Page 14 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“Gwen?” came Lance’s voice from the phone.

“Yeah?”

“I’m on my way up.”

“Okay.” I hurried to the door and pressed my face against it, watching through the peephole. I heard his footsteps, loud and fast, before I spotted him running to my door. I swung it open as he arrived and threw my arms around him. The tears broke free the second my head hit his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and backed me into the room. “Hey. I’ve got you. What happened?”

“Someone was in my room, Lance.” I clung to him as we moved through the room. “They took my laptop and went through my stuff.”

“Sit down.” He eased me onto the edge of the bed and crouched in front of me. “When did you get back?”

“Ten minutes ago? The bathroom light was on, and I had a feeling.” I wiped my face with my hands, and the room came back into focus.

Arthur filled the doorframe. What was he doing here? His gaze swept the room like he’d done at Ferraro’s, but this time, it didn’t stop on me. He reached under his jacket and drew a handgun, causing every nerve in my body to light up. “You got her?”

“I do,” said Lance.

I couldn’t let Arthur see me like this. I rubbed at the tears on my cheeks, then under my eyes to clear any smudged mascara.

“He was driving me home and wanted to come up when you called.” Lance stroked my knee while Arthur flowed through the room like he’d been there a thousand times.

Bathroom first. Behind the door. Behind the shower curtain. Inside the closet. Behind the curtains. He angled sideways at the few corners, weapon leading. I sat on the bed, unable to move, as a man secured my hotel room with the same smooth movements I’d only ever seen in movies.

“Clear.” He holstered the gun and said to me, “Did you touch anything?”

“The phone.” I pointed at the receiver I’d left on the desk. “I disconnected it and used it to…”

Oh my god. I’d used a plastic phone receiver to check for intruders, which he had just done with a gun. What had I been thinking?

He nodded once, even though I didn’t finish my pathetic explanation. “I spoke to the evening manager on my way up. They’ll pull security footage and access logs for the police. You did call 9-1-1, right?”

“No.” Heat rose up my cheeks, and I squeaked out, “I called Lance.”

He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, dialed, and held it out to me. “Tell them what happened.”

I took the phone and let my head roll forward while I talked. The 9-1-1 operator walked me through the basics, while Lance settled on the bed next to me.

“Are you safe?” she asked me after we’d gone through everything.

I stared at the carpet, the panic and adrenaline finally ebbing. Lance’s hand smoothed up and down my back, while Arthur’s brown dress shoes paced the floor. They were a stunning cognac brown, square-toed, with a dark patina where the upper met the sole. They were the shoes of the man I’d sat next to for dinner, who’d come when I’d called his friend for help, not the mercenary or the rich man’s son the article said he was.

Safe? I was probably safer in this moment than I’d ever been in my life. “Yeah, I’m safe.”

“The police will be there in a few minutes. Do you need me to stay on the line with you?”

“No. I’m okay. I have security with me.” We said goodbye, and I hung up. “The police will be here soon.”

“Good.” Arthur approached me, his big hand out for his phone. “Walk me through what’s missing.”

“My laptop?” Why did that sound like a question? I stood, my legs unsteady. You’ve got this, Gwen. Take a breath. “It was on the desk.”

“What else?”

I crossed to my open suitcase and picked up my jewelry roll, which was sitting on top. My grandmother’s pearls were gone. The gold bracelet my mother had given me for my thirtieth birthday. A pair of diamond studs.

“Jewelry,” I said, and my voice cracked. “The most expensive pieces.”