What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(72)

There’d also been men during her college years. A few lovers, several friends, and two professors who had been her mentors.

Again, it was impossible to think of them as psychotic killers.

She’d moved to stare out the window when Griff broke the silence that filled the hotel room.

“I got it,” he said, leaning toward the computer screen.

Carmen’s heart skidded to a halt. Was it possible they had caught the killer on camera? That this might all be over?

She hurried to stand directly behind Griff, leaning over his shoulder as he replayed the security footage to share what he’d seen.

The image of the hallway outside her hotel room came into focus, the camera obviously hidden in the ceiling only a few feet from her door. The video ran for a few minutes without any movement, and then a shadow fell across the carpeted floor.

Carmen leaned even closer, her hands grabbing Griff ’s upper arms to keep her balance. On some level she was aware of the hard muscles beneath her fingers, and the intoxicating scent of his male cologne, but her focus remained centered on the video.

The shadow lengthened, a pair of shiny, black leather shoes appearing first, followed by long legs covered by black slacks and then a uniformed jacket. Seconds later, the young man was in full view of the camera as he halted in front of her door.

The man looked from left to right before he squatted down and shoved something under the door.

The postcard, Carmen acknowledged. It had to be.

With another quick glance to see if he was still alone, the man straightened and hurried back down the hallway, turning the corner and going out of the range of the camera.

Carmen frowned. The man’s round face and shaggy brown hair seemed vaguely familiar. As if she’d recently passed him in the street. But he certainly wasn’t someone she actually knew. Not now, and not in the past.

She would swear to that.

Her breath hissed between her clenched teeth. The video had just created more questions than answers.

“He’s one of the porters,” Griff said, rewinding the video once again to study the man. He pointed toward the fitted jacket with the hotel emblem stitched onto the lapel.

Carmen straightened and stepped back, disappointment curdling through her. “That’s why he seemed familiar.”

Griff abruptly rose to his feet, turning to face her with a grim expression.

“I saw him when we first checked in and then again in the lobby when we arrived tonight,” he said. “I’m going to have a word with him. You stay here and lock the door behind me.”

He was headed toward the door with long strides. Carmen briefly considered going with him. Griff wouldn’t be happy, but he couldn’t actually force her to stay behind.

Then she gave a shake of her head. Griff was capable of tracking down the young man without her assistance. And she suspected that he might use more than his winning personality to get the information he wanted. She wouldn’t be much help in a physical confrontation.

Besides, she had things to do.

Whatever they did or didn’t discover from the porter, she was convinced that at least one of the killers intended to follow in the footsteps of the Morning Star. Which meant that he was headed to the West Coast.

With a flurry of activity, Carmen locked the door and then moved through the hotel suite, packing her clothes and then heading into Griff ’s bedroom to gather his belongings. They were both in need of a laundromat, or a shopping mall, but for now she was more interested in heading to the airport.

She was finished and had returned to her task of pacing the carpet when she at last heard a soft tap on the door. She hurried forward, taking the time to check through the peephole to make sure it was Griff on the other side.

Clicking back the deadbolt, she waited for him to walk past her, his bleak expression revealing that the meeting hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped.

Still, she had to know. “What happened?”

Griff turned to face her, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans.

“He denied knowing what I was talking about, at least until I threatened to haul him to the security office,” he said, his dark eyes burning with a smoldering fury.

Carmen studied his lean face, a strange pang tugging at her heart. It was more than just his sheer male beauty. It was the fierce determination that was etched in his features and the clenched muscles of his hard body.

In just a few short days this man had become her rock, her self-appointed protector. Someone she could depend on after years of being on her own.

The question that whispered in the back of her mind was whether he would still be there after the danger was gone.

“And then?” She forced herself to concentrate on far more important matters.

“Then the porter admitted that some man approached him when he was taking his cigarette break. I guess the management doesn’t let the employees smoke near the hotel, so he always goes to the parking lot down the street,” Griff said. “The man paid him fifty bucks to slide the postcard beneath the door. He didn’t see any harm in it, so he took the money.”

“Did he get a description?”

Griff shrugged. “Medium height, wearing a long trench coat with a scarf around his neck and a hat.”

“Of course he was.” Carmen rolled her eyes. She felt more resigned than disappointed. She’d already prepared herself for the fact that the killer was too clever to reveal his identity to the hotel porter. “He couldn’t tell you anything helpful?”