“Your phones are clear and so are both of your suites,” the slender man sent by Ryker’s attorney says. “That means someone is carrying a recorder on their person, or planting it and removing it right away.”
Ryker and Leah are huddled on the couch, clutching cups of coffee in their hands. Adam is on the opposite couch next to me, drinking a cup of tea. Ryker called Adam and told him to get his ass over to the hotel ASAP, wanting him here in case he had any kind of surveillance on him. He didn’t. I, of course, am holding my giant cup of coffee like it’s my only hope for survival, which, at this point, it probably is.
“No one has been in the room with me,” I say.
“Then it’s someone on the hotel staff,” former MI6 agent Wilson says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and leaning forward in his chair. He declined any food or drink we offered, instead scribbling notes on a small leather bound pad. He reminds me of the detective from the hospital after the attack. I shiver and clutch my coffee even tighter. Adam gives me a weird look out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t say anything.
“But I’ve been in three different hotels,” I whine. “They can’t have a spy in each hotel. It would be too coincidental.”
“There are no coincidences, Miss Tannen. If the articles you showed me all came the day after you had a private conversation in a hotel suite, then someone is taping you and removing the evidence that same day.”
“How do we catch them?” Leah asks. “That’s all I really care about. Getting the assholes that think it’s okay to invade people’s privacy and spill their secrets and personal problems for everyone to see.” Her tiny mouth curves down into a frown.
“I’ll have to get the equipment to give you, but basically you’re going to sweep your rooms every couple of hours until we catch them,” Wilson responds.
“Every couple of hours!” Ryker yells. “I can’t remember to do that!”
Leah puts her hand on his arm. “I’ll do it, don’t worry.” He smiles and kisses her, totally placated by Leah. At least someone is happy around here.
“I’m going to go then,” I say as I stand up. “Thanks for coming Agent, uh, Mr. Wilson.” He stands with me and shakes my hand. “I’ll stop by later to get the scanning thingy Leah. Bye Ryker, Adam.” I turn to wave to Adam and find him following me to the door.
“I’m heading out too,” he says. “I really don’t think that anyone is bugging me. I’m just not all that interesting.” Adam grins as we leave the suite.
I smile back. “I don’t know, CelebCast seems to find you very interesting.”
“Yes, but only in reference to you it seems.” He leans a little closer and places an arm on the wall next to me. Now that we’re in the hallway waiting for the elevator, he’s staring at me from under his thick black lashes.
This is the first time he’s worn short sleeves in front of me. I glance over and can see the rest of the mysterious tattoo that peeks out from his winter clothes. He has a beautiful, intricate black tribal design spiraling around one entire arm from his wrist to up inside his T-shirt. His tattoo, and his gorgeous face are only an inch from mine, it’s making it difficult to concentrate.
That tattoo is pretty freaking hot.
I need to get out of here.
“Ummm, I’m only two flights down. So, uh, I’m just going to take the stairs.”
Humiliated, I squeeze past Adam and duck through the stairwell door, leaving him standing there alone, thinking I’m crazy. Or he’s thinking that he was affecting me, which he totally was.
I close the door to my suite and lock all of the latches. Running around the rooms, I check once more for anything out of place. After twenty minutes of searching and coming up empty, I allow myself to flop belly first onto the bed and sleep.
****
“I hate Jason Bennett!” I scream as I stomp into the house and over to the huge kitchen.
“Sydney, don’t say such ugly things,” cautions Anna, our housekeeper.
“Well I do hate him! He’s a mean jerk and a bully!” I shriek, slamming the refrigerator and running up to my room.
I lie on my bed and cry into my favorite pillow, the one that I curl up with every night when being alone in this big empty house scares me. I’m not really ever alone, if you count Anna, or Robbie my Mommy’s bodyguard, or the four guys that monitor the front gate, or the rotation of live-in nannies that come and go every so often, or all of the other people who work here. But even though there are people around, I always feel alone and I’m pretty much always afraid. I’m ten years old and I live by myself in constant fear.