up into his head. A long groan came from his lips.

Beth dropped the fire extinguisher and picked up the gun. She positioned herself in the corner, propping her back up against the wall and holding the gun in front of her with both hands. Blood streamed down her arm and onto the barrel before dripping to the floor.

She'd been shot. The pain was almost unbearable. She had to get to help or she was going to collapse right alongside her attacker.

She managed to push the emergency stop button back in with her good hand, then the lobby button. The elevator slowly made its way back down to the ground floor.

It only took twenty-three seconds for the elevator to reach the lobby and the doors to open. Beth counted every single one of them.

Alex was standing there when they arrived. He stared down at the bloody and limp body on the floor, and then up at her. Relief washed over his face.

His arms were around her in a heartbeat. Only then did she drop the gun. She slumped in his arms as her legs gave out.

"That's him," she said, through the tears and blood that covered her face. "That's the guy."

John entered the elevator as Alex carried her out. He gave her an appreciative nod as she went by.

"You're wounded," Alex said. He called out for help before sitting her down just outside of the elevator.

"You should see the other guy," she said.

Alex managed a shaky smile. He grasped her face between his hands and kissed her just as the EMTs arrived. They tried to get Alex to move away as they treated her and got her up on a gurney, but he refused to leave her side. Not even for a second. Not as they wheeled her from the hotel. Not as they put her in the ambulance. It wasn't until she had to go into surgery that he finally let go of her hand.

"You're going to be fine," he said, kissing her on the forehead before letting the medical team push her through the double doors. "I'll be here waiting for you."

"You've got to tell these people to stop, Isobel. I don't think this room can take another bouquet," Beth said, as Isobel tried to fit another vase of flowers on the crowded bedside table.

Her hospital room was quite a bit smaller than the suite at the Kensington Hotel, but it wasn't bad. There was a window that looked out over the six-story concrete parking structure. And she could tell time by listening to the sounds of the buses and commuter trains passing by.

Flowers had started flooding in the day after she'd been admitted, right around the time the story hit the news. Well, not every detail made the news. It turned out that the CIA wasn't too keen on sharing the bit about its treasonous agent. They mostly kept to the part about the bringing down of Salvatore Munoz and stopping a future attack on the oil reserves, and how a citizen who was critical to the whole mission was injured in the attack.

It all played very nicely on the six o'clock news.

The flowers appeared after that. There hadn't been enough room in her cramped hospital room for all of them. So Beth had shared the bouquets with the nurses and all the other patients on the floor.

"You try stopping them," Isobel said. "These are from my Aunt Maritza."

Beth tried not to laugh, and not just because she had three badly bruised ribs, a busted lip and a bullet hole that went clean through her left arm. She knew she couldn't change people. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to anymore.

"Look, Isobel. I know words aren't going to be enough, but I'm so sorry that I ruined your wedding."

Isobel picked up Beth's hand. "You didn't ruin anything. My uncle was the one who did that. I should be the one apologizing to you for what my family did to you."

"It's not your fault. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't."

Isobel nodded. "I understand. And it's okay. Jordan and I picked a new date."

Beth's face lit up. "When?"

"Next Friday. We've settled on a nice civil ceremony down at the courthouse."

Beth's face fell. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Isobel said. A huge smile lit up her face. "Do you have any idea how well armed courthouses are?"

Beth winced as she laughed again.

"You look tired, Beth. I'm thinking I better go and let you rest."

Isobel turned to leave, but before she did she turned and looked at Alex.

"So...Alex, right?"

"Right," he said.

"I guess that you're not a gigolo then?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I guess not."

"That means I owe you an apology," Isobel said.

"It's not necessary."

"I'm thinking that it is," Isobel said. "But what I said still stands. Don't you dare hurt her."

"I have no plans to," he said, and tightened his grasp on Beth's hand.

"Good. Because you don't scare me, Mr. CIA Agent. I'll still come after you, whoever you are."

"Yes, ma'am," Alex said with a laugh.

Beth turned to Alex once Isobel was gone.

"You don't have to sleep in that chair again tonight. The doctors say I'm doing much better."

He shook his head. "I'm not here because I have to be, Beth. I want to be with you. I love you."

Her heart swelled. Those simple words did more to heal her than any doctor's medicine.

"Yeah, but you could get yourself a good night's sleep in a real bed."

"I don't need a bed," he said. "I need you. How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through? I'm not leaving. Not now. Not ever."

