Hello? Are you in need of assistance?
The car’s engine cut. The window began to roll down smooth as silk, the car a fantastic new Bentley sedan. From the dim interior came a rolling basso laugh as Layla stepped back, removing her phone from the window. Presently, she saw a big black guy, a good-sized diamond in his ear, dressed in a snappy charcoal suit with a crimson tie. The one and only John LeVeque. Pulling off sleek sunglasses as he chuckled, he looked at her, then gestured with the sunglasses.
“You’ve got some spirit, Ms. Price, I’ll give you that.” John’s voice was deep and pleasant, his rolling Southern accent holding a hint of laughter.
“You!” Layla hissed, fury cascading through her – and a bit of excitement to discover who had been tailing her. “Why are you following me again?”
“Because when Mr. Rhakvir gives me an assignment, I stick to it. You remember Mr. Rhakvir. Gave you an antique Moroccan wrist-cuff a few weeks back? Took you to dinner and gave you hispersonalcredit card, which you flagrantly charged everyone’s meals to and then chucked in the trash? Sent me to contact you at Havana and nearly caused a scene with your over-protective boyfriend?”
Hello? 911, what’s your emergency?
Layla stiffened. Her hand paused, and then her thumb hit the disconnect button on her phone’s touchscreen. “What’s his first name, your employer?”
“Adrian.” John laughed, rolling and low. “Adrian Rhakvir.”
“So he sent you to follow me? Again.” Layla growled, crossing her arms and tapping one foot on the sidewalk. She was so getting to the bottom of this, right here, right now.
Though something inside her thrilled at having her mystery guy’s full name now.
Adrian Rhakvir.
“Security is what I do, Ms. Price.” John chuckled, then gave her a very direct look. “After your date at the restaurant, Mr. Rhakvir was concerned for your welfare. He had a…detractor… tailing him that evening, and wasn’t aware of it until you both sat down to talk. He immensely regrets having to leave so abruptly. Trust me, he wanted to tell you far more about himself and the Hotel. When you turned down the Hotel’s offer, he set me to watch you, and then to make contact again at the club. I haven’t stopped following you for five weeks, not for long. Like I said, security is what I do. And when Mr. Rhakvir is paying, I do my jobreallywell.”
“So why isn’t he here explaining all this?” Layla bit tersely, her head whirling with the sudden revelations. Again, Layla had the feeling she was being told the truth, like Adrian had told her at the restaurant, but not all of it. There were secrets here and she was going to get some answers, even if she had to call the police to do it.
“Mr. Rhakvir is traveling at the moment. Internationally. If I may?” John gestured to a parking spot just ahead and Layla stepped back. Turning the car back on, he pulled smoothly into the spot and cut the engine, then opened the driver-side door and stepped out. All muscle and not much else, he was huge, over six-foot and built like a linebacker. But his suit fit with a trim elegance on all that hard muscle, and as he shut the car door and leaned back on it, hands clasped casually like any bouncer or security personnel, Layla began to feel more at ease, just as she had at the club.
“So you’re his bodyguard.”
“Mr. Rhakvir doesn’t need personal security for himself. Just for those he wishes to protect.”
Layla lifted an eyebrow, shifting her stance. Arms still crossed and standing on the sidewalk a good eight feet from the big man, she gave him a chilly eyeball. “You were the one who came to the house – after I applied to the Red Letter Hotel. How did you get my home address, and how did the Hotel respond to my application so fast?”
“Mr. Rhakvir pays intelligent people on his security detail,” John gave a winning smile, amused. “He gets a lot of accurate information. As for the Hotel, you were pre-screened for the position, Ms. Price. Pre-approved some weeks before Adrian made contact with you.”
“He’s been spying on me.” Layla set her jaw, not impressed with the direction this was taking.
“He’s beeninvestigatingyou, Ms. Price.” John countered, level with her. “Anyone even considered for a position at the Red Letter Hotel chain gets a thorough background check. Thorough. We know you fell off your red Schwinn bicycle when you were five and split your chin open and needed stitches. We know you had a puppy at age seven named Spyder that ate rat poison and had to be put down. We know every detail about your high school excellency and your college agenda, and how you were determined to join international politics until you were derailed by a rejection from the U.N. just a few months ago. We know that you’ve been sinking ever since – and you need a change of pace.”
Layla’s mouth hung open. She blinked at the big man, wondering if she should be terrified or impressed. Part of her screamedrun, but the other part wanted this mystery of Adrian Rhakvir and his elite hotel solved.
Not to mention how it all connected to Layla and the Moroccan hamsa-cuff.
“What’s this all about?” She spoke, ready to listen.
John smiled, kind and patient. “Mr. Rhakvir is in a precarious position with his ownership in the Hotel.” He began. “He needs an eye on the inside, and he has profiledyouas his perfect liaison. Actually, he’s been hoping to meet you for some time now. Though strangely enough, his encounter with you at the gallery was entirely kismet. He didn’t go there to meet up with you, Ms. Price, only to view the exhibition. Though he knew your schedule at the bar, he didn’t know you’d be at the art show. But he seized the moment, even though he couldn’t ensure privacy for your conversation – and again, he sends his deepest apologies for how that evening turned out.”
Layla paused, watching the big man. She didn’t see any lie in his eyes, and she had an excellent nose for bullshit. Even when Gavin had been sleeping around on her she’d known, it had just taken a big blowout to finally wrest a confession out of him.
“So why does Adrian Rhakvir want me in this position?” She spoke, still listening.
“Intelligence.” John spoke promptly. “Heritage. Focus. Adaptability under stress. Excellency in everything that you do. These features are required of anyone who works at the Hotel, and are hard to come by. You hold these qualities in spades, Ms. Price. And it is for these very qualities that Mr. Rhakvir has been searching, for a while now.”
“And my temper?” Layla sassed. Though John had listed her positive assets, he’d missed one big, glaring detractor.
“Believe me,” he eyeballed her, “your temper will come in handy at the Hotel. It is part of who you are, Ms. Price. And if you’d open up to that, let yourselffeelit, you might find that you can make it serve you rather than derail your life. Pushovers do very badly at the Hotel. Dominants make waves. If you catch my drift.”
“Mr. Rhakvir wants me to do this job specifically because of my temper?” Layla’s eyebrows climbed her forehead.
