Lewis Security

by Glenna Sinclair

  “I wonder if we could have somebody checking invitations outside the ballroom, something like that.” I could tell he was already buying into the idea. “Wow, the St. Regis? She must be pretty good if somebody with that kind of money hires her.”

  “She’s very good.” I remembered the prints in the kitchen, and the ones in the living room, too. Once I knew she had taken them, I’d started paying attention. She had a way of taking the most random moments and seeing them when anybody else would walk by, too busy worrying about themselves.

  “I hate to tell the kid she can’t make a living right now,” he muttered. “Maybe I can come in and help you out. You can be her assistant for the day.”

  “Her assistant?” I hated the idea more and more every minute.

  “And I guess you’d better send somebody to your place to pick up a suit from your closet.”

  “I don’t have a suit in my closet.”

  “You don’t have a suit?” He sounded like I’d just told him I was a virgin, or something just as ridiculous.

  “No. I don’t need one.”

  “Fuck. Great. Well, you’re gonna have to go out and get one. I’ll send somebody over to sit with her while you do. We can’t have anybody wondering why there’s a person out of place at this thing, you know? You have to blend in.”

  Oh, sure. I looked like the Incredible Hulk’s kid brother, and I was gonna blend in as a photographer’s assistant. Like anybody would buy that.

  I went back inside, and it surprised me to see Molly sitting in the living room. I was almost sure she would’ve gone back outside even when I told her not to. She looked up, expecting me to seal her fate.

  “Looks like you have an assistant now,” I said.

  Chapter Six – Molly

  “Hurry up. I have to get things set up before the ceremony.” I made sure everything was packed and ready to go while Brett finished getting ready in my room. The door was closed, so I didn’t know what he was doing in there. Didn’t men only have to put on a suit and they were good to go? Meanwhile, we women had to do about a half-million things just to consider ourselves presentable.

  The door opened, and I looked up more on reflex than anything else. I was about to look back down at what I was packing, but the sight of him wiped everything else from my mind.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Oh, he didn’t want to know what I thought just then. I thought about the pain in my chest, literal pain, at the mere sight of how gorgeous and debonair he looked. I thought about pulling every piece of clothing from his body with my teeth. I thought about canceling the shoot just so I’d have an excuse to lock myself in the apartment with him. I knew he had only gone out and chosen the suit that fit him best—he was sort of in a hurry to get back to me, even though the agent who’d taken his place was perfectly capable—but the light, dark blue fabric might as well have been cut just for him. A starched white shirt and light blue tie made his eyes pop. He adjusted one of the cuffs, then brushed a piece of lint off his jacket.

  I couldn’t breathe. How was I supposed to tell him how he looked when I couldn’t breathe?

  “You look nice,” I croaked.

  He grimaced. “Wow. You’re great with a compliment.”

  That cut through the haze of arousal he’d wrapped me in. “I’m sorry. Was I supposed to fall on my knees and beg to suck you off just because you look nice?”

  His eyes bulged. “Point taken. Sorry.” He picked up the equipment—it was a treat, actually, not having to carry it myself. “You look nice, too.”

  Nice. Well, that was what I deserved. So what if I had picked out my prettiest dress and taken special care with my hair and makeup? So what if it might have had a little something to do with him? Not that I liked him that way or anything, but there was something about a ridiculously handsome man that made a girl want to look her best.

  We left the apartment and walked down the stairs to where Pax was waiting for us. “You look very nice,” I muttered as we went, and I thanked God I’d had the sense to wear flat sandals.

  “You look very nice,” he parroted. I saw what he was playing at. He wouldn’t give me more than I gave him. I was glad we weren’t walking side-by-side so he couldn’t see my smile.

  Pax was also striking in his dark suit, but he didn’t affect me the way Brett had. I wondered if he’d ever considered modeling. I knew a half-dozen photographers who would’ve given an arm for the chance to use him as a model. He had an almost symmetrical face. And those eyes! In black and white, they would jump from the shot.