Beth was thinking that a hundred might do. Maybe a thousand. Maybe a lifetime's worth.

<<<<>>>>

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# Sneak Peeks

Excerpt from The Agent Next Door by Adrienne Bell

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Book Two in The Second Service Trilogy

"It looks like Number Thirty-two is finally moving in. There's a truck in the driveway and a moving van pulling up now."

Erin Holliday lifted her head from the flower pot in front of her and looked up at Marianne Wilson. Her octogenarian neighbor was up on her tiptoes, doing her best to peer over the five-foot high boxwood shrub that edged Erin's porch...and failing. Marianne teetered to one side, and dug her hands deep into the leafy top to keep her balance.

Erin winced at the sight of all the shiny new leaves being crushed in her friend's tiny, though by no means frail, hands, but she didn't say a word. She could bear to sacrifice a few branches for the sake of keeping Marianne upright.

Not that her protests would have mattered anyway. If Marianne had made up her mind to spy on the new neighbors moving in across their shallow cul-de-sac, then nothing Erin could say was going to stop her. At least this way she was at least partially shielded from sight.

"I was wondering when that was going to happen," Erin said, turning her attention back to the pot of orange and yellow Gerbera daisies in the center of her crossed legs. She pushed down the top of the soil, moulding it into place. "It's been empty for weeks."

"Almost two months," Marianne corrected her. Erin didn't doubt her accounting. Marianne could probably tell her the exact date the house had sold.

Erin looked up at the grating sound of her weathered wrought iron bench being dragged from the corner by her front door. Ivy tendrils that had long ago wrapped around the scroll work arms snapped as they were torn from the wall.

"Marianne!"

"What?" her friend said without lifting her head. "Would you rather I climb up on this ridiculous bush. I don't even know why you planted the damned thing here. You can't see a thing over it."

Exactly.

"I like the privacy," Erin said.

Marianne harrumphed loudly as if that were the most ridiculous thing that she had ever heard.

Erin watched as Marianne hoisted herself up on her new perch. Her head and shoulders showed high above the flat top of the shrub. She twisted around and gave Erin a victorious grin.

Great. There would be no talking Marianne down from there now, not when there was juicy gossip to be had. And in this neighborhood, a new face was about as juicy as things got. Fortunately, that was how Erin liked it, but she had a feeling that Marianne was always hoping that something a little more exciting would happen.

But it never did. Not in the Silicon Valley suburb of Emerald Glen, and certainly not on Shannon Court. Every few months someone in the surrounding neighborhood would pack up and a new family would move in.

For the most part, Erin liked her neighbors, steady wage workers for the surrounding tech companies and their families. They were polite people, calm and quiet, just waiting to move up in the world.

"Do you know who is moving in?" Erin asked, hoping to keep Marianne occupied for a little while longer.

"Not really. The Goldmans didn't have much information about the people who bought the house from them," Marianne said.

Erin smiled as she pulled her spade from the bag of soil at her side. So there was a limit to the woman's gossiping powers. "I wonder why it took them so long to move in."

"We'll find out soon enough. The movers are opening up the back of the van now." Marianne's voice went up an octave, her excitement shining through.

It was turning out to be a lovely summer Saturday. Erin had a new batch of flowers to replace those that had withered in last week's sweltering heat wave. The sound of kids playing somewhere in the neighborhood drifted across the courtyard. Later, the Michalsons were going to have a barbecue, but she had plenty of time before then to finish up all her yard work. Even the weather was obeying. It was warm but bearable in the dappled shade of her wood-planked porch. All in all, it was a perfect day to sit out and listen as Marianne babbled on about the shape and size of every box and piece of furniture as it was hauled from the moving truck.

"It's not a very big van," Marianne started. Erin gave a generic sound of interest, as she pulled a cluster of impatiens from the plastic container. "Certainly not big enough to fill that whole house. I hope there's another one on the way, because that dinky van can't possibly have—"

Erin lifted her head. Nothing ever shut Marianne up. Nothing. But there she was, her palm clasped over her mouth.

"Oh, my," Marianne whispered between her fingers after a moment had passed.

Erin put the pot down by her side. "What is it?"

"Oh, my." Marianne repeated.

"What? What?" Erin uncrossed her legs, grabbed onto one of the rungs of the ivy-covered trellis at her side and hoisted herself off the ground. She cursed under her breath as she rose. She'd been sitting there so long that her foot had fallen asleep. The second she put her weight on it, electric pinpricks shot up her leg. She hobbled over to the bench as best she could.

