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Maddy didn’t hesitate. She rushed across the wide space and opened the door the man was guarding. Her heart beat so frantically she feared it would burst from her chest. Her hands were trembling so badly it took her a few tries to get the door unlocked.
She closed it behind her, forcing herself to breathe deeply, to try and calm the racing of her heart and the adrenaline that was making her entire body shake. The room was dim, so she used her phone to light the way. She panned around the room, then stopped. There was a table in there and someone was lying on top of it wrapped in a sheet. She swallowed hard.
Gathering her courage, she walked over, her heart almost beating out of her chest. She shone the light on the person’s face, removed the sheet, and covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Her mind spun, horror tingling throughout her body. For some strange reason, the magnitude of the situation didn’t register at first. It seemed surreal.
It was President Didier Baptiste, and he was quite dead.
10
She rebounded in horror and the stark reality that she was in terrible danger shivered through her. It was obvious that they wouldn’t have stashed the president’s body down in the basement if they didn’t want to keep it a secret. For what purpose, she couldn’t fathom. She fumbled her phone and clicked off two shots, then shots of the room.
A sob caught in her throat and tears stung her eyes as she stumbled back toward the door and the promise of safety. All she had to do was make it to Shark. She pulled on the handle and let loose another hoarse sob when her slick hand slipped off.
The second attempt was successful as she pulled the door open just a crack to find the guard still involved with the maid. Thank God!
She opened it and closed it silently, resetting the lock. She stopped her headlong flight, getting herself under control, then before she thought better of it, she clicked off shot after shot. The door where the maid and guard were, the laundry area seen from her vantage point, the back door that led out to a garden, and the locked door. She then ran for the stairs to the upper level. She paused again at the top.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Her heart slammed painfully against her chest and her legs went weak at the realization that the information she’d discovered would get her killed if anyone at the palace suspected she knew. An involuntary whimper escaped her throat.
She swallowed hard to keep her wits about her. She peeked around the corner and saw that blessedly, it was clear. She went to dart out and make a beeline for the entrance when she saw the greeter head toward Fabrice’s door. He knocked politely, and she knew she was on the verge of being discovered. He entered the room and disappeared from her sight.
With a burst of frantic terror, she darted out of her hiding place and ran full out to the bathroom door. Breathing hard, she pulled it open and ducked inside. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it to catch her breath.
With a soft cry of despair, she saw her expression in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her skin a white pallor she’d never seen before. She was sweating and her eyes…crazy eyes broadcasting fear like a beacon in the night. Her lungs seemed suddenly incapable of taking in air. She tried to swallow in enough oxygen, and then another as her legs began to shake. Panic clawed its way up the back of her throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth and blinked furiously as the tears pooled and swirled in her eyes, blurring her view of herself into indistinct, broken patterns.
Her nerves gave a warning tremor as control of the situation seemed to slip a little further out of her grasp. She thought fleetingly of telling him she was ill. But then rethought it. She couldn’t let him see her like this. He might mention it to someone, and she couldn’t afford the prime minister hearing anything at all was amiss, except that she and Fabrice had such a nice lunch.
She went to the mirror and turned on the faucet, grabbing a hand towel. Running it under the water, she blotted her face, bent over the sink, and worked at getting herself under control. She deliberately thought of Shark. How warm and strong he was, how he’d made love to her so fiercely last night. She trembled this time from the memory of the heat of his body against her skin. She lifted her head and saw that she had color in her face now. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could pull this off with the greeter not being suspicious at all.
Even though she was expecting the knock, she jumped when it came against the door. She dug in her purse, thanking her mom for making it mandatory to carry a brush ever since she was a child.
She pulled it through her hair, not trusting her voice to sound normal.
“Is everything all right, Dr. Towson?” She had to give it to the guy. He remembered she was addressed as doctor.
“Just a moment,” she called out, her voice a little shaky, but hopefully muffled by the door. She was out of time, but thank God, she looked almost completely normal if it wasn’t for the fear in her eyes. She took another long, deep breath, tucked her brush back into her purse and quickly touched up her makeup.
Finally, she turned toward the door. When she pulled it open, the greeter was standing dutifully by. She gulped down her fear and tilted her chin up to look him in the eye.
Her hold on her control slippery and tenuous at best, she tightened her determination like a hard fist. “I’m ready to leave,” she said inanely.
He smiled and nodded. “I hope you had a pleasant time.”
She forced as natural a smile as she could under the circumstances. “Yes, it was so good to catch up with her and see her son again. Thank you.”
“Let me see you out. Your escort is waiting for you.” Maddy barely heard him, her attention focusing almost completely inward, everything becoming vague and peripheral. She got a grip on herself as a bead of sweat trickled down her temple and cheek. She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her face.
“Dr. Towson?” He was looking at her quizzically. What? Oh, right, his words finally registered. She needed to move. She felt as if she were hanging on by a thread and the hallway looked so long, the entrance and Shark so far away.
At about halfway down, her panic almost broke free, sending her in a swift dash the rest of the way, but she hung onto her sanity with thoughts of Shark, her dad, and the information she needed to deliver to him. There could be no reports of the ambassador’s daughter screaming like a banshee through their sacred halls, the body of the dead president lying on a slab in a cold room one floor below.
Almost there, she thought as they came to the end of the hall, the staircase in sight. She could almost feel Shark’s presence. “Thank you,” she murmured, “I’m good from here.” She picked up her pace but not too fast. Bouncing down the stairs, she went to the entrance toward the waiting room. Shark was in there, pacing. He turned toward her and his whole body stiffened.
The transformation was amazing. Her heart thudded in her chest. She’d seen that iron-gray gaze go from soft to angry, but now, it was piercing, fierce, and unnerving the hell out of her.
For the first time since meeting him, she recognized the SEAL in him.
Six feet, and two hundred pounds of ripped muscle, raw power, and steely-eyed killer.