  Pax drove us to the St. Regis, where another two agents were already waiting. He must have pulled strings with the management and convinced them to allow a little extra help. Maybe Detective Montez had something to do with it, too. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t help but be grateful for them. Even though I hadn’t so much as heard a peep from anybody, friend or foe, the thought that they could be out there waiting for me to make a misstep was unsettling. I hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep all week.

  “So you know the drill,” Pax said as we crossed the gold-and-marble lobby and stepped into the elevator car.

  I nodded. “Brett’s my assistant, and you’ll be at the entry to the ballroom. There are already cameras set up above the doors so anybody who goes in or out will be picked up.”

  “Right. There’s no way anybody will get in there without us knowing about them. We also have two cameras in the ballroom, and our surveillance team will be watching for anybody who seems like they’re acting funny.”

  “Just how many strings did you have to pull to get this done?” I asked with a smile.

  “You have no idea. Sometimes I wish I had never beat up Jimmy McNeil.” I had no idea what that meant, but Brett snickered. An inside joke, I guessed.

  I couldn’t think about that just then. I had to get into work mode. My concentration focused on what I needed to do to make my clients happy—the guys knew what they were doing, and I had to let them do what they did best. There was an hour until the ceremony started, so I walked through the venue and got a feel for where I’d need to be. The ballroom had been transformed, with a long, white runner down the center which led to a chuppah under which the bride and groom would say their vows. It was absolutely beautiful, the four posts covered in roses and hydrangea in soft shades of pink and white. A piece of sheer white fabric was draped over top, creating a roomy arch for the couple and the rabbi. I took several shots of it in its perfect, untouched state, getting some close-ups on the flowers as I did.

  Both sides of the makeshift aisle were full of rows of cane-backed chairs. It was going to be a big celebration with over three hundred guests. I took a series of shots at the far end of the aisle, focused on the chuppah.

  All the while, I heard Brett and Pax talking in the background with the other agents while hotel employees hurried back and forth to put out even more flowers on stands at the end of every row of chairs. The scent of roses was heavy in the air by the time they finished.

  “I guess the florist was happy to get this job,” Brett muttered over my shoulder. I jumped, startled. “Sorry,” he murmured, touching my shoulder. I could almost feel the heat from his hand through the thin jersey of my dress.

  “I was lost in my own world,” I confessed.

  “Thinking about what?”

  “About how perfect it would be to get married in a place like this, with all these flowers everywhere. It’s like a fairytale.” I blushed. “I sound like such a girl right now, I know.”

  “You’re supposed to sound like a girl.” He looked around, and I could tell he was trying to see what I saw. But he was a guy, and he was there on business. He didn’t have the imagination I did. “I don’t know. I guess it’s pretty. All I can think about is how much it must have cost them, and I wonder what’ll happen to all these flowers after today.”

  “Oh. That’s depressing. Thanks a lot.” I elbowed him, then laughed at myself for doing it. Since when did we tease
each other? Maybe it was being out of the apartment. The change of pace was helpful. “Besides, there are programs where you can donate flowers to nursing homes and hospitals. Maybe they’re doing that.”

  “That’s a good idea. I can get behind that.”

  I smirked. “I’ll let the happy couple know you approve.”

  The doors opened, and in strode the groom and his party. It was time to get to work.

  ***

  “How am I doing?”

  “Hand me that lens.” I pointed to the one in question, sitting in my bag, and I detached the one I had been using. “You’re doing all right. I would believe you worked with me if I didn’t know any better.”

  “I guess that’s a compliment.” He smirked as he handed the lens over.

  “It is.” I hurried over to the dance floor, where the father of the bride was dancing with his daughter. It was beautiful, really, and I did what I could to capture that. But nothing would have, not really. Nothing could’ve captured the way she looked at him, or the way he looked down at her with tears in his eyes. I could see their whole relationship right there in front of me. Once a lens came into the equation, the magic was lost. But not entirely. I always tried to get as close as I could to capturing it.

