“What, don’t want to talk today?”
“Don’t call me anymore; I’ve already reported everything to the police.”
Clay was at her side in seconds and snatched the phone from her hand and opened his mouth to speak, when they heard, “They didn’t help last time and they won’t have any better luck now. ’Til Next Time,” and then the line went dead.
He stared at the phone and then slammed it back down on the receiver.
Angela jumped a mile, gasping as she almost lost her footing. Clay caught her arms to steady her. “Sorry.”
Her body shook so violently she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
“Angela, do you need to sit down?”
When she didn’t answer he pressed on, “Do you still want to go tonight?”
She let out a pent-up breath and closed her eyes.
She straightened up and released Clay’s arms and decided to grow a pair.
“I won’t let this person keep me from my life. I don’t want them to win and if I huddle in here like a scared animal, they’ve already done just that.”
“Damn straight,” Clay said with pride. He picked up her purse and handed it back to her. His fingers brushed hers for a moment, before he pulled them back.
“I wish I would have taken more time to check out the location we’re going to tonight.” He turned around and led her toward the stairs, but didn’t place his hands on her.
“There will be lots of people there, and security for the hotel, as well as a police presence. It’s the same for all of the benefit dinners.”
As they went downstairs, Angela grabbed the dress Maddy had laid out for her to take and she draped it over her arm.
“I’m not going to trust you with just anyone, Angela, so if you wouldn’t mind, let me lead tonight. Think you can handle that?” he asked behind a suave smile probably meant to comfort her. She felt that smile deep in her belly and at the top of her thighs that were still trembling.
He opened the door for her after checking immediately outside and she stepped into the cool night air. She probably should have grabbed a sweater, she thought as she turned to see Clay locking the door behind her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he walked up to her on the sidewalk.
“How strange this all is, I guess. I don’t like feeling afraid and I don’t want to have to rely on anyone else for my safety.” She looked up at him and he looked dangerous in the twilight. It seemed to highlight his scars and her fingers ached to smooth away the crease residing between his eyebrows.
“Angela, I know this isn’t the best situation for either of us, but let’s try to make the most of it.”
A snort escaped at the irony of her current predicament. She was in danger from God knows who, and they were threatening everything she held dear, and the one person she was having to rely on was the one person who hurt her the deepest.
“Agreed,” she said with a shaky breath.
“So do we need to get a taxi?” He led her toward the front street.
Angela looked at the slim silver watch on her wrist and said, “No, our driver should be here any moment, and before you frisk me again over not telling you about it, he’s been scheduled for weeks, and with everything else happening I honestly forgot to tell you about it.”
Clay was about to ask more about the driver they were waiting for, when Angela pointed to the side street and a long black limo pulled into view. “There he is now.”
“Full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”
Clay stared at the limo and then back to Angela, who had a smug smile pulling at her lips. He shook his head as the limo pulled up in front of them, and then opened and held the door for her.
She slid across the seat, watching Clay slide in next to her and shut the door.
“Hi, Ron,” she called from the backseat. “Nice to see you again,” she added, trying not to feel so claustrophobic with Clay sitting so close to her in a confined space.
“You as well, Ms. Meyers,” her driver said from the front seat.
“This is Clay Waters from C&C Security. He’ll be accompanying me to dinner tonight.”
They pulled back out into traffic and Angela could feel Clay staring at her. Her cheeks were already flushed, as she turned toward him. She stifled a caustic comment, when she saw him smiling at her. Despite her best effort not to like him, she found herself happy just seeing his smile.
“What are you smiling at, Mr. Waters?” she asked while trying to calm her heartbeat.
“You,” he answered simply.
“Why me, what did I do?”
“It’s just hard for me to see you as you are now. A highly sought-after designer, going to gala functions in limousines where you know the limo driver on a first-name basis. I still see you ratting me out when we were kids and I’d done something to make you mad, which was often. It’s just going to take me a little while to get caught up to today.”
Angela was glad it was dark in the limo. She knew how short-lived their little reunion was going to be, but didn’t bring it up.
She didn’t want to be Mark’s sister tonight. Not any longer.
“Well, Ron’s been my driver for three years now. Whenever I’m in the city and I’ve got events I have to attend, he’s always the one I call. He’s the best, aren’t you, Ron?”
“Only for you, Ms. Meyers,” Ron added as he wove expertly in and out of taxicabs galore.
She really did like Ron. He was older, about her father’s age, quiet and never pried into her business, and he was always polite and courteous to her. She never felt the need to fill silences. She could just think or plan while in the car. She felt safe while he drove and that meant a lot.
Angela prompted Ron, “How’s Joe doing? Still running you ragged?”
“Just fine. He told me to tell you hello, and that his wife loved the dress you sent her last Christmas.”
“Great, I knew she’d look beautiful in it. Joe is Ron’s business partner and best friend,” she added as an aside to Clay. “Joe does all the scheduling and Ron does most of the driving. They have several other drivers as well now. How many on last count?”
