Bodyguards In Bed

“How much you give me?”

Finn reached for his wallet again. “I’ve got a hundred bucks.”

“Is yours.” The man handed him the key.

If only all auto purchases were that easy.

Finn took the key, headed back out into the lobby. When he reached Lauren, he said, “Gracias,” to the man, then steered Lauren toward the door.

“What was that all about?” She stumbled when they reached the sidewalk, and cringed.

He caught her by the arm before she went down. “Got us a car.”

“Does it run?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

She didn’t say anything else, and he figured her meltdown was imminent. She was taking longer to break down than most women, which just told him when she did finally crumble, it’d be a whopper.

The room held a double bed, a chipped nightstand with a lamp and rotary phone, and a scarred desk and chair. No TV, no DVD, none of life’s creature comforts. The door snapped closed behind them. Finn pushed the bathroom door open, swept a look through the hole-of-a-room, then stepped to the window and looked through the blinds. Lauren stood still in the small entry hall, unmoving. Behind the building, no lights twinkled. From what Finn could see, a barren field ran to jungle and God knew what else beyond.

Lauren took a deep breath. “I’m filthy. I . . . I need a shower.”

She stared at him a beat, nodded, then disappeared.

The vulnerable look he’d seen in her eyes stuck with him as the shower was turned on. He should go in there and make sure she was okay. She wasn’t used to the seedier side of life. Not like him. She’d grown up with money, assistants and bodyguards waiting on her twenty-four-seven. While her emotional well-being wasn’t in his job description, he still didn’t like the idea of her melting into a puddle on the dingy bathroom floor.

Indecision brewed inside him. There were more pressing matters than Lauren’s mental stability. Before he could change his mind, he whipped his cell from his pocket and dialed.

Jake Ryder, CEO and founder of Aegis, picked up on the first ring. “Does bad luck just follow you or what, Tierney? I’ve been waiting for your damn call. You secure?”

Finn let out a breath. Jake had already heard the news. Finn hoped that meant things weren’t as bad as they seemed. “Yeah. We’re good. Did you talk to Hedley? Is he okay?”

“Hedley’s fine. Took a bullet to the shoulder, but it’s nothing the sonofabitch can’t handle. He’s at the ER now getting patched up. The shooters weren’t cops, though they were dressed like them.”

Not cops. Finn’s suspicions had been right. “Same ones from the bar?”

“Or linked to them. How’s Kauffman?”

Finn glanced toward the bathroom door, felt that tug to go check on her again. “Fine. For now. So far she’s shown balls of steel, but it’s not gonna last.” He looked away, fighting the weird pull she seemed to have on him. “What about the others?”

“No casualties. There was a woman . . . Mierna—”

“Moira.” Shit. “That’s Lauren’s assistant.”

“Moira. Right. According to Hedley, she got a little banged up in the scuffle. Nothing a few days of R&R won’t fix.”

Relief pulsed through Finn. But just as quickly anger over the situation pushed in. “What the hell’s going on, Jake? The hit on Santiago was professional. And they had a hard-on for Lauren. I almost didn’t make it out with her.”

“Anything stand out from the shooting?”

Finn thought back to that moment. Images flashed behind his eyes. He saw the group of men step into the bar and Santiago’s immediate reaction. He saw Santiago push Lauren to the ground behind him, heard the leader shout something in Spanish. Heard Santiago’s bellowed response. And he saw . . .

“Maybe,” he said. “They were shouting something that sounded like . . . ‘rojo diablo.’ Donde está . . . ’” Crap, he was no good at Spanish. “What . . . who . . . No, where. Where is el diablo rojo? That was it.”

“You sure that’s what they said?’

“Yeah. Why?”