Hannah Jayne - Under Suspicion

A slow, suggestive grin spread across Will’s face. He licked his puckered pink lips, and I ignored the urge to slide a feather of kisses over him. He was my Guardian; and good-looking or not, he was annoying as hell.

Also, he had a car named Nigella.

He raked a hand through his hair, making the spiky, sand-colored strands stand up in a charmingly disheveled way. He jutted his chin toward the cluster of neatly upholstered chairs that were set up to look like a cozy living-room set. “Wait over there.”

I wandered over to the faux living room and scanned the magazines fanned out attractively on the coffee table, while keeping one eye on Will as he sauntered up to the phone lady. His back was toward me, but that sly grin practically shot out like a force field or an English mating call.

Phone lady didn’t seem to be swayed.

Will leaned seductively against the front desk, and the woman hung up her phone. Her pinched face and naked eyes fixed on him. She offered him what looked like a stock, courteous smile and Will leaned a bit more over the front counter, saying something that I supposed was sexy and suggestive. From the look on the lady’s face, Will was either about to get a master suite or slapped with a restraining order.

He slowly turned and grinned over his shoulder at me, giving me a double thumbs-up, while the lady got back on the phone. From the looks of the dark-suited man quickly barreling toward Will, she had summoned security.

I fished around in my purse for an envelope—this was one time it really paid to pack the world in my shoulder bag—and mashed several magazine pages inside. Then I popped up and wedged my way between the hulking guard and Will.

“Hi, um, excuse me. I’m supposed to deliver this to Harley Cavanaugh. The writer?” I wagged the thick envelope just under the security guard’s nose. Close enough for him to think it was chock-full of very important information; fast enough for him not to realize the envelope said YOU MAY HAVE ALREADY WON $1,000,000!

By the time the security guard pushed me aside, Will had slipped away, and the phone lady turned her static smile on me.

“Did you say you have something for Mr. Cavanaugh?”

“Yes.” I waggled the envelope. “Very important documents. Mr. Cavanaugh needs them right away.”

Now that I was close enough, I could see that the phone lady wore a little engraved nametag on her lapel. “Sharona,” I added, eyeing her name tag.

Sharona pursed her lips and gave me a suspicious once-over. “And who did you say you were?”

“I didn’t. What I did say was that Harley Cavanaugh needs these documents right away.”

Sharona held her palm open. “I’ll see that he gets them.”

“I would really prefer to deliver them myself.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

“I understand. But will you please ring him right now to let him know that they’re coming?”

Sharona let out an exasperated sigh and waved the security guard away. He retook his post by the front door, apparently content that Will, the English threat, was gone.

Sharona’s ultralong nails clicked away at her keyboard and she was back on the phone. I could hear the shrill ringing as she cradled the receiver. I stood up on my tiptoes and whispered the word “bathroom.”

Sharona rolled her eyes and jabbed one clawed fingernail a little too close to my left ear, but I got the gist. I slid the envelope in my pocket and beelined across the foyer toward the restrooms.

I was pacing outside the ladies’ room when Will came up to me, smiling broadly. “That was brilliant, love, really.”

“Did you see the computer screen?”

“Three thirty-seven. Thanks for getting security off my back, too.”

“Next time, let me do the talking.”

We took the stairs and I was huffing by the time we reached the third floor. I assumed it was the altitude and helped myself to a chocolate off the maid’s cart as we counted off the rooms.

“Here we are, room 337,” Will said.

“Okay.”

We stood and stared at each other. “Okay, what?” Will asked.

“Knock.”

Will rapped on the door and we stood, waiting, silent.

Nothing happened. I pressed my ear to the door.

“Do you hear anything?” Will asked.

I shook my head. “Well, that was a big waste.”

“Not at all.” Will threw on that charming, sheepish grin, which he did so well, and strolled down to the maid who was locking up room 341.

“Hi there. My wife and I are here on our second honeymoon”—he looked over his shoulder at me and I gaped, wondering how he could muster a bashful blush on command—“and we seemed to have locked ourselves out of our room. It’s our first time here, and we’re just so excited to see the city.”

The woman looked around Will at me and I nodded quickly, feeling my ponytail bobbing.

“We’re from the UK,” Will continued.

“Yes, yes,” I said, coming closer to Will and pouring on my Madonna/Gwyneth faux English accent. “I thought I had the key in the boot, but the hubby here thinks we left it in the room when we went out for a pint.”

Will looked at me. “Cut it out,” he whispered.

“Blimey,” I continued, slapping a palm to my forehead. “I’d forget me head if it weren’t attached to me shoulders, that I would.”

The maid said nothing, but slipped her keycard into the lock. The little green light flashed and Will pushed open the door, smiling gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Pip-pip,” I called, waving.

Will pushed me into Harley’s room and slammed the door behind us. “‘Pip-pip’?” he mocked. “‘Blimey’? Where the hell did you get your English?”

I put my hands on my hips. “I was playing along, asshat. And now I’m wondering why.”

“What do you mean?”

I flicked on the light and Harley’s hotel room looked like every other hotel room in the Mark Hopkins hotel—elegant, lushly appointed, without a blood-written message alerting us to the room owner’s murderous desires.

“We’re here in Harley’s room. You know who’s not here? Harley. He’s probably out killing Nina as we speak.”

“This was your idea, love.”

I slumped on the bed. “I guess I didn’t really consider what would happen if we didn’t find Harley.”

“What were you planning if we would have found him?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Citizen’s arrest. Mythical ass kicking. Maybe get him vanquished by those sisters on Charmed ?”

Will sat down next to me and slung an arm over my shoulders; then handed me his cell phone. “There’s only one way to find out if Nina is safe tonight.”

I took the phone and dialed Nina’s, counting the rings.

“Wait a second,” Will said, ears pricking. “Listen.”

I pulled the phone from my ear and cocked my head. “Nina’s phone is ringing in stereo.”

“Wait a second,” I heard, “it’s my roommate.”

Will and I looked at each other. Nina’s voice was muffled, slightly. “Let me just turn this off,” Nina said.

The dial tone droned in my ear. “She just turned me off!”

Before I could continue my tirade, Will grabbed me by the wrist and hurled me to the floor.

“What—”

He clamped a hand over my mouth—hard—and slid with me under the bed. It was then I heard the lock jiggle and Nina’s voice came closer.

“They’re here!” I hissed in Will’s ear.

“Way to get in the game,” Will whispered back.

I watched Nina’s elegant heels walk across the surprisingly plush carpet; then I watched Harley’s polished wingtips follow. There was some murmured conversation; by the cadence and tone Harley and Nina were exchanging some grossly sexual banter. I looked at Will; my lip curled into a disgusted snarl. He waggled his eyebrows at me. If the intent was to be suggestive, it missed the mark and lodged securely in “ew.”