ONE
WYATT
I’ve been at my desk for all of ten minutes when Liam, the general manager at Maddigan’s Resort and Spa, walks into my office. Despite my open-door policy, he’s tapped briefly as a courtesy before entering.
There’s no need for him to speak. I can already sense something is off. It’s enough to see me closing my laptop and giving him my full attention.
“What’s up?”
Liam makes himself comfortable in my visitor’s chair before he speaks, and even then his words are halting. “We’ve got a celebrity on the third floor.”
I nod; knowing exactly who he’s talking about. It’s my job to know, despite them wanting to keep a low profile. It’s an interesting approach for a woman as happy to flash skin as this one.
I don’t even need to shut my eyes to see that cover of Sports Fan Magazine in all its glory. That was one smoking photograph. Look at it long enough and I’d need a bucket of cold water tossed over me before I could think straight.
“Phoebe Jackson?”
Liam tips his head before pressing on. “Yeah, well, she seems to think there’s someone in the hotel out to get her.” His expression says he doesn’t share the woman’s concerns.
Meanwhile, I sit taller in my seat, my scalp prickling. Unlike Liam, I’ve had first-hand experience of a woman sensing someone wanted to hurt her. There wasn’t a chance I’d let it slide.
I also want to do the best job possible for Liam. He’d been the first person to see beyond my tattoos and my past, and to give me a chance to prove myself.
Unlike the old general manager, Liam is a born leader; loyalty earned, not demanded.
“I’ll go check on her.”
Liam gets slowly to his feet. “Just fit it in whenever you can. With our security set up, I’m sure she’s imagining things. You know how these celebs can be.”
“It’s all good. I’ll head up there now.”
Soon after, I’ve used my keycard to access the service stairs and am on my way to the third floor. It’s unusual to find a celebrity on this floor. Their preference being the penthouse, as they believe, is their right.
And because our guest is in room 320 at the end of the hallway, the stairs will exit just across from it. It’s thanks to the glass panel in the door that I see the guy loitering outside the room.
He isn’t doing anything, just standing there. And yet it’s enough to have my scalp prickling as it had when Liam briefed me on the job. Even back when I’d been a bouncer, I knew shady behavior when I saw it.
Unfortunately, on my opening the door, the guy doesn’t wait to chat.
He immediately walks off, his pace neither too fast nor too slow, and his head angled down. Again, it’s not enough to make it obvious, just enough to hide his features from me and any security cameras.
Out in the hallway, I’m ready to press the talk button on the radio attached to my belt. Rather than make the call immediately, I wait until the elevator doors close. On pressing a button on the radio, I’m connected to the main control room.
“Copy!” comes the response through my earpiece.
“Simon, can you get screen grabs from the security cameras in elevator 4B?”
There’s no need to add it’s urgent. Simon and I have worked together long enough that he knows that if I’m asking, it’s important.
“On it.”
“Great, send them to my phone.”
Not a minute has passed when my phone pings in my pocket.
Human nature says the mystery guy will have looked up once the elevator doors closed. Most people do. And yet, the images Simon has fired through are from the camera at the bottom of the control panel rather than the one near the ceiling.
This confirms the guy was up to no good. No-one gets in an elevator and keeps their chin tucked into their chest like that, only the guilty. It was the reason I’d had the low-level cameras fitted when I took over security.
