Stranded With The Suspect

The blond tensed, one hand slipping inside his jacket. “Who are you?”

“Are you going to shoot me right here in this bar because I made a simple remark?” Simon kept his voice even as he turned to accept the beer from the bartender, who flicked a glance at the blond.

The blond brought his hand back out in the open and nodded to the bartender. “My friend thinks he’s so funny,” he said, his English very good, but definitely with a hint of a Russian accent.

The blond waited until the bartender had walked away before he spoke again, keeping his hands outside his coat. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“I’m a friend of Ms. Matheson’s,” Simon said. “Who are you?”

“You’re the man in the elevator.” Understanding lit his eyes.

“Who are you and what do you want with her?” Simon asked.

“I am also a friend.”

“That’s not what she says. She says she never saw you before.”

“She doesn’t remember.” He sipped his drink—something dark and thick in a small glass. “It was at a party, with a lot of people.”

“When? Where?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“It’s my business to be interested.”

The blond studied Simon more closely. He tensed again, eyes narrowed. “You’re a cop,” he said.

Simon didn’t deny or confirm, but met the blond’s glare with a hard look of his own.

“I don’t like cops,” the blond said.

“I don’t like people who bother Ms. Matheson. She said you asked her about Daniel Metwater.”

The blond contemplated the liquid in the glass. “Her boyfriend. He’s putting her up here, isn’t he?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I have a connection at the front desk.” He cut his eyes to Simon, his expression wary. “Are you after her for something—or is it Metwater you want?”

“Right now, I’m interested in you.”

“I’m a man having a drink in a public bar.” He drained his glass and set it down on the bar with a hard thunk. He pulled a heavy gold money clip from his pocket, peeled off a twenty and laid it on the bar. “Good night.”

“Leave Ms. Matheson alone,” Simon said.

“Watch your back,” the blond said softly, but loud enough for Simon to hear.

Simon started after him, only to be blocked by a group of men and women who pushed toward the bar. By the time he got free, he reached the door just in time to see the blond pushing through the glass doors of the hotel lobby to the street.

Simon returned to the bar and paid for his beer, then walked back into the lobby. A quick scan satisfied him that the blond hadn’t returned. But Simon had added the Russian to the short list of people who might be a danger to Andi.

He made his way back to the fourteenth floor and the room two doors down from Andi’s. His bosses were going to scream when they got the bill for the suite, but it couldn’t be helped. If Daniel Metwater—or the Russian—tried to get to Andi, they would have to get past Simon first.

* * *

SIMON’S VISIT HAD banished all hope Andi had of resting. Not that she had been sleeping much lately anyway. She missed having other women around to talk to—that had been one of the best things about joining the Family. An only child, she had never realized how comforting it could be to have other women around you—sisters who understood your concerns and were always willing to listen or offer advice. Casual acquaintances you didn’t live with could never understand you as well as family. A check of the clock showed it was only eight thirty, so she dialed the number for her former tentmate at the Family’s camp, Starfall. She would have to remember to call her Michelle, now that she had left the group and decided to go by her birth name once more.

“Hello?” Michelle answered.

“Hi. It’s Andi.”

“What do you want?” Michelle’s voice wasn’t exactly angry, but it wasn’t friendly either.

Andi grimaced. She had forgotten that the two of them had argued the last time they had spoken. “I heard they found Hunter safe,” she said. “I wanted to tell you how glad I am about that.” Michelle must have been half-crazy with worry when her little boy disappeared.

“No thanks to Daniel Metwater,” Michelle said. “He was the one who hired the guys who kidnapped him. And then Metwater tried to kill me. He tried to kill Ethan too.”

So it was true. Not that Andi had really doubted Simon’s words. “I heard,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Who told you about it? You’re not with Metwater now, are you?”

“No, no. I haven’t seen or spoken to him. Simon Woolridge told me. He’s one of the officers with the Ranger Brigade.”

“I know Simon. When did you talk to him?”

“A little while ago. He came to Denver—I guess he’s hoping he’ll catch the Prophet when he comes to pick me up at the hotel. But I don’t think he’s coming. Why would he risk it?”