  Once the song ended, I turned back to where Brett waited for me. I hoped he didn’t notice me wiping away the single tear that had overflowed while I was shooting the dance, but of course he had. He was almost as observant as I was.

  “You okay?” He looked down at me with a frown. Ugh. Typical man, totally lacking an understanding of what made a woman cry over certain things.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” Another tear slipped by, and I quickly wiped it away, too.

  I looked down to see him holding out a handkerchief and just about swooned. It was just about the suavest thing I had ever seen. I smiled in thanks and took it. It smelled like his cologne.

  I almost forgot I was there to work.

  “How’s it going?” I whispered. Time to remember what was really happening. He wasn’t some dashing heartthrob who happened to have a hankie. He was my bodyguard.

  “Perfect. The team hasn’t seen anybody they’re worried about.”

  “I didn’t think they would. I keep telling you, there’s nothing for me to be afraid of. You guys are wasting your time, I’m sorry to say.” He followed me around the room to the head table, where the best man was getting ready to give his toast. I set myself up not far from where he would stand, but still far enough away that I wouldn’t be in the middle of anything. I hated an obtrusive photographer.

  “I hope you’re right,” Brett muttered just before the speech started. I hoped I was, too—no, I knew I was. I had nothing to worry about. That was what I had to tell myself.

  The thing was, and as the night went on this became a bigger problem, I needed to unburden myself to somebody. Maybe it was being there, at the wedding, seeing how in love the bride and groom were. All that love and emotion in the air left me a little soft and weepy because I had spent the entire week doing my best to be strong. I had to be like steel, so nobody could get at me. But that was exhausting, emotionally and physically. I wanted to be vulnerable. I wanted to put my burdens at somebody else’s feet and let them take care of things for a little while. And the more time I spent with Brett, looking the way he did and smelling the way he did and being so sexy just about every woman in the room but the bride drooled over him, the more I wanted the person I confessed to to be him.

  But that just wasn’t possible. I put it from my mind as I worked and he trailed behind me like a faithful puppy dog.

  Chapter Seven – Brett

  “I don’t know how you do it.” I slid out of the dress shoes I had bought just for the occasion, wincing as I did. “Fuck, I should’ve broken these in first.”

  “You don’t know how I do what?” I heard her getting changed in the bedroom and wished she wouldn’t. She looked like a million in even a simple dress like the one she was wearing—sleeveless, flowy, almost see-through but not quite. I had spent more time that night than I wanted to admit wishing I could get a look at what was underneath.

  “How you run around a wedding like that without dropping from exhaustion.” I sank onto the couch and loosened my tie before popping the top two buttons of my shirt.

  The sound of her laughter floated through the closed door. “And you were a soldier.”

  “Yeah, well, I was younger then.” I laughed a little at myself. She made a good point.

  “Did you have enough to eat at the reception?” she asked. The door opened, and she stood there in a tank top and cotton pajama pants. Her face was clean of the makeup she had worn earlier and her long hair, which she had curled and pinned up, was in a bun. How was it possible that she looked even better the way she was just then?

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah. I guess so. I picked where I could.”

  “Yeah, me too. I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

  “At midnight?”

  “Why not? I’m too full of energy to go to sleep right now, anyway. I always feel this way after a job.”

  “Meanwhile, I feel exhausted.”

  “Why don’t you take my bed tonight, then?” She sat at the other end of the couch with her knees against her chest. “You can sleep in there and I’ll stay out here. With my pizza.”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t work like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it just doesn’t. I stay out here, you stay in there. Those are the rules.” I shrugged. “I didn’t make them, I just follow them.” And I would’ve liked to break them. No, smash them. I wanted to take her into the bedroom and throw her down on the bed. I was only human, and she was gorgeous. I had been fighting it all week, hadn’t I? And I’d been a good boy, too. My balls ached with the need to jerk off after all the thinking about her I’d been doing, but I hadn’t even done that. It wasn’t my shower, after all, even if there was no way she would ever find out.

