Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(39)

“A party,” Grant mused. Then he said with enthusiasm, “You know I don’t mind entertaining. You should have said right off that’s all you wanted.”

“Not all.” Pulling a small notebook from his pocket, Ross slid it across the table. “To Ms. Silver and anyone else who asks, I’m an upstanding fellow, someone you know well. I’ve jotted down the details of our association. Learn it. Don’t fuck it up. We’ll go over the more recent dates now to ensure we’re on the same page.” Ross couldn’t make up a story until he knew where Grant had been.

Grant toyed with the notebook. “Mind telling me why you’re doing this?”

Ross gave him his coldest stare. “You know better than to ask.”

Fresh terror pushed Grant back in his seat, but when Ross made no move toward him, he relaxed again. “This doesn’t sound bad at all. Throw a party, and fuck over that bitch, Sahara Silver.” He chuckled. “I call that a win-win.”

The ignorant bastard was too busy laughing to dodge Ross’s fist. And damn it all, he knocked him out. Actually, he knocked him out of his chair, too.

Ross stared down at the crumpled body on the floor, a purpling bruise already spreading over his jaw. He really needed to get a handle on his territorial instincts where Sahara was concerned.

Seeing her at the party would help, having the opportunity to speak with her, just be near her... He couldn’t wait to witness her expression when Douglas spun the carefully created fairy tale about their association. She’d realize that she couldn’t fight him, and then she’d realize the truth.

Eventually, she would be his.

*

EVEN THOUGH HE’D already learned every inch of the suite during his tour with Leese, Brand paced around, going from one room to the other.

He had to keep moving, otherwise he’d dwell on Sahara taking her bath. A “relaxing bubble bath” she’d said. As it was, his overactive libido kept picturing her stepping out of those sexy high heels, unzipping that slim-fitting skirt and slowly pushing it down over her shapely hips, then unbuttoning that silky blouse, one button at a time, until that, too, landed on the glossy tile floor.

Had she left her hair pinned up to keep it dry, or let it down so that it floated around her breasts in the water?

He drew a strained breath and went to stand before the windows overlooking the Ohio River. Lights on barges sent ribbons of colors to dance over the surface of the water.

How long was she going to be in there?

He withdrew his phone and again checked the time on the screen. Hell, wasn’t ninety minutes long enough?

He remembered that his mom, after her injury, would stay in the tub for an hour. But that was to treat her aches and pains, not just to soak.

Thinking that gave him an awful idea: did Sahara have any aches and pains?

She’d finished work a little after seven—late, in his opinion, especially considering how early she started. Instead of retiring to the suite then, she’d insisted on getting restaurant food, which had left him divided. He wanted to get it for her, but that would leave her alone, and taking her out of the agency left her susceptible to an attack.

Luckily, Leese answered when he called. He told Brand to go ahead and take her with him—as if either of them could have stopped her if that’s what she wanted to do. Then Leese spoke with Sahara, who very reasonably agreed that it wouldn’t hurt to have one of the guards from the agency follow behind at a discreet distance.

It didn’t surprise Brand that everyone in her employ appeared to adore her. They wanted to protect her, not because she was the boss but because they cared.

Sahara was that kind of person, the kind who got involved, who listened, who understood. She valued everyone who worked for her, from the maintenance crew to the bodyguards to her personal assistant—and they all knew it.

Leaving the window, Brand strode down the hall, pausing by the bedroom door. She’d left it open, but had closed the door to the connecting bath. On the nightstand next to the bed was the weapon she’d made. She’d replaced the bra around the handle with some other material.

The real surprise was that she hadn’t taken it into the bathroom with her.

Shaking his head, he surveyed the room.

He’d expected her to choose the master bedroom, but instead she’d put her things in the guest bedroom. He assumed the idea of using her brother’s room left her uncomfortable.

Or maybe she figured Scott would return any day now, and she didn’t want to intrude on his space.

It was damned heartbreaking, the way she clung to hope.

He checked the time on his phone again, then went through the bedroom to the bathroom door. “Sahara.”

No answer.

After going out for food and eating it in the suite, combined with her extended bath, it was now past ten o’clock. They were supposed to talk about their relationship...and didn’t he sound just like a chick? Disgusted, he rapped his knuckles against the door. “Sahara?”

Nothing.

She had to be exhausted. It was too late now for an in-depth discussion when most of all she needed sleep.

But her silence bothered him.

He couldn’t think of any injuries she’d had, but what if she hadn’t told the whole story about her kidnapping? What if that bastard had hurt her?

She could be in there quietly crying.