Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,31

Now, a touch, his touch, would just throw her off her stride.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to be here. It has been my privilege to partner with A Hand Up to give hardworking individuals an opportunity for a better future. I first became...”

Her voice was strong, confident, and he could see people in the audience responding. Phones got put down, side conversations ceased, people listened.

“...and while I hope that the program participants benefited, I know with great certainly that BJM Hotels is better for having had the opportunity to work with these four individuals. Michael worked in our purchasing department and he...”

Cruz heard the scrape of a nearby chair. He turned his head slightly and from the left side of the room, a man was running toward the stage, his eyes fixated on Meg. He was young, white and had one arm raised, like an Olympic torch bearer.

There was no torch, no flame—just the glint of a steel blade from a dangerous-looking knife.

Chapter Eight

Cruz shoved his chair aside. “Get back,” he yelled at Meg. He jumped up onto the table, sending dishes and glasses flying, and leapt toward the man who was less than ten feet away.

He knocked the man to the ground, they rolled, and in seconds, Cruz had the idiot facedown, spread-eagle, with the knife safely secured under the heel of his shoe.

People were screaming, running from the room. He ignored it all. Just turned his head to make sure that Meg was okay.

She was back at the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen. Please return to your seats. For the safety of everyone, sit down and remain calm. There is no danger. Everything is fine.”

Her voice was not as steady as before but it did the trick. People stopped screaming. They sat down. Order resumed.

Two male security officers arrived, looking slightly green. Cruz figured they probably hadn’t had much experience handling knife-wielding maniacs.

Fortunately or unfortunately for him, he’d had his share of experience. But never before had he been so absolutely terrified. He’d looked into the man’s eyes, realized Meg was the intended target and his heart had about stopped.

“Police are on the way,” the younger security officer said.

“Thank you,” said the other. “This could have been bad.”

It could have been horrific. He could have lost Meg forever.

Four San Antonio police officers arrived. Cruz identified himself, gave a brief recap of what had happened and stepped back, grateful to let them take over. He wanted to stand next to Meg, smell her rich scent, hear her sweet laugh.

But that was going to have to wait. Meg, always the consummate professional, asked the police if she could give her statement once the program was concluded. The cops agreed. So after bagging the knife, they quietly escorted the man from the room. Cruz saw one of the officers pause at the table where the man had been sitting and exchange a few words before leaving the room. The door was barely closed behind them when Meg launched back into her speech. She kept it short but gave a brief description of the contributions from each of the four individuals from A Hand Up. Each man was asked to stand. Cruz noted that Oscar Warren didn’t even look in his direction.

Finally, there was applause and closing remarks from Beatrice Classen and the event was over.

It had been the longest ten minutes of his life, full of frustration. He desperately wanted five minutes alone with the attacker but knew the San Antonio police weren’t going to let that happen. Professional courtesy only got a person so far. They’d be crossing a line if they let him get too close to the investigation.

He wanted Meg away from the ugliness. Didn’t want her goodness soiled by the tediousness of what needed to happen next. The police would have questions, maybe even the press, depending on whether it was a slow news day or not.

The people at the attacker’s table remained seated. Cruz figured the cop had told them to hang out after the program ended. Even if the man had acted alone, he may have engaged in some dinner conversation that would help the police with their investigation.

The rest of the attendees were bookin’ it toward the doors at the rear. Unfortunately, Slater and Charlotte were swimming upstream, headed toward Meg.

“Gracious, Meg,” said Charlotte. “That was certainly unexpected.”

Cruz gave the woman a look. Her tone was almost chiding, like it was somehow Meg’s fault. But Meg didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, the good news is I