Erin peered across the street, expecting to see a Swarovski chandelier, or a collection of dungeon equipment, or a live donkey—anything that would merit such a stunned reaction. But there was nothing.

"What is it?"

Marianne shook her head. "Not a what, a who."

"Huh?"

"Are you blind? Check out your new neighbor."

Marianne held out a boney finger in the direction of a man walking down the path.

Erin's jaw fell open. Oh, Lord. That couldn't be her new neighbor. It just couldn't.

He was big, wide at the shoulders with arms that stretched the limits of his plain grey T-shirt. His jeans fit his muscular legs perfectly. His hair was dark and military short. His features were as large and strong as the rest of him.

"He's a handsome devil, isn't he?" Marianne said as he strode purposely from his front door to the edge of his drive.

As much as Erin hated to admit it, Marianne was right, especially about the devil part. The stranger across the street was unnaturally good-looking, and there wasn't any use in pretending otherwise. Not that it mattered. One look, and Erin could tell that he was trouble. She saw it in the strong line of his shoulders, the confident cock of his head, his steady, unworried gait—this was a man that was used to being in control. The kind that always got his way. The kind she'd spent the last twenty years of her life trying to avoid.

So why couldn't she turn away? It was almost as if the man demanded attention.

An electric tingle started down Erin's spine, radiating clear down to her fingertips and toes. The sizzles? Erin shook her head, desperate to clear it. This guy couldn't give her the sizzles. She wouldn't allow it.

He came to a stop at the edge of his wide green lawn, looking over Shannon Court. Just before his gaze reached her house, Erin ducked down on the bench below.

"Are you all right?" Marianne asked.

"Just fine," Erin said.

Marianne must not have been too concerned. She turned immediately back toward the street. She raised her arm above her head and waived in a wide arch.

"Quit it, Marianne. He's going to see you," she said.

"I certainly hope so." Marianne's eyes lit up. The crinkles that surrounded them lifted.

Damn. Erin should have known better than to put ideas in her friend's head.

Marianne started to jump up and down on the bench. "Yoo-hoo! Number Thirty-two!"

"Stop it. You're going to fall." The last thing she needed was for Marianne to break a leg in her exuberance.

Marianne shot her a sour look. "Well, you're no fun today. I don't see why you care. If you're not going to stake your claim on him, then I'm going to try."

"Seriously, Marianne. Quit it. He doesn't look like the kind of man that you want to mess with."

"Speak for yourself, doll. That man is _exactly_ the kind I'd like to mess around with."

Erin hung her head. Why did she even try?

"Oh! He's looking this way." Marianne's voice went an octave higher.

"Can't imagine why," Erin muttered.

"That's right! Over here." Marianne smiled down at her. "He's coming over."

Of course he was.

Erin sunk down from the bench to the floor and started to scoot over to the corner of the porch.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just getting back to work," Erin said, wedging herself as deep as she could into the shadows of the ivy-covered trellis.

Marianne's brows pulled together in a tight V. She slowly shook her head. "Sometimes I worry about you, child."

She didn't have to worry for long. A second later, a deep voice sounded from the edge of the boxwood.

"Hello."

The knot that had formed in Erin's chest clenched tighter around her heart. His voice sounded just like she'd imagined it would. Strong and unflappable. Unbidden adrenaline rushed through her body. She did her best to still the shaking that crept into her hands, but it was hard. They refused to stop trembling.

She had to get a grip. It was too late to bolt now, and there was no way in hell she could leave Marianne alone with this guy. There was no telling what she would do. It was amazing that a woman with so little common sense had managed to make it to eighty-two.

"Hi there, neighbor," Marianne said, as a shadow fell over the fence and on to her patio. Erin leaned back a little farther in the shelter of the ivy. "I'm Marianne Wilson."

"John Ryman." His voice was steady and low.

"We were wondering when we were ever going to see you."

"We?"

"Erin and I. Erin's the one hiding in the ivy."

The breath stopped in Erin's throat. Once she got it back, she leaned out a few inches, and tried to laugh. The sound came out high and tinny, every bit as desperate as she felt.

"I'm not hiding," she said. "I'm gardening."

She risked a glance up in the man's direction. His expression gave nothing away. If he thought it was strange that she appeared from a shroud of ivy, he didn't show it. His lack of reaction only made her feel worse. He was in control. She wasn't.