“Fourteen including myself, actually. Your word of mouth has gained us a huge number of clients.”
“Glad I could help out a little. Good drivers are hard to find in this city. I’m happy you were available for me tonight. It wouldn’t be the same if someone else drove me.”
“Who or what is this function for tonight?” Clay cut in, looking…jealous. No, that couldn’t be right.
“It’s a fundraiser for one of the local Relay for Life events here in New York. It raises money for cancer awareness and research. They’re having a dinner and live auction where celebrities,” she made the motion of quotation marks with her fingers, since she couldn’t honestly put herself in that category, “donate items to help raise money, and we take pictures with survivors and pose for the camera.”
She shrugged and added, “With how hectic everything can get, it’s nice to give back a little bit when I can. Puts the world into perspective, when things get…scary.”
Staring at Clay sitting across from her was hard. Only when they passed the streetlights could she see his face, and he was always trained right on her. Never saying a word while she spoke.
She leaned against the cool leather of the seat, facing forward.
“How many people are they expecting?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence.
“Several hundred,” she answered without looking at him again. “And there is the start of them now,” she added while pointing out the windshield toward the right side of the street.
Clay forced his eyes away from her long enough to look where she gestured.
Lines of people were outside the hotel, screaming and jumping up and down as each limo pulled u
p.
Once their limo was at the front of the line, Ron instructed, “Just call whenever you’re ready to go home. I’ll be within ten minutes’ drive time of you. Mr. Waters, here’s my card in case you need it for later.”
Clay pocketed the card while Angela said, “Okay, Ron, we shouldn’t be too long. I’ve had a rough couple days.” Someone came around and opened Clay’s door. Clay turned to Angela as she whispered, “Showtime,” and he stepped outside.
There were people everywhere. He held his hand out for Angela and she reached for it reflexively as she stepped from the limo. Her touch was electric. They had always had a connection, but it still surprised him when a current of desire raced down his back as she looked up at him. He pulled to stand, presenting her to the crowd. Flashbulbs went off all around them and reporters clamored for a moment of her time. Clay fell into an easy step behind her, staying close but fading into the background where he preferred to be.
One of the event coordinators interrupted her between interviews and took the dress she brought for the auction. They thanked her profusely, and still it seemed she never really took her attention away from the interview.
She was gracious and poised as she held herself away, but not impersonal.
There were quite a few other people giving interviews as well, but Angela was the one everyone watched.
She was a rock star. At least the equivalent, Clay thought, being the sought-after designer, and in New York City no less.
Photographers seemed to converge behind her, cutting Clay off from following her. The barricade was about fifty feet back from the entry doors that stood propped open at the top of a flight of stairs, and where Clay now found himself trying to wade through the crowd to get back to her.
Angela turned to face her admirers as she reached the apex of the stairs when her purse slipped from her fingers and fell back to the bottom.
Clay smiled a bit at her clumsiness, still trying to excuse himself through the throng of people clamoring for a glimpse of her, and he watched Angela descend two of the steps as flashbulbs went off everywhere around her.
“Angela” he yelled. As if in slow motion, she was blown off the steps and landed in a crumpled pile at the base of the staircase. She was unconscious as soon as her head struck the sidewalk, her mouth still open in a silent cry.
She never knew what hit her.
Clay heard her head crack on the concrete when she hit. He had never truly known fear until that moment.
The silence after the explosion was something out of a horror movie. Everyone froze for just a second and Clay was the only one moving, pushing and shoving other people out of the way, even before the dust settled.
People were screaming, he heard others take their cell phones out to call 9-1-1 and all he could think was, Dear God, please let her be alive, please let her be alive… He stumbled over debris several times and fell, cutting his hands before he finally dropped to his knees beside her.
She lay half on her side, half on her back facing him. Her dress was torn, and she lay lifeless in front of him.
Panic rose inside him as he yelled for someone to get an ambulance.
“Angela! Angela can you hear me?” he kept shouting, but no response came.
He knew he shouldn’t move her if she had a head injury, or worse… Fear gripped his insides as he brushed hair off her cheek. Her scraped and bloodied face would haunt him. He hands shook as he felt for a pulse at her throat, smearing his own blood on her neck.
He exhaled loudly as her pulse, strong and somewhat steady, reached his fingertips. He took off his suit jacket and covered her as best he could as sirens screamed in the distance.
What was he thinking? He’d acted like a rookie agent, so distracted by the photographers that he broke his number one rule.
Do not let anyone between you and your client.
Period.
If she was badly hurt, it would be his fault and he knew it. Questions kept popping up in his head.
Where did the bomb come from?
How was it detonated?
Was it meant for Angela, or was it just coincidence?
He looked around and people were milling about in shock.
Photographers sat on the concrete, staring at their broken cameras.
