Protect Me, Love

by Alice Orr

  “I’m not rattled,” she said in a defiant tone, all the time knowing this to be one of the most absurd statements she’d ever made.

  “I see.”

  There he was “seeing” everything again, when she knew for an absolutely incontrovertible truth that he saw nothing. Her fury threatened to reignite. If she permitted that to happen, she’d be in danger of coming off as a complete crazy woman.

  “I need to get out of this room,” she said. She was forcing herself to appear calm, which, for some unfathomable reason, made her voice come out in what most closely resembled a squeak.

  “Where did you have in mind to go?”

  He was still watching her carefully, but his expression had gravitated from bewilderment to wariness.

  “Go?” she squeaked as if that might be the most ridiculous question she’d ever heard. She cleared her throat before speaking again and managed to bring her pitch down half an octave or so. “I had no specific destination in mind. I thought maybe I’d just wander around the hotel for a while.”

  “To get your bearings and scout the premises?”

  “Exactly.”

  She was grateful that he’d come up with such a rational explanation. Despite her father’s sage advice, she’d have been hard-pressed to tell the truth right now. How could she admit that, in point of fact, the mere sight of a door had sent her plummeting headlong in the opposite direction from rationality. Such a confession was definitely not the way to go in her quest to knit together the remaining threads of her dignity.

  “Fine,” he said, “but I have to go with you.”

  “You do?” She wished she couldn’t hear how silly that sounded.

  “I’m your bodyguard. Remember? A bodyguard covers the body.”

  Delia managed only a nod in response to that as she headed the rest of the way to the hallway door, wishing he hadn’t chosen quite those words.

  NICK HAD NO idea what could be wrong with Delia. He only knew he shouldn’t leave her alone. When she took off down the hall out of her room, he followed. She was walking so fast he had to hustle to keep up. Luckily for them, the corridor was empty or she would definitely have attracted more attention than was wise to do. They were here to hide, after all, not to be noticed. Their outfits might have gotten them more attention than he preferred even without Delia darting off down the hall as if she had the devil on her tail.

  They certainly didn’t look like they belonged at the Waldorf. He would have changed clothes if he’d had the chance to stop back at his hotel. There’d been no time for that so he still had on his jeans and dark sweater. He’d left his jacket in his room. At least, Delia’d taken off those hobnailed boots she’d worn to Hester Street. The pair she was wearing now were made of soft, black leather that hugged her narrow foot and had a short, square heel. She’d gotten rid of the sweatshirt and patched jeans, too, which was probably a good idea, though he missed how endearing she’d looked in them. Before leaving her apartment, she’d put on a sweater, also soft and also black and very well made. He guessed it was cashmere. The red in her hair shone against the dark wool as she hurried toward the elevators.

  He wanted to tell her to slow down and think through what she was doing and where she was going, but he could see she was still very agitated. She clutched her arms around herself and stared impatiently at the floor indicator as they waited for the elevator. She shifted from one foot to the other and bit her lip. She was obviously not in a frame of mind to be reasoned with right now. He didn’t have to be an expert on human nature to figure that out. Nick kept his mouth shut and followed her into the elevator when it finally arrived.

  They weren’t alone. A thirty-something couple stood at the back of the car. Nick smiled to reassure them that they weren’t suddenly in the company of Bonnie and Clyde. The couple had their coats on as if they planned to go outside. They looked like they were from out of town. The woman had on too much jewelry for the casual outfit she was wearing, and especially for the streets of Manhattan. Most men might not notice such things. Careful observation was part of Nick’s training and his job, as was making judgments and deductions about the people he and his clients encountered.

  He was tempted to tell this woman to go back to her room, take off some of that jewelry and make the rest less conspicuous if she was going out onto the street. He resisted the impulse. He was here to take care of Delia and nobody else, which was proving to be a very fulltime assignment. Besides, this woman probably wouldn’t appreciate his advice anyway. She most likely wouldn’t listen, either. She’d just finished looking Delia’s simple, understated outfit up and down with obvious distaste. The woman shifted her gaze to Nick. He saw a flash of approval in her eyes as she checked him out from his boots on up. Still, he suspected she wouldn’t consider either himself or Delia a reliable fashion consultant.

  They rode down to the lobby level in silence. Nick took note that Delia had managed to calm the more blatant signals of her agitated state, probably for the benefit of the couple in the elevator. She stepped briskly out of the car after the doors slid open. Nick waited to see which way she’d go—to the left and the foyer at the front of the hotel or to the right and the main reception area. There were cocktail lounges in both directions and restaurants, too. Nick was definitely hungry. He hoped one of those restaurants was on Delia’s itinerary. He was about to take a chance on reigniting her frenzy by suggesting they get something to eat, when she began behaving in what he considered a bizarre manner once more.

