After the bill was paid, she and Logan drove back to the hotel. Logan headed toward the bar. “Want a nightcap?” he asked.
“Nope. I didn’t sleep so well last night. I’m exhausted.”
As they stood there talking, the hairs on the back of Baylee’s neck crept up. An ominous feeling enveloped her. She glanced around quickly, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“Well, I’m going in. See you in the morning,” Logan said.
“Night,” Baylee replied.
Logan disappeared into the bar, and again, she sensed someone watching her. Trying to shrug off the uneasy feeling weaving its way through her body, she scanned the lobby again, her blood pumping fiercely. Over to the right, behind the thick marble pillar, a flash of khaki caught her eye. Someone was hiding behind the pillar. She knew it, felt it—she wasn’t imagining it. A group of people came into the lobby, chattering and laughing while they headed to the elevators. Baylee rushed to follow and blend in with them.
As they waited for the elevator, from the corner of her eye, Baylee noticed someone come from behind the pillar. She turned her head enough so she could see him. He was a tall, lean man in his late forties, wearing khaki pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He walked slowly toward the elevators.
Right before the door opened, one of the women in the group said, “It’s too damn early to turn in. Let’s get a drink in the bar.”
Her other companions readily agreed. Then they were gone, and Baylee, who seconds before was surrounded by people, was completely alone, exposed and vulnerable. The elevator door opened and she jumped in, pushing the number for her floor then the “close door” button frantically. Her pulse raced. The door has to close. Now.
The elevator started closing, and Baylee leaned against the cool, smoky-colored mirrored wall, letting out a relieved breath. She was safe. The door nearly shut, a hand slipped in, and it bounced open once more. The piercing gaze of the man behind the pillar locked on to hers.
“Oh,” she said aloud as her heart fell into the pit of her stomach.
The man stepped inside.
Chapter Nine
A burst of adrenaline kicked in, and Baylee sprung past the man. Before he could react, the elevator door shut. She stood frozen, fixated on the closed shiny door. Was the man meaning to harm her, or did she overreact? Her instincts told her he was following her, watching her. The thought of someone targeting her scared the hell out of her.
She debated taking the stairwell, but decided against it. Tears stung her eyes as she stood motionless, not knowing what to do. The elevator bell rang, and her racing heart felt as though it would explode right out of her chest. Her leg muscles tightened, and she sprinted away before the doors opened and the man came out.
Dashing into the bar, she searched the room for a place to hide.
“Baylee,” Logan called as he waved her over to his table.
For the first time since she’d worked with him, she was happy to see him. She walked over to his table and took the seat across from him, so she could see the lobby. The waitress took her order and, in less than a minute, the scorching warmth of brandy burned down Baylee’s throat.
“Did you change your mind about having a drink?”
She placed the brandy snifter on the wood table. “Yes.” Scanning the bar, she said, “It’s nice in here. Looks very rustic and inviting. I bet the stone fireplace gives a lot of heat in the winter. It’s huge.” She stared at the massive fireplace that filled the entire back wall.
Logan agreed, then began rambling about the project and what they needed to do. As he droned on, Baylee tuned him out, her pulse racing each time the elevator doors opened. Then she spotted him, coming out of the elevator, moving his head all around. He was looking for her. A chill snaked its way down her back, and she shifted in her chair so Logan blocked her. She silently prayed that the man wouldn’t come into the bar.
Her prayer went unanswered.
When he entered, Baylee bent down, pretending to pick something off the floor. She watched his brown loafers as they took a few steps, hesitated, then retreated. Slowly, she sat up, observing him as he left the hotel, his cell phone next to his ear and his mouth moving. A sigh of relief washed over her.
“Are you okay? You look real pale, all of a sudden,” Logan said.
She laughed nervously. “It must be the brandy. Alcohol and exhaustion never mix well for me.” The back of her neck ached, and she rubbed it.
Logan finished his drink. “Are you ready to go up?”
“Yes. Are you coming?”
“Yeah, I’ll go with you.”
They rode up the elevator in silence, and when he walked her to her room, she was grateful. “Thanks for seeing me to my door. Goodnight.”