Other guests stood nearby, shaking, trying to figure out what to do. Several spoke on cell phones, covering their open ears so they could hear over the melee surrounding them.
Security for the event got the crowd calmed down and Clay never moved from Angela’s side.
He gently took her hand in his and held it. “Stay with me, Angie, stay with me,” he repeated over and over.
Police cruisers and an ambulance skidded to a halt in front of the hotel, when Angela finally squeezed his hand.
“Angela, can you hear me?” he asked again when he saw her eyes flicker as she tried to open them.
She moaned, trying to roll over onto her back. “Don’t move. There’s been an explosion,” he added through gritted teeth.
How in the hell had he let this happen?
Chapter Fifteen
Her eyes remained unfocused for a few seconds before she looked up Clay hovered above her.
The loudest sirens she’d ever heard split the air around them, along with red-and-blue spinning lights. She was pretty sure it was a police car, but it could all be in her head for how bad it hurt.
“Clay?” she croaked. Oh, it hurt to talk. Her head felt like someone had beaten her with a hammer. She hurt everywhere. “What…happened? An explosion.” she managed while trying to sit up, before almost blacking out again.
She had the worst headache of her life and she was nauseous, dizzy.
Clay caught her shoulders and softly held her close. Maybe she just ate something bad, but why would the police care if she got a hold of some bad chicken? Surely she hadn’t heard Clay correctly.
Angela closed her eyes, pretty sure she saw two Clays, and one was more than enough for her to deal with.
“There was a bomb…it blew you off the steps,” Clay said. “If you hadn’t dropped your purse? If you hadn’t turned and started back down when you did…” He sounded so sad. She wanted to pet him, soothe him, but her arms weren’t cooperating, and her head…
The stairs, I was talking to the press, getting ready to go into the dinner…
“Did you say bomb?”
“Yes, baby, and the paramedics are coming, okay? Just sit tight and we’ll get you to the hospital. Where do you hurt?”
She thought for a minute, everything went fuzzy again and then she came back to. Things were a bit clearer on round two. Her one side felt like she’d been drug down 5th Avenue behind a cab. Clay’s fingertips traced her brow, her nose, her lips. It felt nice. Then she realized his hands were shaking. He wiped off tears. Hers or his she didn’t know.
“It ruined my dress,” she accused and winced again at the pain that was now one big ache from head to toe. “Oh, and I bet my shoes are messed up, too. she added with a sigh as she moved her feet and only felt one shoe.
Clay chuckled nervously as he looked down at her. “At least you still have your sense of humor.”
“Who’s trying to be funny?” she replied, trying to smile through the pain. She didn’t want him to worry. “I loved those shoes. A friend of mine made them for me.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you,” he admitted as two paramedics swiftly picked their way over to them.
“I’m glad you weren’t there,” she said while looking at him. Seeing him clearly for the first time, she noticed a look of confusion on his face.
Angela reached up and touched the scar on his cheek.
“I don’t want anyone to be hurt because of me. I can accept someone coming after me, but if you were hurt because of me? That…that I couldn’t deal with.”
; He was stunned that, with how much head trauma she’d sustained, she was already lucid and put two and two together as well as he had, that she’d been the target.
They were interrupted mid conversation.
“Sir, can you tell us what happened?” two paramedics asked as they knelt beside them to assess Angela’s condition.
After a moment of regaining his head, Clay gave them a full accounting of who she was and that it seemed she took the brunt of the attack, though it could have been much worse.
They stabilized her with a neck brace and backboard then strapped her onto the gurney in mere minutes.
The police had lots of questions, but the paramedics said it was going to have to wait until after she was taken to the ER.
She was almost guaranteed a concussion and who knew what else.
Reaching for Clay, she asked him to get her purse before they took her away.
He jogged back over to the steps, retrieved it and brought it back to her.
“Will you come with me to the hospital?” she asked shyly.
“Yes, I’ll be right behind you. I need to talk to the police, and since they want to talk to you after you’ve been seen, I’ll have them give me a ride over there.”
“Okay,” she answered as the paramedics pulled her away from him and loaded her into the ambulance.
Clay hated to hear the disappointment in her voice and it pulled at his insides. The paramedic closed the doors behind her and he could still see her clutching his suit jacket.
The second EMT stopped by his side, “We’ll be taking her to the Lenox Hill Hospital. It’s on 64th between 3rd and 4th Avenues. Can you contact her family? She’s still in and out of consciousness, even as we were loading her, so they should be called as soon as possible.”
He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t speak. What the EMT didn’t say is they didn’t know what other injuries they would find when they arrived at the hospital. He nodded his head, and then watched them take her away.
Minutes later, Clay climbed the steps to where the police detectives were now staring at the jumbled metal that used to be the front doors to the Plaza. The awning wasn’t even recognizable.
Final Surrender: The Surrender Series, Book 1 Page 14