Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,11

had been tilted just enough to let the late-afternoon sunshine spill in and dance across the glossy floor. He glanced into the bathroom. Big shower, plenty of towels and one of those stupid sinks that sat on the counter.

He hadn’t been in a room this nice since...hell, since he and Meg had celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary on Mackinaw Island in Michigan. They’d made the reservation at the Grand Hotel and had joked that this time, they would manage to see the island, something they hadn’t accomplished on their honeymoon when their focus had been on indoor activities.

They’d been wrong. The bike shorts had never even come out of the suitcase. And most of the meals had been delivered by room service. Cruz had gone back to work a very happy man.

He’d never dreamed that it would all fall apart a year later. He looked at Meg, wondering if she was remembering. But her face was blank and she was looking at her watch.

He crossed the room, checked to make sure the slider had a safety bar at the bottom, and then stepped toward the door that connected the two rooms. He flipped the bolt. “Keep this unlocked,” he said. She nodded, still clearly not happy that he was staying.

Tough. She’d probably be unhappier if she were dead.

He didn’t intend to let the son of a bitch who’d trashed her car and apartment anywhere near her. He might not have Slater’s ability to kiss corporate ass but he was good at his job. Really good. He would keep her safe. And he would make sure that the person responsible for terrorizing her and putting the fear into her eyes was strung up and left swinging in the wind.

His room was an exact duplicate of hers. He took just a minute to crank up the air-conditioning and grab a clean T-shirt from his bag. He stepped into the bathroom, splashed water on his face, shucked off one shirt and pulled on another. All the while, he listened for the door. He wasn’t concerned about someone trying to get in but he thought she might make a break for it.

But when he walked through the connecting door, she was still standing in the middle of the room. “Really, Cruz,” she said. “This isn’t necessary. It’s just down the street. You should unpack, get some rest.”

He didn’t bother to answer—just motioned for her to follow him. They walked down the short hallway to the elevators in silence. Ten floors down, they exited the hotel at street level, on the other side of the River Walk. It was a different world. There were no lush walkways or meandering tourists. The sidewalk was a mile of white cement and the trees along it offered little shade from the late-afternoon sun that was still mercilessly hot. Buses rumbled by, belching exhaust, picking up locals, delivering them either to or from work.

Cruz fell into step next to Meg. He looked around but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them.

The dry cleaner was a small Asian woman who greeted Meg warmly and looked at him with unguarded speculation. Meg didn’t introduce him. She simply paid the bill and Cruz swung the heavy plastic bags over one arm, keeping one hand free. He had his gun tucked into the small of his back and he wanted to be able to get to it quickly.

He thought they would head back to the hotel but Meg turned the opposite direction. “I need a few more things,” she said.

Half a block later, she pushed open the door of a lingerie store. High counters with partitions every couple of feet captured a sea of silk and lace. Bras. Panties. Holy crap, garter belts.

The dry cleaning bag brushed against a rack of nightgowns that rippled in response. He overcorrected and his other elbow knocked against a mannequin, wearing a little bit of nothing that would make a grown man beg. He grabbed a breast and managed to get it righted before it fell over.

He felt like a bull in a china shop but it was all worth it when Meg, for the first time since he’d knocked on her office door, smiled at him. “Asking for her number?” she mocked.

“Funny,” he said. Meg had always loved pretty underwear. And he’d loved seeing her in it. Buying it for her. The private modeling sessions that followed.

He could hear the air-conditioning going full blast but his neck felt hot. The store was full of