The EMTs continued checking me over—asking about dizziness, pain levels, and whether I wanted to go to the hospital. After I assured them I was fine and didn’t need any further medical attention, they left.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the man I’d crashed into when I ran out of my suite standing near the window, speaking quietly into his phone. I briefly recalled him saying he was with the Secret Service and showing me his credentials, but that didn’t make sense. I’d signed off on my security detail specifically for this trip.
When he ended the call, he walked over to us. “Ms. Donnelley, we didn’t get a chance to meet officially. I’m Agent Michael Webster with the United States Secret Service. I’m based here in our Las Vegas field office.”
I nodded, even though my mind was spinning.
“More agents are on their way up,” he continued. “In the meantime, we need to discuss the next steps.”
I took a breath. “Like what?”
“For now, you need to stay here. This room is secure, and we’ll have agents inside and outside. As soon as we can arrange to move you out of Las Vegas, you and I will head back to D.C.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I don’t want to leave.”
The guys and I were supposed to have one more day in Sin City before going our separate ways yet again, and I didn’t want to leave them any earlier than we’d planned.
He nodded. “I understand, but until we know for certain this was an isolated incident, Las Vegas isn’t a controlled environment.”
“But Callum’s been arrested,” Dylan argued.
“Yes,” Agent Webster replied. “But there’s a lot we don’t know yet, including how he knew where you were.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
Jase’s jaw clenched. “Do you think someone helped him?”
“I think it’s something we need to rule out,” Agent Webster explained.
A moment later, another knock came at the door, and Webster opened it to a woman who stepped in, flashing credentials as she closed it behind her.
“Agent Torres,” she introduced herself. “Vegas Field Office. I’ll be staying in the room with you.”
I nodded because it didn’t sound like I had a choice in the matter.
Webster turned back to me. “You should call your father. That’s who I was speaking to a minute ago, and I told him the paramedics were still checking you out.”
I stiffened. “He knows?”
“He was notified as soon as we got you secured.”
Of course, he was.
Agent Webster handed me my phone. He must have taken it from my room because I didn’t remember grabbing it.
I selected my dad’s contact, and he answered right away. “Faye, are you okay?” He skipped his usual greeting.
“I’ve been worried sick,” Mom added, letting me know he had me on speakerphone.
Tears pricked my eyes as I heard the panic in their voices. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Thank God,” Mom breathed. “I can’t believe Senator Whitmore’s son would do something so horrible.”
“Me neither,” I agreed, shivering as I thought how much worse it could have been. I let out a long breath, then asked the question that was confusing me. “Dad, why is there an agent here at the hotel?”
There was a pause on the line, then he sighed. “Because I sent him.”
“What?” I balked. “Why? I signed off on my detail.”