He didn't help her nervousness by looking away. His eyes stayed on her a few seconds longer than they should have. It shouldn't have surprised her. She probably would have stared too. She had to look like a hot mess in these ragged, dirty clothes and her hair poking out from under the edges of a ball cap. But, really, who dressed up to garden?

Then again who hid in trellises when strange, large men walked by? Crazy people, that's who.

"Hi," she said, cursing her shaky voice.

"Hello," he said, before finally turning back to Marianne. "Is this your granddaughter?"

Marianne barked out a high laugh. "Erin? Oh, heavens no."

"We're neighbors," Erin said, shaking her head furiously. "This is my house. Marianne lives across the way on Fairview."

"Alone..." Her friend added, batting her eyelashes.

Erin nudged Marianne in the side with her elbow. The woman didn't even flinch.

"That's a mighty small moving truck you've got there," Marianne plowed on.

John nodded. "My last place was an apartment."

"Ah...moving up in the world?"

He paused. "Something like that."

"That's nice," Marianne said, as if her approval mattered. "Where did you move from?"

"Oakland."

"So I take it you're a single fella."

"I am."

"Marianne..." Erin's cheeks burned.

"What?" Marianne snipped at her. "How else am I supposed to get to know my neighbors? You want answers; you ask questions. Isn't that right, Mr. Ryman?"

"Sounds right." A hint of a grin played at the corner of his mouth. Erin would have missed it if she hadn't been looking right at him. It barely flickered there for a fraction of a second before it was gone, replaced by the same implacable expression that she found so disconcerting.

Erin drew in a deep breath and tried again. It was obvious that trying to control what came out of Marianne's mouth was a futile endeavor. Her only hope was to try to get her out of the way, even if only for a few seconds.

"I was only going to ask if you wouldn't mind going inside and refilling my iced tea."

"Ah, I get it. You want a little time alone," Marianne said with a wink. "I knew you'd come around."

Erin exhaled slowly, and looked down at the pavement. Even though she was mortified, she should be thanking the old lady. Her outrageous words were ensuring the one thing that Erin desperately wanted—from this point forward, John Ryman would go out of his way to avoid her.

That _was_ what she wanted, wasn't it?

Erin extended her arm so that Marianne could step down off of the bench. "Well, you better make your move fast, honey. I don't plan on being gone long."

Erin wore her strained smile for as long as it took for Marianne to walk through her front door. Then she turned toward her new neighbor and gave him her most apologetic look.

"I'm sorry about that," she said.

His chin tilted down a fraction of an inch. "About what?"

"Marianne. She gets a little over excited sometimes. Most times," Erin amended.

"She doesn't bother me," he said, and, strangely, he looked like he meant it.

"Still, you might want to run while you have the chance."

"Why would I do that?"

Erin blinked. Once. Twice. "I just figured you were busy."

"I can stay a little longer."

But why on Earth did he want to? That was the real question.

Erin decided to risk a little honesty. "Because if you're still here when Marianne gets back, she's only going to take it as encouragement."

"I can handle your friend."

"Yeah," Erin said with a smile. "That's what everyone thinks at first."

"I don't scare easy."

That Erin believed. He looked like he could stare down the devil himself and win.

"That's because you don't know Marianne. She's very...persistent."

"And you?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you the persistent type?"

Erin blushed as she shook her head. A little chuckle slipped from her lips. "No. I'm more the hide-in-the-ivy type."

"Good to know. I'll have to keep an eye out for you." A brief smile flashed across his face—a real one, this time—lifting the corners of his eyes and softening all his hard edges. Erin's heart started hammering against her breastbone, and this time it had nothing to do with fear. She might have only known him for a few minutes, but she had the feeling that a smile from John Ryman was a rare thing.

Erin found herself smiling back. She risked stepping up to the edge of her white wooden porch.

"I guess I should introduce myself properly. I'm Erin Holliday." She put out her hand before remembering just how dirty it was. She pulled it back, wiped the worst of the black soil off on her jeans and tried again.

He grasped her hand without hesitation.

"It's a pleasure, Erin."

She felt the tingles from his touch run up her arm. Even after she slipped her hand from his, the jittery feeling inside her didn't fade. Erin silently cursed her body's traitorous attraction to him, and not just because she'd spent the last twenty years of her life staying away from men like him.

Nurturing a crush on John Ryman was pointless. She had a feeling there had never been a more extreme pair of opposites. Even in jeans and a tight gray T-shirt he looked perfectly put together. She on the other hand was struggling to keep her belly sucked in and breathe at the same time. It wasn't a battle she was winning.

