“It’s not,” I say punching the elevator call button. “Elevators are recorded,” I add.
The car opens, and we step inside. The bellman catches up with us, promising to meet us on our floor. He arrives at the eighth floor with us. Once we’re there, he helps Lori with her bags first and she disappears inside her room. I deal with him, and my bags, tip him, and then wait until he’s gone to dial Royce. “Walk me through checking for cameras and bugs.”
“What room?”
“Two rooms.” I give him the numbers.
“I’ll send someone to check them out when you’re gone, but for now do this. No internet in your room. Stay off it and that includes your phone. Unplug everything. Obviously look for wires and visible signs of a bug or camera. Hold private conversations outside, not inside. Any common area could be bugged.” He has me download several apps to use in the rooms to aid my efforts. By the time we’re done, I’m cursing.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “I should have had the sense to grab a private rental.”
“One of my men there in LA will have a spare room if you want it.”
I think of Lori's comfort and rule that out. “I need to be here with my client,” I say, “but thanks, man.” We disconnect, and I walk to Lori’s door and knock.
She opens the door already in her bare feet, her toes painted pink. I grab her and pull her close, whispering in her ear, “Walker is going to check our rooms for bugs when we’re gone. For now, I’m going to do what I can.” I lean back, and her eyes are wide, but she nods and backs into the room.
I start my sweep using the apps I’ve been assigned, and Lori follows me, checking behind me. We come up empty, which isn’t much of a relief since we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. There are no cameras though, at least not in the bathroom. Of that I’m certain. I even checked the shower head.
I glance at my watch. “It’s seven,” I say. “Let’s meet up in an hour to talk through the case before our nine o’clock with Tara.”
“Sounds good,” Lori says, and for reasons I cannot explain, her pink painted toenails are distracting me and I now have a hard on. Fuck, what is it about this woman that her damn pink toes can turn me on?
I motion to the bathroom where I know we’re clear, and we step inside, but for safe measure, I pull her close, my hands on her hips, and I speak near her ear. “Undress and redress in here. Nowhere else.”
“Do you really think we’re being bugged?”
I pull back to look at her. “If they’re watching us, they could be listening to us.” I press my cheek to hers again, my hand sliding up her back to settle between her shoulder blades. “And just so you know,” I say softly, “every moment that you catch me looking at you, I’m thinking about touching you. Most likely, I’m thinking of you lying across my lap, your pretty, naked ass in the air, and how much I want to spank you again.”
She sucks in a breath that I catch with a kiss, before I say, “I’ll see you in an hour,” and exit the bathroom and then the room. I hate fucking leaving her in that room alone. I enter mine, clear the room as I had hers, and then walk to the end of the hallway and call Ashley.
“How are things, boss?”
“Interesting,” I say. “What’s your exact ETA?”
“It could be three weeks. I have to deal with personal matters, but I can manage a part-time load.”
“I won’t argue. As you know, I’m mentoring Lori Havens, a Stanford law student, who I plan to bring on full time with the firm. Call Stanford and find out how the hell I can get Lori her degree in no more than six months.”
“All right. What do I need to know about her?”
“Nothing you don’t ask her yourself when you get your ass back to work, outside of how to get her through law school in six months.”
“Interesting,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet Lori Havens.” I can hear the damn smile on her face. I hang up and walk past Lori’s room to get to mine and I do so with a vow: Six months from now, we will not be hiding. She will have her degree, she will see herself as the equal I already know her to be, and the world will know that she is mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Cole
I don’t turn my phone off. That’s simply not an option, but neither is me doing or saying anything in this room worth watching or hearing. I decide I should have turned it off when I’ve barely stepped out of the shower, and Tara sends me a text: Should I just come to your room? “No, you should not just fucking come to my room,” I murmur before I text reply with: I’ll tell you where to meet me when I’ve acquired a secure location. More soon.
It’s then that I realize there is no place in this hotel that I trust to be secure enough to have a private conversation with my extremely famous client. I dial Royce again. “Is the ex-SEAL I dealt with here in LA still running this office?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Aside from him doing damn good work on the Jerome Knight case, I need him to let me use your local offices here to question Tara Knight.”
“Hell, no, you cannot bring that press bomb to my LA office. I can just see the hell that would unfold, and land me on a plane to LA when I should be right here, in New York City with my newborn child and my wife.”
“Right. Understood. Tara’s here at the hotel for that very reason. Her home is a nightmare of press, but I’m also dealing with an uncontrolled environment.”
“She’ll have security that should be able to clear a room for you to meet,” he says, and then seems to think out loud, “but of course, if I were you, I wouldn’t trust anyone but me. I’ll have Adam, or someone on his team come to you now and clear your room. Get a new room that hasn’t been reserved for you. That lowers the odds of a bug.”
“Will do,” I say. “I’ll text you the details.”
“In the meantime, I’ll get Adam moving.”
“Can you record the session?” I ask.
“Yes.”