  She frowned. “I was only trying to be nice.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. I would love to sleep in a bed and not on this couch, by the way. It’s a little short for me. My legs hit around here.” I touched the mid-point of my calf. “After that, I’m hanging over the arm.”

  “That sucks. I’m sorry.” She leaned her chin on her knee. “I wish there was a way we could call all this off. I mean, it’s been almost a week and nothing’s happened.”

  Something went off in my head. Was she just being nice because she thought I would leave her alone? She had another thing coming. “I think the mafia knows how to keep things quiet when they have a plan in place.”

  “Ouch.” She closed her eyes. “That’s pretty harsh.”

  “That’s the truth, though. Sorry if it’s harsh.”

  “You don’t sound sorry.” Her eyes were still closed. Good. She couldn’t see the expression on my face. I was never a fan of a woman trying to use emotion to twist me around her finger. Did she even mean it when she cried during the reception?

  I took a step back and realized I was being an irrational ass. She wasn’t a criminal mastermind. She was a scared girl, in over her head, and I was practically telling her the Big Bad Wolf was right outside the door.

  “That was a shitty thing to say. I’m truly sorry.”

  Her eyes slowly opened. “I believe you this time.”

  “I guess that’s good.” Smooth, dipshit. She turned me into a blubbering idiot. If she noticed, she didn’t seem to mind. Well, why would she mind knowing she turned me into an idiot?

  I took a step back again and told myself to chill. Who the hell was I? A girl put on a dress and I started second-guessing everything she said and did, not to mention everything that came out of my mouth.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. She looked away, and the moment was over. It was for the best, anyway. I checked out the message.

  “Ricardo wants us to come in tomorrow morning,” I announced.

  “Why?” If there was eve
r a “deer in headlights” look, she wore it on her face just then.

  “He wants you to look through pictures of known associates of the De Marco crime family. Maybe it’ll jog your memory some.”

  She scowled. “I already told him and you and everybody else that I don’t remember anything.”

  “Why are you acting so stubborn?’

  “I am not acting stubborn!”

  “Those detectives are working their asses off to figure out who did this so you’ll be safe.”

  “Wrong. They’re working to find out who killed that man so they can make an arrest. I’m only a small part of the bigger picture.” She fixed me with a cold stare. “I can handle knowing that. Why can’t you?”

  “But this is in your best interest.”

  “No, Brett. My best interest would’ve been running and never coming back. I could’ve gone anywhere, absolutely anywhere. I have a little money in the bank—not a ton, but enough to help until I found a job.”

  “That’s no way to live, on the run like that.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just guessing. Wouldn’t you rather have, you know, a steady life? Something stable? Not to mention not having to look over your shoulder everywhere you go?”

  She stared blankly for a long time, until a slow smile came over her face. “I really don’t believe you. Are you that naïve? Or do you think I am? Is that what’s happening here?”

  “What are you talking about?” I couldn’t help but rise to the bait when she talked to me like that.

  “You think this has anything to do with keeping me safe? Brett, I’m a dead woman walking. If they make an arrest, what happens when it’s time for me to testify that I saw the person they arrested? I’ll have to move across the country, anyway. Don’t you get it? The minute I knocked over those trash cans, I signed my own death warrant. I either stay here and wait for them to kill me before the trial, or I let you guys hide me out until after the trial and take off for parts unknown. I’ll have no family, no friends, no employment record. I won’t even be able to use my own portfolio to get a job. Nothing to my name. I’ll have to start from scratch.” The laugh that bubbled up out of her throat was bitter and harsh. “This doesn’t end happily for me, Brett. So I’m probably better off never identifying who I saw that night, even though I never got a good look. And that’s the truth.”