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She’d programmed Joe’s name and number into her phone, and seeing that name now sent a warm ribbon of relief down her spine. “Hi, Joe.”
“Everything okay this morning?”
“As right as it can be with Marten presumed dead and Andrew bruised and battered probably somewhere in England.”
“No more emails or late-night visits to your porch?”
She swirled her coffee in the mug. “Nobody but you.”
Joe sucked in an audible breath.
“That was you this morning getting into a car, wasn’t it?”
“Guilty.”
“You spent the night outside my house?”
“Technically across the street from your house.”
“Are you nuts? If you thought it was a good idea to keep watch over me last night, why didn’t you say so? You could’ve spent the night on the couch or in one of the many bedrooms in this house.”
“Hailey, we’d just met. I didn’t want to crowd you.”
“You also didn’t want to worry me. You really believe I need a bodyguard?”
“A lot happened yesterday. We didn’t know if they were finished warning you or not. Just playing it safe.”
“Well, thanks, but now I feel guilty.”
“Do you always automatically feel guilty about everything?”
Hailey clasped her hand around her cup. Joe obviously never had any reason to feel guilty about anything.
“Okay, scratch that. Not guilty, but you should’ve told me. You must’ve been freezing out there, and I could’ve at least offered you breakfast.” Maybe she would’ve offered him much more than that.
“I’ve stood watch under worse conditions, and I had breakfast at my hotel. Did you call the FBI yet?”
Hailey let out a silent breath. Joe McVie was all business. Even if she had offered more, he probably would’ve turned her down. “I left a message with one of the agents. He hasn’t called back yet.”
“I did a little research this morning on Andrew Reese.”
“Already? Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.” Joe coughed and continued as if to brush off his lack of shut-eye. “The only thing I could find on Andrew was a story he wrote about Syria for an online geography journal. He did report on the bombing of the refugee camp and the effect it had on the peace progress.”
“Maybe that was enough to get him noticed. I’m not doing anything to get noticed.”
“Are you sure? What’s this fund-raiser you mentioned?”
Hailey swallowed. “I-it’s for the children of Syria affected by the civil war.”
Joe’s silence hung over the line between them.
“Who could object to that?” As soon as she uttered the words, she answered her own question. “The very people who indiscriminately bombed those refugees.”
“Can you cancel it?”
“Cancel it? It’s scheduled for this week. There’s no way I can cancel. Too much work has already gone into the event—invitations sent, money spent.”
“Watch your back.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious.” Hailey cleared her throat. “Would you like to come and watch my back for me?”
“At the fund-raiser?”
“It’s just a party for rich people—food, music, dancing. I have to give them something for their generous donations. Your donation can be my safety.”
“You want me to be your bodyguard?”
“How about my date?” She held her breath.
“A bodyguard posing as your date.”
All business. “Sure, if you want to think of it that way—but the date part requires a tux.”
Joe snorted. “Damn, forgot to pack one of mine.”
“I can send you to my dad’s tailor to get suited up. He’ll do it quickly and put it on my dad’s account.”
“I don’t—”
She cut him off. “Listen, McVie. I’m not going to pay you for this bodyguarding gig, so you might as well take what you can get—and that’s a tux.”
“Yes, ma’am. Where is this tailor?”
“Mission District. I’ll give you the address and let Tony know as soon as we get off the phone. He’ll hook you up.”
