by Leanne Tyler
“Everything okay?” He leaned toward her.
“Nerves before a flight.”
“Yeah. Combat nerves. I get it.”
She grinned.
At the airport they checked in. Liam checked his tactical bag and duffle. He showed the airport attendant papers that went with his bags. Simone wasn’t sure what was about; however, it didn’t surprise her when the attendant tagged them with colored cable ties so they couldn’t be opened during the flight. When it was her turn, Simone was still deep in thought and gave the woman her bag even though she hadn’t planned to check it.
She followed Liam to security so they could be cleared to pass through to the waiting area. There was a short line, but they made it through with half an hour until their flight departed. They got coffee at the little kiosk and waited with the other commuters taking the shuttle flight from Chicago O’Hare to Washington National.
Simone sipped her coffee and sighed.
“It can’t be that bad,” he said.
“What?”
“Whatever has you so preoccupied?”
“I’m not…”
“Ah-ah-ah…You zoned out when we checked in upon our arrival. Don’t deny it.”
“So what? I’ve got a load on my mind with this revisit. I have to make a good impression on Webster-Reynolds or I’m out of a job.”
“But that’s not really what is on your mind.”
“How can you be so sure of yourself?” She glanced at him and then at the sturdy disposable coffee container.
“Because the Simone I met Friday night doesn’t let little trifles like impressions get to her. That’s small potatoes to her. No. I’d say there is something more pressing on your mind.”
She laughed at how well he could read her. Not even her friends knew her that well and they’d known her for years, but on that note she didn’t want to admit he was right either. So she shrugged and went back to sipping her coffee.
“Simmering will only get your stomach in knots and make the flight unbearable. You might as well get it off your chest.”
“I have nothing to get off my chest, thank you very much. Why don’t you keep your nose out of my business for a change?”
“Testy. Tsk-tsk-tsk.”
She rolled her eyes at him and swiveled in the seat so her back was to him. She tried to ignore him by looking at her phone, but she was all too aware of his body heat radiating off him from the seat beside her.
Thankfully their flight was called before her thoughts went south on body heat and close proximity. Of course, getting on a plane with Liam, thoughts of joining the mile high club kept running through her head as they boarded the plane and she had to tamp them down. There was no way she was luring him into the airplanes lavatory to join that club, as tempting as that thought was at the moment.
She didn’t understand what had suddenly gotten into her. Had there been something spicy in her coffee?
“Let me have your laptop bag and I’ll stow it in the overhead compartment,” Liam said.
Slipping it off her shoulder, she was careful not to let their fingers touch in the exchange. Contact with him right now might send a ripple effect down her body. She quickly took her seat beside the window and got comfortable, putting her purse under the seat in front of her.
Liam put the arm rest up between their seats before he sat down. “Hope you don’t mind. Those are annoying as all get out.”
“No. Not at all.”
“Good. Do you have your notes on your last trip so I can go over where you looked for your dad? I’d like to think about a strategy during the flight.”
“S-sure.” She got the notepad out of her purse and handed it to him, then stared out the window waiting for the plane to start moving for take-off. When that time came, she leaned her head back and laid her right hand on the arm rest, but her left made contact with Liam’s arm instead. She immediately looked at him and smiled as the plane rose into the air and made its ascent to flying altitude. Then she removed it as nonchalantly as she could, settling in for their flight.
Liam studied the notes Simone had taken on what she’d learned of her father’s last whereabouts while in Washington, DC. She’d been thorough in her search for him. He found they even drew the same conclusions, as her side notes indicated in the margins. Yet her father, Clayton Reid, was nowhere to be found. But he planned to change that outcome on this trip, or at least have a better sense of what might have happened to the man. There had to be a lead that was not uncovered in the nations’ capitol.
As soon as their flight touched down and the pilot thanked them for flying with the airlines, they got off the plane and made their way to baggage claim. Simone’s bag was waiting for her there, but he had to go to the security office to get his released to him because of the nature of its contents. He left her momentarily, and when he returned, she looked upset.
“What’s wrong?”
“Our hotel. There was a malfunction with the sprinkler system on two of the floors. They are having to reroute guests to different hotels for their stay. They say at no additional cost, but this hotel was business class and a perfect location for Webster-Reynolds. Plus, I booked us adjoining rooms. We might not get that where they are sending us.”
“You don’t know that for sure. As we learned in the marines, go with the flow. Don’t assume the worst until your staring the worst in the face. Then think about the brighter side.”
She tried to smile at him. “Thanks, but it still doesn’t help. I’m a creature of habit. I always stay at that hotel when I come on business for Webster-Reynolds. I know my way around when I’m there. This move will throw everything off for me.”
She grabbed the handle of her rolling bag and shook all over. “Get a grip, Simone. You’re a big girl. You can do this. Stop complaining.”
Now that wasn’t something he’d expected from her.
“Let’s get a cab,” he said.
“No. Metro. It’ll be faster.”
“Cab. Safer.”
