Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,32

imagine I won’t have to worry about being next year’s keynote speaker,” Meg said. She was working hard to keep it light but Cruz knew her too well. She was shook.

“Do any of you know him?” Cruz asked.

Meg, Slater and Charlotte all shook their heads. Slater put his hand on Meg’s arm. Cruz balled his fist, desperately wanting to knock him back a step.

“I sure hope this ends all the craziness,” Slater said. “He’s got to be the guy behind the letters and the damage to your car and your apartment.”

“I imagine he is,” Meg said. “I mean, how many people could hate me?” She smiled, still trying to keep the mood light.

“Charlotte mentioned getting a nightcap. Can you join us?” Slater asked.

“I’m sure the police are going to want to talk to her,” Charlotte said. “She can’t just go running out of here.”

Charlotte was right. But it wasn’t as if Meg was the type to run away from her responsibilities.

Meg didn’t seem to take offense, however. “You’re right, Charlotte,” she said. “Please, go without me. Who knows how long this will take?”

* * *

IT TOOK ANOTHER ninety minutes. By the time Meg finished giving the police her statement, the waitstaff had gone home. The tables were completely stripped with the exception of a few rogue salt shakers. Dirty linens were piled in one corner of the room and chairs stacked in the other.

They’d had question after question but she hadn’t been able to tell them much. All she could remember was the panic. Hers. When she’d heard Cruz’s shout to get back, she’d turned her head, only to see him jump up onto the table to face a knife-wielding maniac.

He hadn’t hesitated. Not for a second.

He’d saved her life. And maybe others, too.

“Thank you,” she said. It was inadequate but she felt compelled to say something once they finally got cleared to go. They waited for the elevator. It was the first time they’d been alone since the event had occurred.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was hoping this was over.”

“Me, too.” The enormity of the situation had hit her hard about fifteen minutes earlier when Detective Myers, who had been called in, had confided that they weren’t confident that the attacker had anything to do with the threats she’d received or the damage to her car or house. The attacker had denied it and seemed to have an alibi that would hold up.

Myers had explained that the man had hidden in the hotel for hours and during the confusion of everyone entering the ballroom, had come in through a side door. He’d taken a seat at a table that had an open chair and acted as if he had every right to be there.

Cruz had listened to the detective’s explanation and his jaw had gotten so tight that she was surprised it hadn’t cracked. Now, he simply looked as if he were simmering, about to boil over.

“Want to get a drink?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. She understood. She hadn’t exactly been extending the olive branch lately. But the very last thing she wanted was to go back to her hotel room and go to bed, only to stare at the white ceiling and think about all of this for one more minute.

She wanted to forget it. Forget everything. Just forget. “This hotel has a nice bar in the lower level.”

“I guess I wouldn’t turn down a beer.”

Five minutes later, they slid into a corner booth. The room was dark, a little noisy, offering just the right insulation from the rest of the world. She considered the wine list but ordered a margarita instead. It came in a pretty glass with salt on the rim and tasted so good. When she ordered her second, Cruz asked for some chips and salsa, too.

Five minutes later, he pushed the chip bowl toward her and pulled her drink away. “You might want to slow down a little,” he said. She shook her head, reached for her drink and took another big swallow.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really,” she said. Now she did reach for the chips. He couldn’t expect her to spill her guts if her mouth was full. If she didn’t want to think about it, then she sure as heck didn’t want to talk about it.

The salsa was gone and almost all the chips by the time the waitress swung back around for the third time. Meg pointed to her glass and smiled.

“We ought to go,” Cruz said.

The