Erin gave a little nervous laugh. "It's nice to meet you too."

"What did I miss?" Marianne's voice sounded behind her. A moment later she was at Erin's side. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," Erin said.

"Yeah, right. I knew I shouldn't have left you two alone. I wasn't gone but a couple of minutes, and you've already taken the opportunity to sweep Mr. Muscles here off his feet."

"Marianne!" A sudden blush rushed into Erin's cheeks. Marianne, more than anyone else in the world, had to know she would never flirt with a man like her new neighbor. And she hadn't been. Had she?

Marianne put the glasses of ice tea down on the table in the far corner of the patio, and sat down in the sand-colored Adirondack chair next to it.

"I notice you're not rushing to contradict me, Mr. Ryman," Marianne said.

John shrugged, his brows rising and falling with his shoulders. At least he was polite enough to placate an old lady. That was in his favor. Still she gave her friend a hard look.

"So, did you get around to inviting your new neighbor to the barbecue?" Marianne asked.

Dear God, no. It was one thing to find that she could manage polite banter with her ridiculously hot, dangerous-looking neighbor; it was a whole other thing to spend an entire evening with him.

Erin swiveled around. She tried to give a subtle shake of her head, but Marianne stared right past her. Erin knew better than to think that her friend's eyes were going the way of her ears. Marianne could see just fine. She was just ignoring her pleas.

"A barbecue?" John asked behind her. Erin froze.

"So Erin didn't tell you that you picked the best day of the year to move into our little neighborhood?"

"It must have slipped her mind," he said. That sounded like disappointment. It sounded like it, but it couldn't be. There was no way.

"I just hadn't gotten around to it yet." Erin turned and gave him another apologetic look. "The Michalsons live a few houses down, and every summer they host a big backyard barbecue for the whole neighborhood. But I'm sure everyone would understand if you're too busy with the move, or just not interested."

"Not interested?" Marianne called out behind her. "What kind of man isn't interested in a barbecue?"

"I like barbecues," he said.

She kept giving him outs and he kept refusing to take them. Of course, she couldn't force him to take her help.

"Of course, you do," Marianne said, sounding pleased with herself. "It'll be nice having another single person there. Have you ever taken two women out on a date at the same time?"

John slowly shook his head. "Not yet."

"Ha!" Marianne laughed loud enough to scare the blackbirds from their perch in the sycamore tree in the center of Erin's yard. "Looks like it's your lucky day then. We'll come by around seven to pick you up," Marianne said.

"Sounds great," he said.

Erin shook her head, and leaned toward him. "I don't know what you're thinking, but she only gets worse with encouragement," she whispered.

"I'll take my chances."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Another smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Erin's eyes were drawn to it immediately. Familiar warning bells rang in her head. What the hell was she doing?

"You'd better go pay attention to those movers," Marianne called out behind them. "I hear they like to swipe stuff while the owner isn't looking, and, going by the size of that truck, you didn't have much to start with."

John raised his hand toward Marianne, and, after giving Erin a nod of his head, turned and strode across the street. He didn't look back. Not once. Leaving Erin to wonder how what had seemed like a perfectly normal day had so quickly been turned on its head.

Enjoy The Agent Next Door Now!

* * *

Excerpt from Carter by Adrienne Bell

* * *

Book One in The Sinner Saints Series

"Thank you again for taking this assignment on such short notice."

"Of course," Carter Macmillan said as he shook the hand of the grey-templed man before him. "I was honored to get your call this afternoon, Congressman."

"Well," four-term Congressman Buck Fuller said, "my Communications Director, Lucas, tells me that Macmillan Security is the best executive protection team in Sacramento."

Carter inclined his head. He wasn't one to brag, but he wasn't about to limit that distinction to their small metropolitan area. The skill and training of his team was nothing short of world-class. And he should know.

Carter had been their commanding officer for years before entering the private sector.

"I'm only sorry that we're here under such tragic circumstances. Please know that you have the deepest condolences of everyone at Macmillan Security."

Carter had been watching the reports over the internet about the congressman's Chief of Staff being killed by a car bomb when the call from the congressman's office had come in. He understood the man's fear. There was no way that Carter was about to allow Fuller, his staff, or any of his donors to be put at risk just because the request had come in with short notice.

