The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,36
shiny, silver one she’d showed him the other day.
He opened it. It had a heavy-duty casing…and a heavy-duty encryption on it.
His cell phone pinged and he pulled it out. It was a notification from the security system.
The downstairs window had just been opened.
Anger flared, but he banked it down. He jogged down the stairs. Quickly, he slipped out the front door and pulled out the second app showing the new camera feed.
He watched a slim figure in black dart through the former blind spot to the trees.
Fuck.
Rome signaled one of the guards, pressing a finger to his lips. “Keep watch,” Rome whispered. “There’s something I need to follow up.”
The guard nodded and Rome stuck to the shadows.
As he reached the street, he saw Sofie out on the sidewalk, a ball cap pulled low on her head. She was walking away from the house, totally relaxed. Like she was just out for an evening stroll. She had a black backpack slung over one shoulder.
Rome scowled. Where the hell was she going?
He jogged to his X6, bleeped the locks, and slid behind the wheel. As he pulled out onto the street, he hoped Sofie didn’t spot the vehicle. He drove slowly and saw her walk down a side street.
He pulled over, then nosed forward enough to spot her.
He saw her get into a blue Tesla.
What the hell?
Moments later, she pulled out onto the street ahead of him. A second later, Rome followed.
He was experienced at tailing people, and she didn’t notice him. When she pulled up at the imposing façade of the Ritz-Carlton hotel, he frowned.
He watched her hand her keys to the valet. Once she’d entered the lobby, Rome pulled in.
“Checking in, sir?” the uniformed valet asked.
“Yeah.” He handed over his keys and quickly strode into the hotel.
The lobby was opulent and modern. There was lots of shiny, veined marble and everything was decorated in shades of gray.
Rome scanned around. Crap, if he lost her…
There.
She was standing with some people at the elevators.
Rome circled around the lobby, moving closer, but staying out of her view. The elevator doors opened.
An old lady with a walking frame fumbled with her key card near the door to the elevator.
“Can I help you?” Sofia asked.
“Oh, that would be lovely, dear. I’m going to the top floor.”
“Me too.” Sofie helped the woman into the elevator.
Rome whirled and found the stairs. He broke into a run, taking them two at a time. Thankfully the Ritz-Carlton buildings only had a few stories. He reached the top floor, and cracked open the door.
Out in the corridor, he saw Sofie helping the old lady to her suite.
“You’re so kind,” the woman said. “Thank you.”
“Have a great night.” Once the lady closed her door, Sofie’s smile disappeared.
She scanned the empty hall, then Rome watched her stride to the housekeeping closet and pick the lock.
It appeared his princess was hiding some pretty interesting skills.
Moments later, she came out dressed in a housekeeping uniform, with a brown wig on, and pushing a cart. Cogs turned in his brain and a suspicion formed.
Rome ground his teeth together. He had no idea what she was up to, but he planned to find out.
Sofie had a lot of explaining to do.
He watched her knock on a suite door. “Housekeeping.”
Rome shot off the text to Ace.
Need to know who’s staying in the Presidential Suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
Sofie opened the door and disappeared inside.
Rome strode down the hall. His phone vibrated.
Boris Petrovich. Russian. Here for the gala.
Rome’s gut hardened. What the hell? This couldn’t be a lover’s meet-up, or otherwise there’d be no need for her housekeeping disguise. He pulled a card out of his wallet. It took a second to override the electronic lock and he slipped inside the suite.
It was silent.
Place was stylish, with gleaming, wooden floors, more shades of gray with a few touches of blue. There was a nice view of the Coit Tower out of the windows.
Rome turned left and followed the faint sounds down the hallway. He moved silently, and saw a door ajar. He pushed it open.
It was the master bedroom.
Sofie was crouched in front of an open safe, a sparkling tiara in one hand, and a small card in the other.
“Resting well, beautiful?”
Sofie’s head whipped around, blank shock on her face.
No. Oh, no.
Sofie squeezed her eyes shut, praying that Rome was just a figment of her imagination.
She opened her eyes.
No. He was still standing there, looking very pissed off.
He couldn’t be here. If he was caught…
“Rome, I—”
He strode across the