Hansen helped her carry her bags upstairs. Thankfully, they hadn’t dropped them off at the hotel earlier. The last room on the left was clearly the master suite and his, so she chose the one directly across from it. The walls were a soft baby blue that matched the bedspread. It wasn’t as frilly as the hotel room, but it still had that air of money about it, including an en suite bathroom that had a large shower and a soaker tub. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked it.
Since she’d only brought a week’s worth of clothing with her, it didn’t take her long to unpack. They were on their way downstairs within twenty minutes. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, they heard voices. Each glanced at the other before reaching for their guns and edging down the last remaining steps.
Rounding the corner, they saw a man talking with Daniels. He appeared to be about her height, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up fashionably and neatly pressed pants. He didn’t look threatening, so they both holstered their guns and stepped into the room.
Before they made it more than a few feet, the new arrival noticed their entrance and was quickly racing toward them. Correction. He was racing toward her.
“Oh! This must be her,” he gushed. “I see what you mean. I can definitely help.” Before she knew what was going on, he was reaching for her suit jacket, trying to remove it.
She reacted instinctively before thinking it through. Within seconds, the man was bent over the kitchen island with his arm pulled tight and high along his back.
“What in the world are you doing?” Daniels demanded.
“Jeez, lady. Relax. This is Charlie, my stylist.”
Glancing down at what she then realized were his designer clothes, Rebecca conceded she might have overreacted a bit. She wasn’t used to people grabbing at her and trying to remove her clothes like that. She stepped back, releasing him. “Sorry,” she said. “Just please don’t try to remove my clothing without asking first.”
“Got it. No problem,” he said, glancing between her and Daniels.
Hansen recovered faster than the rest of them. “What’s he doing here?” he asked, nodding at Charlie.
“My girlfriend is going to need some new clothing if she’s going to be out in public with me. Outfits like that,” he pointed at the suit she was wearing, “won’t do.”
“And what exactly is wrong with my clothing?”
“Honey,” he said, walking up, getting way too close for her comfort. “The places I go? You’ll stick out like a sore thumb in an outfit like that.” Then he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Or do you want everyone to know you’re my bodyguard?”
Get Red Zone