“Besides the fact that he thinks he can get away with anything?” Michelle asked.

“Why did he try to kill you?” Andi asked. “Why would he want to kidnap Hunter? None of that makes sense to me.”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said. “Most of what he said didn’t make sense—but Ethan thinks it’s because I know something that could get him into trouble.”

“Ethan is the officer who was helping you?” Andi asked.

“Yes. He’s been great.” Michelle’s voice softened, her tone almost wistful. “I can’t believe how great he’s been.”

“What does he think you know that could hurt the Prophet?” Andi asked.

“I wish I knew what it was—I’d shout it from the rooftops.”

“Simon says he thinks I must know something that could hurt Daniel, too,” Andi said. “That’s why he hid me away here in Denver.”

“So, what do you know?”

“Nothing. I swear. I can’t think of anything.”

“You spent the most time with him and were closest to him,” Michelle said. “I’ll bet you saw a lot of things you shouldn’t have.”

“No.” In spite of all the time they’d spent together, she really didn’t know much at all about Daniel Metwater. He had kept her ignorant, changing the subject whenever she asked about the past or his plans for the future, or even what he did in the hours she wasn’t with him. She knew only what he wanted her to know, and that wasn’t anything beyond his public image as a sincere, wise teacher and leader.

“Stay away from him, Andi,” Michelle said. “He wants people to think he’s good and has their best interests at heart, but that’s not true.”

“I’ll be careful,” Andi said.

“Stick with Simon,” Michelle said. “The Rangers had Metwater figured out a long time ago. I wish now we had listened to them.”

“It’s a little strange, hearing you, of all people, talking about trusting the cops,” Andi said. The Prophet had always taught that law enforcement officers were not their friends, and Michelle, who had apparently had her share of run-ins with the police, had agreed wholeheartedly with this assessment.

Michelle laughed. “And now I’m in love with one. I can hardly believe it myself.”

“I’m glad things are working out so well for you,” Andi said, ignoring the stab of jealousy that lanced through her. Michelle sounded so happy. As if she lived in some alternate universe different from the one Andi occupied. It didn’t even seem possible to be that happy in her world.

“Take care of yourself,” Michelle said. “And keep in touch. Let me know when your baby is born.”

“I will.” They said goodbye and Andi hung up the phone. She had hoped talking to a friend would soothe her, but the conversation had only reinforced the reasons she had to be worried and afraid. All this emotional upheaval couldn’t be good for the baby. She needed to find a way to stay calm.

She phoned room service and ordered a cup of warm milk. That had been her mother’s remedy when Andi struggled to get to sleep as a girl. She set down the phone, tears pricking her eyes at the memory of her mother. Cancer had taken her almost ten years ago. Everything had changed after that—Andi’s father had become more focused on his political career, more concerned with power and prestige than with his daughter, except when she could be an asset to his image.

If her mother had lived, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Andi wouldn’t have fallen for her father’s bodyguard—a man who turned out to be married. Already pregnant, Andi had discovered the bodyguard’s deception and her father’s corruption. Wanting to escape the dishonesty and shallowness of her life, she had found solace in the teachings of Daniel Metwater. She was sure he was a man she could respect and love, and she hated men like Simon Woolridge for making her doubt her beliefs.

Now Michelle was telling her Simon was right, and she didn’t know what to think. Had her judgment really been so poor? Or was Daniel Metwater extremely gifted in deceiving people?

A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts, and she checked the peephole and recognized the livery of the hotel staff. Relieved, she opened the door, only to find herself shoved backward into the room.

Daniel Metwater tossed the tray with the cup of milk aside and grabbed Andi by the wrists. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “We have to get out of here.”

Chapter Three

Simon paced the length of the hotel room, too unsettled to sit still. When he had booked the room, he had imagined using it as a base to keep an eye on Andi’s suite, but the layout was all wrong. He couldn’t see her door clearly from here, and the walls were too thick, the carpeting too plush, for him to hear anyone approaching.

Under other circumstances, he could have worked with hotel security to set up a surveillance camera to monitor her door. But that kind of thing took warrants—and it took time. Time Simon didn’t have.