  She’d stepped to the side of the elevator door and put her thumb on the call button, apparently to keep the car from moving, as if she were a hotel employee in charge of making sure the door stayed open while guests exited. She stood like that, almost patiently, as the tourist couple walked out. The woman glanced back as they continued toward the front foyer. She leaned toward the man she was with to say something, and he glanced back, too. They turned away again, both shaking their heads. Nick could all but hear them pegging Delia and himself as New York weirdos who were way out of their element at the Waldorf.

  Meanwhile, Delia was doing something that made even Nick think that the tourist couple might be right in their judgment, at least of her. Instead of walking in one direction or another along the lobby, she’d stepped back into the elevator. The door began to close, probably because she now had her finger on the button to make it do that. Nick slipped through the narrowing opening just in time to keep from being either crushed between the doors or left in the lobby. She pushed a floor button. He looked at the panel. Number four was lighted. He wondered if she had a specific destination in mind. He didn’t ask. He’d decided that the best approach was to let her calm down all the way. Movement, wherever it might lead them, could have that calming effect. Being interrogated would not.

  She’d already cooled down some. The pinkish heat of excitement that had colored her throat and reddened her cheeks was subsiding. Nick found himself unable to turn his gaze away from the place where her black sweater met the white skin of her neck. He thought at first that the beauty of the contrast had him mesmerized, but there was something more. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what this particular sight stirred in him. He pressed his memory for the connection, but the elevator stopped at the fourth floor before he had an answer.

  Delia was out the door almost instantly at a furious pace, maybe in pursuit of whatever peace of mind she hoped these opulent corridors might have to offer. Nick understood that impulse. She wanted her life back. When some crazy was after you, that’s what it felt like—as if your life had been, not just invaded, but stolen from you. Nick had heard other clients talk about having such feelings, and the rage and frustration that went with them. He suspected Delia might be feeling the same thing right now. If that sent her charging through hotel hallways like she’d been shot from a cannon, he was willing to trail along. Still, he was relieved when she slowed a few yards beyond the elevator door and allowed him to catch up.

  “You may be wonder
ing why I’ve gathered us together here this evening,” she said when he joined her.

  Her voice was surprisingly unemotional considering her behavior since they’d left her room. She wasn’t smiling so Nick didn’t recognize right away that she was making a joke. He stared at her for a moment, wondering what she could be talking about. Then he got the picture.

  “Yes,” he said. “I was wondering that very thing.”

  “I’ll bet you were.”

  She still wasn’t smiling, but she had definitely calmed down, even rediscovered her sense of humor. Nick allowed himself to relax just a little. Then she did something even more unexpected than her previous dashing around. She linked her arm through his and began walking down the hall at a normal pace.

  “We’re a nice couple from somewhere sane, like Tennessee or Texas or Idaho,” she was saying. “We’ve come to New York City for the holidays, and right now we’re exploring this fancy hotel we’ve checked into.”

  Nick understood that she was defining their cover—what they should try to look like to other people. He could also hear the nostalgia in her tone, as if she might be wishing their circumstances really were so innocent and uncomplicated. They passed a wide mirror on the corridor wall and he stole a glance into it. They certainly did look like they could be that nice couple she described. He was only a little surprised to hear his own thoughts whisper a wish as nostalgic as she sounded. Nick allowed himself only an instant of that. He had to keep alert to the present, and that also didn’t mean thinking about how he could feel the soft warmth of her breast brush against his upper arm as they walked along.

  He turned himself determinedly away from that sensation, and that was when he sensed something very different. He suddenly had the feeling they were being followed. He turned around and looked behind them. He didn’t let go of her arm. Luckily, she was on his left side, which kept his weapon hand free. The gun in his back waistband was within easy reach. He was ready to go for it if he had to, but his backward glance revealed no need for such drastic action. The corridor was empty, just as it had been when they passed through it. Doorways led off to one side. He’d already figured out that this must be the conference room level of the hotel. Those double doorways had all been closed when he and Delia walked by, and there was no sound coming from beyond any of them. The only noise he could hear was in the other direction, the way they were headed but far off and not threatening.

  “Is something wrong?” Delia asked.

  His survey of the corridor behind them had disturbed their strolling pace. He felt her body begin to tense again beneath his arm. He didn’t want that. Maybe the bodyguard manual would say it was good for a client to be scared onto her toes when she was a mark, but Delia’d been on her toes for so long now she was about ready to topple over.

  “Just checking out the neighborhood. All’s clear,” he said, and hoped that was true.

  Chapter Nine

  Delia had been walking hallways and turning corners blindly ever since they left the elevator. She hoped Nick had some idea where they were now because she didn’t. She’d have asked him about that, but she was afraid her voice would break. She didn’t intend to let Nick know how shaken just being in the same corridor with him made her feel. Squeaking like a boy at puberty was sure to reveal exactly that, so she kept her mouth shut and silently hoped his compass was working better than hers at the moment.