She chuckled. “Right. And get stuck in DC traffic. Metro this way.”
She started walking toward the exit and he followed. If she wanted to walk however many blocks to the metro station in high heels she could be his guest; he was thinking about her comfort. He, on the other hand, could handle walking anywhere in the city.
As it turned out the metro station was outside the airport, so they didn’t have to go far and they took the blue line over to McPherson Square where they got off and walked less than a block to the hotel.
Simone looked up at the façade of the hotel and sucked in her breath. This was definitely classier than the hotel she had booked, but if they were covering the charges for her stay, she wasn’t about to complain. Before she could open the door, a bellman came out and held the door for her and Liam to enter.
“Thank you,” she said.
“My pleasure. Enjoy your stay.”
They crossed the atrium to the front desk and she was very aware of the click, click of her heels on the polished, marble floor and the whir, whir of the wheels on her roll-along.
“Welcome, are you checking in?” the front desk clerk asked.
“Yes. I should have a reservation under Reid. Simone Reid. Two connecting king rooms transferred from the Belmonté.”
“Reid. Yes, I do see a reservation for you, but I’m afraid we do not have any connecting rooms available. We have a junior suite for you instead. It’s on the concierge level and you’ll have access to all the concierge amenities for the duration of your stay.”
“How many rooms does the suite have?” Simone asked.
“One king bed, private sitting area with French doors,” the clerk explained.
“That won’t work. We need two rooms,” Simone said.
“I can sleep anywhere.” Liam leaned closer to her. “It’ll be fine. What kind of sofa is in the room, ma’am?”
The clerk looked at him. “It isn’t a sofa sleeper, sir. The sitting area is for meetings or
entertaining.”
“I don’t understand why the Belmonté wouldn’t transfer my reservation here for the same as I had? Two rooms, whether connecting or not.”
“One reservation. One room,” the clerk explained.
Simone shook her head. “That still isn’t solving the problem. We need two beds. Couldn’t you change my reservation to a room with two queens or something?”
“I’m sorry. We’re booked. The junior suite is an upgrade at no extra charge.”
“It’s fine. I can sleep on the floor if I have to.”
Simone turned to him. “No you won’t. I booked you a room and you are not going to sleep on the floor.”
She turned back to the clerk and smiled, sweetly, keeping her voice calm. “What about a rollaway? Can you send one of those to the room for him?”
“No ma’am we do not have rollaway beds here.”
“That stinks.” Her voice rose an octave.
“Simone. It’s fine. I can sleep anywhere.”
“Do you want the junior suite or not?” The clerk sounded irritated at the discussion.
“Yes. We’ll take it under the circumstances, but I’m not happy.”
The clerk handed them their room keys and they walked to the bank of elevators. Stepping inside, Simone looked at Liam. “The king bed is large enough for both of us. We’ll just make a wall down the middle with pillows or an extra blanket. You stay on your side. I’ll stay on my side. End of discussion.”
“If that’s how you want it.”
“I just said so, didn’t I?”
“You did.” He shook his head, smiling.
It irked her that he found their situation amusing. But it kinda was, after all. She was the one having thoughts of joining the mile high club with him on the airplane. And because of this snafu with the hotel room she could easily find herself waking up across the blanket border curled up next to him. Or even worse, what if she had a wild dream about him or something and acted on it in the middle of the night? This could be dangerous territory she was walking into, but his friends called him Don Juan for a reason. It had to be other than his last name being Donovan. Perhaps it was time to put him to the test.
Chapter 8
Night one in the junior suite
Liam slept better than he expected even though, when he work up at one point during the night he was more than aware of Simone being across that blanket barrier she’d insisted on. She snored. Not loud. Softly, like a mewling kitten. It was cute.
He’d lain there for a while listening to her until her leg shifted, crossing the blanket and brushed his thigh. His groin instantly hardened, a reaction he hadn’t expected from such a simple touch. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now with Simone. Brand had already warned him to keep his libido in check. And he intended to do just that, even if he was forced to share this bed with her every night while at this hotel. He would not cross the line. This was a job. Not a hookup. No matter how many times her leg brushed his during the night or her tight bottom bumped up against him in sleep, he would remain neutral, even if it killed him.
He’d rolled over, punched his pillow and tried his best to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t easy. Just knowing Simone was inches away and he couldn’t touch her made the junior suite feel like the worst torture chamber he’d ever been trapped in. And he’d thought his room at Walter Reed had been tight quarters and a death sentence. If he had only known then what he was going through now? He’d relish his recovery time after Helmand.
When he finally woke the next morning, it was too early. Simone was rushing around the room, trying to get ready because she’d overslept from what he heard her mumbling. He laid there, watching her try to be quiet, but she was doing a lousy job at it. She even tripped over his tactical bag and he had it tucked out of the way, or so he thought. When she was finally ready to leave, she grabbed her purse and computer bag and left, letting the suite door close loudly behind her. He heard her curse out in the hallway and he chuckled.