Metwater was running, and he was desperate. Maybe he would leave town, or even leave the country and forget about Andi altogether, but Simon didn’t think so. For one thing, he didn’t have the resources he would need to make a getaway. For another, he had already proven he didn’t like loose ends or unfinished business. He had hidden Andi away here—or thought he had—when the Rangers began closing in. He didn’t want the cops talking to her.

And Metwater would know that Andi’s twenty-fifth birthday was only a few days away. Once her trust—several million dollars—passed to her, he could use his power over her to control the funds. A man as greedy as Metwater wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to have that kind of money.

Simon had the Russian to consider too. He had seen the man leave the hotel, but he could have easily circled around and come back in through another entrance. Though the man hadn’t directly threatened Andi, Simon couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a danger to her.

Not on my watch, Simon thought, and stepped back into the hallway. He could station himself outside Andi’s doorway as a guard, but Metwater would see him and avoid approaching. That might keep Andi safe, but it wouldn’t trap Metwater. Simon wanted to stop the Prophet before he hurt anyone else. That meant staying hidden and getting the jump on him when he did approach.

He scanned the hallway, his gaze coming to rest on a recess that housed a decorative plant. A real plant, he noted as he squeezed in behind it, not a silk one. The space was cramped and uncomfortable, but he settled in as best he could, gun drawn, eyes focused on the doorway to Andi’s room and the hallway leading up to it.

The events of the past two days dragged at him—the rescue of Hunter Munson, the search for Michelle and Ethan, their safe return and then the long drive to Denver to get to Andi before Metwater could reach her. He fought sleep by focusing on the Russian. Where did he fit into the picture? Metwater’s twin brother had supposedly been murdered—rather, assassinated—by the Bratva, the Russian mob, though the Chicago police had never found enough evidence to formally charge anyone with the crime. The case was still open.

When Russians had shown up in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and two people associated with them had ended up dead, Daniel Metwater had panicked and demanded protection from the Ranger Brigade, though he would never say why he thought the Russians were after him. The Russians turned out to be part of a smuggling ring that was trying to move into the park, and not after Metwater at all, but the cool, sophisticated mask of the Prophet had slipped for those few days, allowing Simon to see how frightened he really was.

Did he know the blond Russian was asking about him—possibly looking for him? Or was the man, as he had said, merely someone who had met Andi before who wanted to renew the acquaintance? After all, she was a very attractive woman—her pregnancy didn’t detract at all from her beauty.

The elevator opened and a man in hotel livery stepped out, carrying a tray. He moved past Simon without noticing him, head down, a bored employee on the late shift, with hours to go before he got off work. He approached the door and knocked, and after a moment it opened and he stepped inside.

Simon waited. One minute. Two. How long did it take to deliver a tray, collect the tip and leave? His heart started racing, anxiety knotting his stomach. Something about the waiter wasn’t right. Something about the way he walked was a little too familiar. His blood went cold as he realized why.

He exploded from behind the plant and raced for Andi’s room, praying he wasn’t already too late.

* * *

GONE WAS THE SERENE, confident Prophet who had mesmerized Andi so. The man before her was unshaven and dirty beneath the clean clothes he must have taken from the real room service waiter, his hair greasy and smelling of sweat. She tried to pull out of his grasp. “Let go, you’re hurting me!” she protested.

He released her, but his attitude didn’t soften. “Call for a taxi. Tell the driver to meet you across the street, in front of the bank. What have you got that I can wear? And I need a scarf for my hair. I’ll be your sister, visiting from Grand Junction.”

“Daniel, wait! What’s going on?”

“You’re going to help me get out of here, that’s what’s going on,” he said.

“What about Starfall, and that cop—Ethan? And Starfall’s baby, Hunter? Did you really try to hurt them?” She hadn’t meant to say anything about any of that, but the words tumbled out. Simon and Michelle had planted all these doubts in her head and she needed the Prophet to allay her fears.

“Who have you been talking to?” He turned on her, rage contorting his face, and before she could draw back he hit her, hard, snapping her head back and leaving her cheek stinging.