"That is appreciated," Congressman Fuller said, giving Carter a practiced smile. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't certain that we should proceed with tonight's fundraiser after the events of the day. But Lucas was adamant that to change the schedule would allow the people who killed poor Harvey to win."

"I understand, sir," Carter said with a nod. "And I assure you that my team will do everything in our power to make sure that the event runs smoothly."

"Though you do understand that your team's position here tonight is purely supplemental?" Lucas Addams asked. "Congressman Fuller's private security team will be taking the lead. You're only here tonight as an extra set of eyes."

Carter turned to face Fuller's aide. There was something about the sharp-nosed man he didn't trust. Something that went beyond the usual duplicitous nature Carter expected from a man who'd made his career in politics.

"I understand that you hired us to keep the people at this fundraiser safe tonight," Carter said, meeting Lucas' direct gaze. "And, I assure you, it's a job my team and I take very seriously."

Lucas' eyes narrowed slightly. It was obvious that he didn't like Carter's answer.

Too damned bad. He'd been hired to do a job and he intended to do it. Besides, Carter knew none of his men would ever tolerate being second string.

Congressman Fuller clapped him on the shoulder and gave him another wide, camera-worthy smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension between Carter and his aide. "Then for all our sakes, let's hope that it turns out to be an uneventful night."

"Of course, sir," Carter said with a nod as the congressman started to walk away.

It was a nice enough sentiment but, in Carter's experience, people rarely hired his security firm because they truly believed that life would run smoothly.

Carter watched Lucas Addams follow a step behind his boss as the congressman started to make his way through the room. He tried not to read too much into the cold feeling of wariness for the man that had taken root in his gut.

As soon as they disappeared into the fashionable crowd Carter eased his stance, attempting to blend into his surroundings. He leaned his hip against the wall at his side, casually blocking the door behind him. Between Rhys and Jake at the front door, and him at the door that led to the back stairwell, they had all the major entrances and exits covered.

No one was getting in or out of this building without Carter knowing about it.

He was just starting to relax when he felt a tickle of awareness along the back of his neck. His gaze snapped to the center of the crowd and, sure enough, he found someone staring at him.

A very interesting someone.

Carter tilted his head to the side, studying the lovely stranger standing a good thirty feet in front of him. Her black dress was elegant and understated, the shimmery material cascading all the way down to the floor. Her reddish-brown hair was swept up and back from her face, showing off her full red lips and the cute little dimple in her chin. At first glance, anyone could be forgiven for mistaking her for any of the other high society donors.

But Carter Macmillan wasn't just anyone.

After another second of assessing him, she started walking straight toward him. And with every step she took, Carter became more certain that she wasn't on the guest list.

Judging by the angle of her hips and the relaxed motion of her stride, Carter could tell she wasn't wearing heels. In fact, he was betting if the hem of her dress swung out far enough he'd catch a glimpse of running shoes on her feet.

Whoever this woman was, she was ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

And it wasn't just her choice of footwear that gave her away. Her gown might fit her well, but it was most certainly purchased off the rack, and some time ago if the slight fraying along the shoulder strap was any indication.

Then there was her hair. As she closed the distance between them, a dozen or so bobby pins pushed haphazardly into her crown gleamed in the overhead lights. It was obviously a rushed job.

Carter was just squaring his shoulders, getting ready to demand that she reveal what she was doing there, but the woman beat him to the punch.

"I will give you fifty dollars to have a drink with me," she said, tucking herself into the small space between him and the wall.

Carter blinked. Out of everything in the world, that was the last thing that he expected to come out of her mouth.

"Excuse me?" he said, cocking his head to the side.

"Fifty bucks," she repeated. She glanced nervously over her shoulder and into the crowd. "Just to stand by me for the next couple of minutes and sip on some champagne."

"That's what I thought you said."

"So do we have a deal?" she asked, turning her attention back to him.

Carter found himself staring down into a pair of desperate blue eyes. Desperate, and frightened. He'd looked into the eyes of a lot of killers in his life, enough to be pretty damned sure that he wasn't staring down at the face of a car bomber right now.

Not that that changed anything. This woman might not be a threat, but she still wasn't supposed to be here.

But Carter didn't think he was going to find out what was going on by tossing her back out on the street. She was definitely scared of something, and right now he figured the best way of finding out what, was by playing along.

"As much as I'd love to take you up on that offer, the drinks are complimentary," he said, playing dumb.

"Yeah, I know." She flashed him a tight smile before tilting her chin down, hiding her face from the rest of the crowd. "It's the company I'm interested in."