We disconnect, and I call the front desk, rent a suite with a living area, arrange entry for Adam, and then text the room number to Royce. Next, I punch in Lori’s number, which goes to voicemail as it should. I told her to turn the damn thing off. I decide to just meet her in the hallway and we’ll go eat breakfast.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve arranged for Adam to be given a key to the room, tipped well to have my key delivered to me, and I finally knot the navy pinstriped tie that I’m wearing today. I pull on the jacket that completes the three-piece ensemble, grab my briefcase, and head to the hallway, where I knock on Lori’s door.
She opens it immediately, her hair knotted at the back of her head, and I’m damn certain that the only thing that would hug her body better than the light blue suit dress she has on is my body. “Hi,” she says sweetly, almost shyly, her green eyes warm.
“Damn, woman,” I murmur, hard as fuck with no fuck in sight. “You really are beautiful.” I press my hand to the doorframe before I touch her. “Do you have any idea how much it’s going to destroy me to keep my hands to myself for nine fucking months?”
“Only in public and as you’ve already proven when you think no one is looking.”
I arch a brow. “Your point?”
“Only that I doubt it will be nine months.”
“Meaning what?” I ask.
“Nine months is a long time, Cole,” she says, her hand pressing on the wall opposite mine.
“You think this will fizzle out,” I say and it’s not a question. “You’re wrong, but that’s okay. You told me you’d expect the worst, and as long as we’ll be glad when I’m right this time all is well.”
“Yes,” she says softly. “It’s okay if you’re right and I’m wrong this time.”
“Good,” I say, and fuck, why am I looking at her mouth. I can’t kiss her. Not here. Not now. “I managed to get a suite for the interview, and the Walker Security team is securing it. The meeting with Tara is at ten now. Let’s go on up and order breakfast. I’m f
ucking starving, and since you’re not on the menu, at least right now, I’ll take bacon.”
“Me or bacon,” she laughs that soft, sexy musical laugh of hers that wreaks havoc on my willpower. “Glad to know I’m ahead of bacon,” she says. “Let me grab my purse and briefcase.” She steps back into the room and I catch the door, watching her enter the bedroom, that damn dress hugging her cute little ass that is presently off limits, before she turns back and walks toward me. I savor every damn step until she stops in front of me, close enough for me to inhale that floral scent she wears. I back up to allow her to exit before I end up inside with her. I punch the elevator button and we stand side-by-side, staring at the doors.
“Considering my preferred method of undressing you is temporarily off limits,” I say, without looking at her, “you’re going to have to tell me what’s under that dress.”
“I’m running short on panties,” she says, glancing over at me at the same moment I look at her. “Who says I have anything under it?”
“Don’t challenge me to break the rules,” I warn, turned the fuck on by this part of her that loves to challenge me.
“You’ll have to use your imagination, boss.”
My phone buzzes with a text message from Royce: My man is already in your room.
I text him a quick confirmation and then say, “Detour. We’re headed to a private suite that’s being cleared for our talk with Tara.”
“What about your bacon?”
“I’m getting my damn bacon,” I assure her. “We’ll order room service.”
The elevator dings, and we enter to find we’re not alone, and in fact we’re forced to squeeze into a corner. That pushes Lori’s body up against mine, and my hand settles on her lower back. It’s not a decision, but rather nature. I’ve never felt that with any other woman.
We’re the first to exit the car and I make sure I’m not touching Lori when we do. The suite is to our right and down a private walkway. I wave the keycard in front of the door and offer the second key to Lori. “Isn’t us in a hotel room a problem?” she asks.
“We’re doing our jobs, sweetheart.” I shove the door open. “And we’re not alone. One of the Walker staff is here.” Lori enters the room and I follow to find we’re now standing inside a living room wrapped with windows, complete with two couches facing each other, a television to the left and a desk to the right.
“Hello,” I call out, and only a few beats later, a familiar thirty-something man, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, appears from down a hallway to join us.
“Cole Brooks,” he says, his dark, wavy hair a wayward mess, while nothing else about this man is even close to a mess. “Good to see you man,” he adds, glancing at Lori. “I’m Adam, ma’am.”
“Lori Havens,” Lori says. “I’m Cole’s—”
“Associate,” I supply for his benefit before she calls herself an intern. And then to her, “Adam’s some sort of badass ex-Navy SEAL,” I say. “He did leg work on Jerome Knight’s case for me, and fuck, I haven’t called Jerome.” I glance at Adam. “Are we ready?”
“I setup an interview room and camera in the dining room.” He motions to the hallway to his left.
I glance at Lori. “Can you make sure we’re good while I call Jerome?”
“Of course,” she says, hurrying toward Adam.
I pull out my phone and punch in Jerome’s number. He skips the greeting and goes straight to, “What the hell is going on, Cole?”
“I don’t know enough to answer that with any level of confidence or accuracy, but I need to know one thing from you. You also know how I feel about talking on the phone.”
“What do I do?”
“Stay where you are until I tell you otherwise,” I instruct. “They’re going to try to pit her against you or trade her for you. I need to know where you stand.”
“Am I going to admit to something I didn’t do because my daughter made another one of her fucked up mistakes?” he asks. “No. I will not.”
“Can she hurt you?”