  Delia’s agitation really began back at her apartment when he asked about the people in the photos on her window table. He naturally assumed they were her family. She’d wished she could blurt out the whole pathetic story of how she’d found those pictures in a box of old, framed photographs at a secondhand store and bought them for a dollar or two apiece. She hadn’t known why she was doing that at the time, at least not consciously. When she got them home, she’d washed the glass and polished the brass frames till they gleamed. She’d set them up on that table with the window light behind them. She knew they weren’t her actual family, of course, but it was easier to look at their faces than to remember the real ones and how much pain went along with those memories. She recognized now, more than she’d let herself before, how pitiful such a story would sound, especially to a man like Nick. Maybe that’s why, when she heard music coming from down the hotel corridor ahead of them she took off, all but running toward the distraction.

  A short flight of stairs brought them closer to the sound. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the stairs then looked quickly away. Her cheeks were too flushed, and her eyes were too bright. She had the appearance of being just a little crazed, but that wasn’t what made her turn her glance away. Nick was only a couple of steps behind her. She saw concern in his eyes, and that made her feel more unhinged than ever.

  At the bottom of the stairs and to the left was a ballroom with the double doors opened wide. A holiday party was in full swing inside. The massive crystal chandelier that hung from the center of the frescoed ceiling had been targeted by rotating red and green gel lights in the corners of the room. The chandelier facets twinkled as if they’d been set dancing in the colors of the season. A garland of live greenery bordered the doorway with clutches of red velvet and gold glass balls at each angle and in the center. Delia looked up to find herself directly beneath a spray of mistletoe.

  “That’s a dangerous place to stand, young lady,” a male voice said.

  By the time Delia realized it wasn’t Nick speaking, she had already leapt into the ballroom, out of range of those sprigs of green leaves and white berries and what they represented. She was much too unsettled by Nick to take a chance on mistletoe.

  “Come on in,” the man said.

  That brought Delia back to her senses enough to tell her she had just crashed a private party.

  “Sorry,” she stammered. “I just heard the music, and-”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” the man interrupted, smiling broadly. “The more, the merrier. Please, join us.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t do that. This is a private party, and we—”

  “You can do anything I say,” he interrupted again. “This is a company party, and I own the company.”

  He was a portly gentleman in his late fifties or sixties. From the cut of the expensive suit he was wearing, he certainly could be who he said he was. He took Delia’s arm and turned back toward Nick who was standing in the doorway looking as if he might be wondering what to do next.

  “Please, come along, too, young man,” their selfappointed host called out to Nick. “You and your lovely companion are most welcome.”

  Nick hesitated. His glance moved from the man’s jovial smile to Delia’s face. She wasn’t quite smiling, but she hoped her eyes told him how much she wanted to accept the invitation and pretend to be a normal person doing normal things, if only for a little while.

  “I suppose there’s no harm in it,” Nick said as he took a step over the threshold.

  “No harm in it?” their host exclaimed. “It’s the best thing possible. There’s nothing like a party to put you in the spirit of the season.” He took Delia’s hand and held it out to Nick. “You two have a good time. That’s an order. I must be off now to take care of a few things. You help yourselves to the buffet while I’m gone.”

  He gestured toward the tables on either side of the doorway, laden with chafing dishes and platters brimming with food. In that instant Delia was suddenly aware of how long it had been since she’d eaten. She would have thought she was too upset to be hungry. Her stomach growled in denial of that assumption. She was ravenous. Nick must be, too, maybe even more so. A man his size needed to fortify himself regularly, but she’d kept him running so fast there’d been no opportunity to stop for a meal. She grabbed his hand even before he could take hers and began leading him toward the nearest buffet table.

  “Thank you,” she said, remembering her manners.

  Delia turned toward their generous host, but he was scurrying off out of the double doors into the chandeli
er-lit foyer. He stopped and whispered something to a younger man outside the doorway who glanced back toward Delia and Nick then nodded and started toward them. Maybe this was some kind of joke or mistake and they were about to be tossed out into the gleaming parquet foyer on their ears. Delia halted her beeline for the food and wondered what should be her next move as the young man bore down on them from the doorway. Nick must have been apprehensive, as well, because he stepped between Delia and the approaching stranger but didn’t let go of her hand.

  “Hi, there,” the young man said with such obvious good cheer that Delia couldn’t help but relax. “The boss says you’re his special guests and that you’re under strict orders to eat, drink and be merry.”

  He held out his hand for Nick to shake. Delia saw Nick hesitate and sensed what must be going on in his head. Then he took the young man’s hand and shook it firmly.

  “My name’s Rudy,” the young man said. “Let me know if you need anything. There’s no arguing with the boss, so you’d better have fun.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Nick said. “We will.”

  Delia couldn’t tell if he meant that or was just being polite. Rudy seemed to interpret it as a cue that his job was done here. He smiled and nodded before taking off into the foyer after his boss. Delia looked up at Nick. He was still holding her hand. His grip was light and warm with no insistence in it. Still, she knew she couldn’t have let go no matter how hard she tried.