She gasped, tears filling her eyes. No one had ever hit her before—no one. “Shut up and get moving,” Metwater said. “Or I’ll make you wish you’d obeyed me when you had the chance.”

He turned back toward the door, but it burst open. Simon Woolridge didn’t hesitate; he hit Metwater hard, dropping him to his knees. He pulled flexi-cuffs from his belt and reached for the Prophet’s wrist. “Daniel Metwater, you are under arrest.”

Metwater shook his head and rose up with a roar, shoving Simon backward. Andi screamed.

“Get out of here!” Simon shouted at her. “Go to the lobby, where you’ll be safe.”

“No.” She couldn’t leave him. For that matter, she couldn’t leave the Prophet. She had to stay and see how this played out.

Metwater lunged at Simon, swinging hard. Simon dodged the punch, but crashed into an end table, sending it toppling. The Tiffany-style lamp that had been sitting on it slid to the floor and shattered into a kaleidoscope of bright shards. Andi screamed again and looked around for anything she could use to defend herself. Simon staggered to his feet, reaching for the gun in the holster at his side. A vision of him shooting the Prophet filled her head. “No!” she sobbed, and started toward him.

He turned at the sound of her voice, which gave Metwater the opening he needed to grab Simon’s arm, trying to get at the weapon. “Don’t kill him!” Andi pleaded, not even sure which man she was defending now.

The men reeled away from her, grappling, and crashed into a second table, sending more fragile ornaments cascading to the floor. Glass crunched under her feet as she backed away. She spotted the telephone on the table at the end of the sofa. She should call someone. Not the police—they were looking for Daniel. But the front desk? Housekeeping, to clean up the mess?

Fighting back hysterical laughter, she reached for the phone, just as someone pounded on the door. “Hotel security!” boomed a man’s voice. “What’s going on in there?”

Daniel Metwater jerked his head toward the door. “Don’t open it,” he growled.

“Open the door!” Simon ordered.

“If you don’t open up in five seconds, we’re coming in!” the voice on the other side said.

Andi started toward the door. She had taken only two steps when Metwater rushed past her. She reeled away from him, but he scarcely noticed. He jerked open the door and, as two uniformed men rushed in, he ran past them and down the hall.

Simon tried to run after Metwater, but the two men who had just entered the room held him back. “What’s going on here?” the first man, tall and broad-shouldered, demanded.

Simon, whose shirt was half out of his jeans and who was bleeding from his mouth, still managed to look dignified as he presented his credentials. “Agent Simon Woolridge, Ranger Brigade,” he said. “The man who ran out of here is Daniel Metwater, a wanted fugitive.” He tried to move past them again, but the men—who were dressed in the uniforms of hotel security—held him fast.

The first guard studied Simon’s credentials for a long moment before returning them to Simon. “What’s your fugitive doing in this hotel?” he asked.

“Probably getting away,” Simon said, as he tucked the leather folder back into his pocket. He shoved past the two guards, who let him go this time. He rushed out the door, footsteps pounding down the hall.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” asked the second security guard, who was short but muscular.

She nodded, and pushed her hair out of her face. “I... I’m fine,” she managed.

“We had a report of screams and crashing,” said the second man. “Sounds of a struggle.” He surveyed the broken glass and overturned tables. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She shook her head. What exactly had happened? Had the Prophet really hit her? Had he really threatened her? The violence was so unlike him. He would never want to hurt her, would he? “He burst in here, and he was terribly upset,” she began. “He’s desperate, I think. And afraid...”

Simon stepped into the room once more, breathing hard. “He got away,” he said. “We’ll need to block all the entrances and conduct a search of the entire hotel.”

The two guards blinked at him. “We don’t have the authority to do something like that,” the first man said.

“Don’t you need a warrant or something?” the second man asked.

“Do you want to wait until he kills one of your guests before you do more than stand around twiddling your thumbs?” Simon snapped.

“I don’t really think the Prophet would kill anyone,” Andi protested.

“He could have killed you,” Simon said. His eyes met hers, searing her with their anger. He turned back toward the security guards and she started to protest, but a sharp cry out of her own mouth cut off her words.