He rolled over and went back to sleep for a couple more hours before he finally got up and started his day. Then he got ready and went down to the concierge desk to inquire about the best local hangouts and a map of the city.
“The local hangouts? As opposed to where tourists go?” the man at the desk asked.
“That’s right. I’ve found that the locals know better and visit the smaller, off the beaten path places in cities.”
“This is DC. You can’t go wrong either local or tourist.”
“That may be true, but I still like to check out the local favorites whenever I travel.”
“Okay. I’d go down to K Street and check out Oliver’s. If you time it right you’ll get a table. If not, you might get an order to go, but the line may be too long. It really depends on the time you go.”
“I hear you. That sounds like the place I’m looking for. Thanks. And thanks for the metro and city maps.” Liam gave him a five dollar tip for his help before heading out of the hotel. He went straight to K Street to beat the local crowd for lunch and got a table at Oliver’s.
Simone had shared a photo of her father on his phone, so he showed the image of Clayton Reid to the waitress before the lunch crowd got heavy. He was curious if the man might have frequented the place on his trips to DC, but she was new to the area and had only worked there a few weeks. She sent over the manager and Liam showed Clayton’s photo to her, but she didn’t recognize him either as a regular customer.
Liam ordered the lunch special and enjoyed every bite of the lasagna, garlic bread and salad. He even finished it off with tiramisu. Totally sated, he paid for his meal and headed to his next destination, the hotel where Clayton Reid had checked in, but never checked out. Simone had requested they keep his luggage until he showed back up and had even paid them a deposit to store it for sixty days. So Liam just needed to ask the manager a few questions that perhaps Simone didn’t cover when she spoke with them. And see if he could take a look at hotel security video with his Chicago PD clearance. It was a long shot, but he’d put a call in to Hawkeye if he needed to see if he could pull a few strings.
A man Clayton Reid’s age and business status didn’t just vanish without a trace in this day and age of electronic footprint. Unless he wasn’t missing at all. That was an angle Liam hadn’t thought through. What if the man had taken himself off the grid for a reason? It was a theory worth investigating if the other didn’t pan out, but for now he’d follow up with the hotel manager and make a phone call to Reid’s secretary to see what he could learn from her as well.
The Hotel Palomar was a modern hotel that catered more to Liam and Simone’s age group than he suspected to Clayton Reid, yet according to Simone’s notes, this was the hotel her father stayed at every time he came to DC. It was located on P Street near Dupont Circle. He wasn’t sure what the appeal was to the hotel. Location? Night life? Museums? Art Galleries?
“What secrets are you keeping Clayton Reid?” Liam asked, standing in the atrium of the Palomar taking it all in. He noticed a display for loaner bikes. An Italian restaurant on site called to him even though he had only just eaten. The aroma of pasta and spices had him walking over to the glass encased menu outside the restaurant. He looked it over and made a quick decision.
“Do you take reservations?” He asked the hostess on duty.
“We do. What size of a party will you be having?”
“Two for dinner this evening. Do you have an opening for 7:30?”
“Yes. I can put you down for then. What name?” she asked.
“Donovan. Liam Donovan.”
“I have you down, Mr. Donovan.”
“Excellent.” He walked over to the front desk and asked to speak to the hotel manager.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” the clerk asked. He was a gentleman who looked to be in his mid-thirties.
“No. It’s a matter about a guest who never checked out.” Liam flashed him his Chicago PD credentials. “I think the manage
r is the best person to speak with about the situation.”
“Certainly.” The man picked up a phone and made a call. When he hung up, he looked back at Liam. “She’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you.” Liam stepped away from the counter so anyone wanting to check-in could do it while he waited.
“I’m Shelby Mitchell, day manager. How can I help you?”
“I’m Liam Donovan with Chicago PDs Protection Task Force.” He flashed his credentials for her, then he pulled up the picture of Simone’s father on his phone. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about this man, Clayton Reid. I understand he was staying here when he went missing?”
The woman paled and motioned him to follow her over to a seating area. “I’d rather not have other guests over hear this conversation. I do not believe that Mr. Reid’s disappearance has anything to do with the Palomar. He stays here when he is in DC. He’s a lovely man. Older than most of our guests, but he never appeared out of place here. He fit in, if you know what I mean. I spoke to his daughter only last week and told her I knew nothing about his going missing. When he did not check out as scheduled and his room wasn’t emptied, housekeeping did pack his bags. We held them as a courtesy for him, thinking he got held up in a business meeting and didn’t get to return on time. That has happened before. But he has always returned to collect his baggage.”
“Did you tell his daughter that?” Liam asked.
“I’m not sure. She was distraught over her father being missing when she came and found he had not come back to collect his luggage or check. She paid a deposit and arrangements for us to keep the bags here until he returned.”
Liam nodded. “During the time Mr. Reid stayed here can you recall him ever having a meeting here with anyone that looked suspicious?”
“No. To my recollection he never met anyone here. He never brought anyone back to the hotel with him either.”
“Did you by chance report him missing to the Washington police?” Liam asked.