Carter propped his shoulder against the wall. The move had the dual purpose of granting her more cover as well as keeping her within arm's reach.

"And why's that?" he asked.

She didn't lift her head, only her eyes moved to meet his gaze. "Because I've got two of the scariest-looking security guards you've ever seen on my tail. One is massive and the other one looks like he could freeze water just by looking at it."

Carter fought back the smile that pulled at his lips. He recognized those descriptions well. His two men at the front door, Jake Thorne and Rhys Vaughn. Her assessment of the pair was dead on.

What was hard to believe was that she'd managed to slip past the pair. It wasn't an easy feat.

"All right," Carter said, nodding slowly. "There's only one problem. We don't have any drinks."

As if on cue, she pivoted on her heel and snatched a couple of glasses from a passing waiter.

"Easily solved," she said, handing him his glass.

Carter spun the stem of the champagne flute between his fingers, but didn't take a sip. "So, I take it you aren't supposed to be here."

"Nope," she said before taking a giant swig of the bubbly. Whatever it was she was planning, it appeared her courage needed a boost. Her eyes widened in surprise, as though she wasn't used to tasting the good stuff. "I wasn't exactly on the guest list."

"So why come to me for help?"

"Lots of reasons," she said, looking him up and down in open assessment. "You're alone, but you don't look like you're waiting for someone. You aren't already drinking, so chances are you would be sober and wouldn't immediately get all handsy when I propositioned you."

"Thank you...I think."

"But most of all, you have a look about you."

"A look?" Carter cocked a brow.

"You know," she said, tracing his silhouette with a wave of her hand. "Authority. The way you're dressed, the way you hold yourself, you obviously have a lot of power, but you don't need to flaunt it. You don't seem like the kind of man people mess with."

"People like security guards?"

"Exactly," she said, with a tip of her glass.

"But it appears I'm not totally unapproachable," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Especially not by party crashers."

A slight blush rose on her cheeks as she gave him a self-conscious half smile. "I promise, I won't keep you for long. Five minutes, tops."

"What a shame," he said.

For a brief moment, a twinkle of amusement sparkled in her eyes. A second later she shook it off, and the look of apprehension rushed right back.

"Think of it this way," she said. "You'll have one hell of a story to tell in the boardroom come Monday morning."

A smile curled the corner of Carter's lip. So, that was how she read him—a high-powered CEO. Well, she wasn't technically wrong. Not that he was about to fill in the details for her. Not yet, anyway.

"And you?" he asked. "Is this just another day at the office?"

For the first time, she hesitated. Her face paled, as if his words had shaken her out of the pleasant flirting they'd been engaged in and back to the real reason she was here. "I know it's hard to believe, but this isn't how I usually spend my Friday nights."

"I see," Carter said, even though he didn't. When he'd seen her making a beeline for him across the room he'd expected a stream of lies to come pouring from her lips, maybe a sob story, anything but the bald truth. But it seemed like there were limits to how much his intriguing companion was willing to share. Maybe the time had come to test those limits. "So, do I get to know your name?"

"Probably not a good idea." She took a small sip of her champagne.

"So, I'm guessing that I'm not going to get the story of why you're running from the security guards?"

Her gaze flashed up at him. The look in her eyes was easy to read.

_What do you think?_

"Maybe just a little clue," he teased.

"Trust me, the less you know, the better off you are," she said cryptically. "But I swear, I have a really good reason."

Turned out, _good reasons_ , weren't good enough for him.

"Are you planning on hurting someone?" Carter asked, trying to keep his voice light.

"What?" Her face shot up. Her eyes went wide. "No. Of course not."

Carter studied her. She was shocked, appalled at the very idea that he would ask such a thing.

So if she wasn't here because of the threats to Congressman Fuller's life, then why _was_ she here?

Carter could think of half a dozen ways he could make her talk, just off the top of his head. The most efficient, of course, would be handing her over to Rhys and letting him go to work on her. Five minutes alone with the best interrogator to come out of Army Special Forces, and Carter had no doubt his mysterious little bird would sing to the rafters.

Rhys might be damned effective in getting information out of hostiles, but his methods could be...harsh. And somehow, the image of the charming woman in front of him forced down in a chair, trembling in front of Carter's stony-faced man, wasn't sitting well in his gut. It was obvious that she was scared enough as it was. He had a feeling that heaping even more fear on top wasn't going to help.