“I’ve done nothing illegal ever in my entire life. You know this, and it hasn’t changed. Feel free to work whatever angle you want with confidence, and yes, I’ll send you a check for billable hours.”
“I’ll handle it,” I assure him.
He hesitates a full beat. “She’s my daughter. We don’t always agree on things, but I don’t want her to go to jail.”
In other words, don’t bury her to save him. “Understood. I’ll be in touch.”
I disconnect and text Tara the room number and a time for the meeting. She replies back almost instantly: See you then. With that meeting set, I cross the room, and walk down the hall toward the dining area. I manage to enter the separate room just in time to find Lori standing with Adam, who is showing her how to work the camera and judging from the look on Adam’s face, he has discovered how good she smells. Bastard, who better be glad I get it, she does smell good, and she’s hard not to notice, but that doesn’t mean I expect him to keep noticing. He looks up, and I arch a brow that gets the message across. He laughs and holds up his hands, taking an exaggerated step away from Lori. “We’re ready for the diva when you are,” he says.
Lori looks up at me, her intelligent green eyes narrowing as if she knows something just happened, but she isn’t sure what. I glance at my watch. “It’s nine now. I’ve set Tara’s arrival for ten, because if I don’t eat before I deal with her, I might refuse to represent her before we even get to the police station, which won’t serve her father well.” I walk to the phone on the credenza by the wall and pick up the handset. “What do you want, Lori?”
“Coffee. And I don’t know—croissants? That’s easy, right?”
“Is there a reasons Jerome needs counsel?” Adam asks, ignoring our conversation about food.
“Not at present, but he just hired me to make sure that doesn’t change.”
“Room service,” a woman says into my ear.
“Croissants. Lots of them. Coffee for two. Cream.” I glance at Lori remembering her order on the plane. “Lots of Splenda.” She smiles, and I add, “Bacon. Random pastries. All as soon as possible with a good tip attached if soon is soon enough.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
“That will do it.” I hang up and answer Adam’s question. “Jerome Knight says that if they try to use his daughter against him, they will fail. There is nothing dirty to find and he won’t lie to protect her.” I look at Lori. “There’s tension between the two of them, which means we need a good handle on where that’s leading before we walk into the police station later today.”
“Where is her mother in all of this?” Lori asks. “Is she a problem?”
“She hates Jerome,” I say, impressed with the question many wouldn’t ask, which would be a mistake. “A money dispute in the divorce, but she’s been out of his life too long to be a problem.”
Adam chimes in then. “Royce has his brother back in New York City working on this, and let me tell you, Blake is one of the best of the best at electronic tracking and hacking. If there’s something to be found, he’ll find it and fast. For my part, I’m done here, and I’m headed downstairs to clear your rooms. I’ll let you know if I find any devices.”
“Don’t you need our keys?” I ask.
This time Adam arches a brow at me. “Would it make you feel better if I said I did?”
“It would me,” Lori says. “If you can get into our rooms on your own, anyone can get in. How do we know new bugs won’t be put in the room once you leave?”
“You don’t,” Adam says. “Not unless you hire us to make sure they don’t.”
This is exactly why I didn’t want Lori to stay. “We’re going to leave tonight if we can,” I say. “If that changes, I’ll let you know.”
Adam gives me a two-finger wave. “Later, man.” He exits the room and I stand there a few beats, then follow. I catch him before he turns the corner. “Ad
am.”
He turns to face me. “What’s up?”
“I will double the Walker fee if your team gets me something on this detective to shut this down before tomorrow at noon.”
“You don’t need to pay us double to shut down a dirty cop,” Adam says, before he turns and leaves.
I rotate and find Lori waiting on me in the doorway to the dining room. “We’re leaving tonight?”
I walk to stand in front of her. “If I get my way, this will be a lesson in how to shut down bullshit and move on to what you really want. And what I want is you out of the line of fire and back in New York in my bed.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Lori
Cole and I sit side-by-side at the desk of the hotel suite’s office reviewing our questions for Tara Knight while stuffing our faces with croissants, bacon and coffee. What I notice about Cole during this encounter, and really all of our work interactions, is how eager he is for debate. He doesn’t want agreement, which is a good thing because on several points we don’t agree.
“I think you should ask her about her mother,” I say.
“Asking about her mother was smart,” he replies. “But ultimately at this stage of the game, the mother is wasted energy. She has nothing to do with this. We need to expend energy on what matters.”
“A mother is a key figure in anyone’s life,” I agree. “She’s feeding something into her daughter’s head and that will influence her behavior, especially as it relates to her ex-husband who is Tara’s father.”
“We don’t know how close she is to her mother.”
“We should,” I argue. “You are the one who told me that the things I’ve been through in my life give me an edge. Mothers influence daughters, and anger at a father influences a daughter. I’m your prime example.” I breathe out. “He affects me.”
The way his eyes narrow I can read his thoughts, and I know that he won’t speak them, not now, not in the middle of a word debate. He, my father, he affects us, too. “The point is that the mother is always relevant. Was she an issue at all during Jerome’s problems?”