She cradled her abdomen and tried to brace herself against the sharp pain that tore through her. As she blinked back tears, she realized the three men were staring at her. Simon was the first to reach her side. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just...gas or something.”

“She needs a doctor,” Simon said, helping her to the sofa.

“We have a physician on call.” The older security guard pulled out his phone and punched in some numbers.

“No. I’ll be fi—” But another sharp pain cut off the words. Andi closed her eyes. She couldn’t be going into labor. Not now. Not when so much was unsettled.

Simon took hold of her ankles and swung her feet up onto the sofa. “Lie back and close your eyes,” he said. “Breathe deeply and try to relax.” He had removed her shoes and was rubbing her feet. She ought to object, but it felt so good she couldn’t force the words past her lips.

“What about your felon?” one of the security guards asked.

“His name is Daniel Metwater,” Simon said. “Thirty-two years old. Six foot two inches, one-hundred sixty-five pounds, curly dark hair and eyes. Contact the police and alert the rest of your staff, but if you see him, don’t try to deal with him yourself. He’s dangerous and may be armed. But he has enough of a head start that he’s probably already left the hotel.”

“We’ll get someone up here to clean up this mess once the doctor is done,” one of the men said.

“It can wait until morning,” Simon said. “I don’t want any more strangers in here than necessary.”

Andi kept her eyes closed and let herself drift. Simon’s hands were warm, his fingers strong and soothing. Where had he learned to give a foot massage like that? As he dug his thumb into her aching arch, she had to bite back a moan. She may even have fallen asleep.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when someone squeezed her hand. “Hello, Ms. Daniels,” said a smooth, lightly accented voice. “I’m Dr. Johar. I understand you’ve been experiencing some discomfort.”

She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a handsome, brown-skinned man. She looked past him, searching for Simon. “Where’s Simon?” she asked.

“He’s in the hallway, talking to the local cops.” The older security guard stepped forward.

The police. They would be after Daniel. He wouldn’t stand a chance now. She struggled into a sitting position. “I’m fine now,” she said, hoping the words were true. She needed to talk to Simon, to plead with him not to be too hard on Daniel. Yes, he had hit her, but it must have been because he was out of his mind with fear. Ordinarily, he would never do anything like that.

Then Simon’s face came into view, hovering over the doctor’s left shoulder. “She had at least two moments of pain that were strong enough to make her cry out,” Simon said. “I did what I could to help her relax.”

“Are you her husband?” the doctor asked as he felt for Andi’s pulse. “Or boyfriend?”

Andi waited to see how he would answer. “No,” he said and turned away. “I’m a cop.”

“Perhaps you would like to step away and give us a little privacy,” the doctor said. “Ms. Daniels, would it be all right with you if I examined you? I want to check on your baby.”

Andi consented, and with less embarrassment and discomfort than she would have thought possible, the doctor made a thorough examination. When she was dressed and seated upright once more, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Everything looks good,” he said. “You are not yet in labor, though you are effaced two centimeters.”

Her face must have betrayed her confusion, because he added, “Your body is preparing for the upcoming delivery. The baby is shifting into position for birth and your cervix is getting thinner.”

“How long before the baby is born?” she asked.

“I take it this is your first child?”

She nodded.

“It could be a couple of weeks or a few days.”

“What was the pain?” she asked.

He glanced around the room, at the overturned tables and broken glass, at Simon standing by the window, his back to them. “The person who telephoned me said there had been an altercation. I assume the person who did this—” He nodded to indicate the mess “—is gone now?”

“Yes,” she said. Daniel was gone, though she wondered if Simon was right, and he would return.

“The pain was probably a stress reaction. A particularly sharp kick, a tension in the muscles.” The doctor shrugged. “What matters now is that you don’t worry about it, and try to get some rest.” He patted her hand. “You are young and strong and everything looks as it should be. When is your due date?”

“I’m not sure,” she said.

He raised one eyebrow, but didn’t comment, merely stood there. Simon turned toward them. “How is she?” he asked, though Andi was certain he had been eavesdropping on their conversation.