No, Carter could figure out what she was up to on his own, without threats or intimidation. He was pretty sure that he knew another set of tactics that would prove far more effective.

He wasn't above using her attraction to him to his advantage.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend," he said, slowly offering her his hand. "I'm Carter."

"It's a pleasure," she said, taking it. A rush of pink lit up her cheeks at the deliberate way he curled his fingers around her palm. Her touch was warm and surprisingly soft. He didn't pull away and neither did she.

Maybe this was going to work better than he thought.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me your name?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Her eyes locked with his. Her tongue flicked out to wet her full bottom lip.

"I'm—"

Her bright blue eyes darted away from his, focusing sharply on something just behind him and shattering the moment. All the color drained from her face as she ducked her head.

"There's another twenty in it for you if you put your arm around me right now," she blurted out.

He swiveled around to see what had spooked her, just in time to see his man, Jake, breaking through the crowd. Rhys wasn't far behind.

Carter couldn't blame the woman for her reaction. There probably wasn't a more intimidating pair on the planet. Of course, that was only half the reason he kept them on the payroll. They might be damned useful, but, after everything they'd been through together, these men were his family.

"Are those the guys that are after you?" he said, tilting his head in their direction.

"Yeah." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I thought you said they were scary." Carter turned toward Jake and Rhys. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Jake stopped short at Carter's impersonal greeting and high-handed tone. His brows pulled down into a deep V above his eyes.

"Yeah, there is," Jake said slowly. "That woman is—"

"Is not a problem," Carter finished for him.

Rhys gave him a long look, his ice blue eyes narrowing. "You sure about that, because she—"

"Isn't on the list? I know. The lady is with me, boys."

" _Boys_?" Jake said. His jaw tightened as he took a step forward. Carter knew Jake wasn't used to being talked down to and, by the looks of it, he didn't like it one bit. Not by his boss. Maybe, _especially_ , by his boss.

Rhys put his hand on Jake's shoulder, stilling him. Jake turned his head. He caught Rhys' pointed look and his stance relaxed a little...a very little.

"Sorry about the misunderstanding, sir," Rhys said. "It looks like you have this situation under control."

"I do," Carter said.

"Yeah, our _deepest_ apologies," Jake said, giving Carter a belligerent smile as Rhys slowly pulled him back into the crowd. " _Sir_."

Carter turned around to find his mystery woman staring at him with narrowed eyes. The left side of her mouth was quirked up at an angle that said that she didn't quite believe what had just happened...and not in the good way.

"You chased them off?" she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

"I guess I did."

"Just by telling them that I was with you?"

"Like you said, I'm not the kind of person people want to mess with."

"Yeah," she said, drawing out the word. She swept him up and down with a critical gaze, as if she was completely re-examining him.

So, maybe he'd laid it on a little too thick. But that was all right. He could recover. It couldn't be too hard to regain her trust.

"Where were we?" Carter cocked his shoulder against the wall and gave her his best bedroom smile, the one that had slipped more than a couple of secrets from the lips of beautiful women around the globe. He lazily raised his hand to tuck a stray hair that had come loose behind her ear. "That's right. You were about to tell me your name."

She handed him her empty glass. "I really should be going."

Okay. Maybe it was going to take a little more damage control than he first thought.

"Why would you want to do that?" he whispered.

She looked over his shoulder again. Her eyes went wide. "Because your friends are coming back."

Carter spun around. He scanned the crowd for Jake and Rhys, but they weren't there.

His shoulders fell as he heard the soft sound of the metal door that led to the back stairwell clicking closed behind him.

He turned around and looked at the empty space by the wall.

She was gone.

She'd bolted. Just like he'd known that she would.

Correction—she'd played him and then she'd bolted. Just like she'd done to Rhys and Jake. Not a good night for Macmillan Security.

Though somehow, Carter felt a wave of admiration toward the woman who'd given him the slip. It was a rare creature that could elude one ex-Special Forces operative, let alone three. Of course, that only made him more determined to find her and figure out exactly who she was and what she was up to.

* * *

Keep Reading Carter Now!

# About the Author

Adrienne Bell lives on the far edge of the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and kids. She spends her working days writing and reading, and most her downtime watching comic book themed television or scrolling through Disneyland fan websites. You can follow the minutia of her life or see what she's working on next on all kinds of social media sites. Oh, and she thanks you for reading.

    @writerbell

    adriennebellauthor

www.adriennebell.net

writerbell@icloud.com
