She put the phone back to her ear. “I’mnot. And even if I was paranoid, I have a good reason for it.” She scanned the area around her. “If it’s not my phone, where’s my security detail?” She gave up all hopes that this trip would be like last year’s.
Alan mumbled something to the side. A tall Asian man standing outside a cafe ahead of her raised a hand and tipped his head toward her. Shelby continued to scan the area, stopping on a Hispanic woman a few paces back who also had a hand raised.
“Twothis time?” She changed her direction toward the Grantham Industries building and started walking.
“That I’ll let identify themselves.” Alan’s tone took on a flatness she’d come to understand meant worry. “There have been threats.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and it took effort not to look around again. She knew better than to ask for details, but she couldn’t help wondering if the threat targeted her specifically. One more negative to being Charles Grantham’s daughter.
“Am I still going to have guards when I leave?” She continued to walk.
“They’re security, not guards.”
“Bodyguards?”
Alan let out a deep breath. “All right. Bodyguards. I really am sorry, but yes.”
So shewasthe target. Terrific. “Where is he sending me this time?”
“Off the coast of sunny Southern California. Now don’t ask any more questions. Your father wants you to meet someone you’ll be working with on this assignment.” Alan paused for a second before lowering his voice. “It’s a big one. I think it could beyourbig one. Talk to you in a few.” He disconnected.
Herbig one. Shelby quickened her pace. When she’d graduated from college, she’d never intended to work for her father. Alan had talked her into it with a promise of good assignments, ones to help her grow her reputation as a project manager faster than she’d likely have been able to do herself.
Her father had directed her jobs, each one increasing in complexity and the amount of responsibility. She’d even been approached by a couple of companies, enough to give her confidence to send out résumés. She’d been waiting a long time to tell her father what he could do with this job.
By the time she reached where the Asian guard had been, he’d merged into the crowd of people on the sidewalk. She moved faster until she walked alongside him. “If you’re going to be part of the detail for the next project, we might as well introduce ourselves. You already know who I am. What’s your name?”
“It rather defeats the purpose if people know where your bodyguards are, Ms. Grantham.” The Asian man continued to walk and did not turn his head toward her.
“My name is Nash.” She didn’t try to keep the venom from her tone. “Nash.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” Even though he didn’t add “Ms. Grantham,” his tone conveyed the words.
“Fine. I guess I’ll be seeing you around then.” Shelby slowed her pace, steaming.
She waited until the man had reached the middle of the street before slipping into a little shop. The proprietor, an older woman with Slavic features, perked up, but Shelby put a finger to her lips.
“I think there’s a creepy guy following me,” she whispered, ducking behind a display rack.
“I call cops?” The woman reached for her phone.
“No cops. It might be nothing.” Shelby scanned the back of the crowded little grocery store. The place must have a way to receive deliveries. “Do you have a back door?”
“Yes, yes. This way.” The old woman moved as though to lead the way.
“There he is,” Shelby hissed, pointing to the door as she squatted down. He’d reacted even faster than she’d expected. Had the woman guard seen?
The shop’s little bell rang as the door opened. Shelby hoped no parts of her were visible. How embarrassing to be caught hiding. Maybe she could pretend to be looking for something on the bottom shelf. She scanned the words on the glass bottles, but they were in another language; she had no idea what they meant.
“I help you, mister?” The woman hurried toward the door, waving her hand behind her.
If the store had a back door, the merchandise hid it well. The muscles in Shelby’s knees started to burn, and she already regretted her impromptu rebellion. It was her own fault; she knew better than to let her father get to her.
“Did a young woman come in here?” the guard asked. “Medium height, brown hair with a red streak in the front? Wearing a black jacket?”
“No,” the shopkeeper said. “See. No one here.”
“You’re sure?” His tone had taken on a menacing edge. Shelby didn’t have to struggle to imagine what his expression must look like. She’d need to buy something to make up for being a bother to the old woman.
