Page 123 of Never Forget

Neither Scott nor I say a word, watching as the SUV drives through the small crowd. There’s still so much happening around us, but without Francis’ screaming, it almost feels quiet. Quieter, at least.

I look up at Scott, and it gets a little quieter, all my attention focused on him.

“So do I get my shadow back now?”

“You’ll have to ask the boss about that one, but I don’t plan on going anywhere you aren’t. We’re going to need some land, far, far away where there’s no cell signal. Somewhere not even Emmy can find us,” he grins, and bends down to kiss me.

The crowd erupts into cheers behind us, and I remember that we’re no longer blocked by the big SUV.

Scott pulls back, but I don’t let him. Let them watch, let them take their pictures, let them talk.

They’d be proud if they had a huge muscle daddy happy shadow, too.

By the time we pull up beneath the covered entrance, the sky has lightened from black to the deepest shade of blue. I don’t think either of us has said more than a handful of words since leaving the federal building. There just isn’t much left to say after hours of answering the same questions over and over again.

“Thank you again for dropping us off, Cory. I know you’re just as tired as we are. Get back to the condo safe.” Cory gives us a nod just before the valet opens the back door.

“Welcome, Mr. Lester and Mr. Riley.”

I offer him a tired smile as I climb out. “Morning.”

The lobby is eerily quiet. At this hour, the restaurant hasn’t opened yet, and the steady stream of guests and tourists who normally fill the cavernous room are absent. There’s soft piano music drifting through the air, barely louder than the gentle splash of the fountain in the center of the lobby.

Scott falls into step beside me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere this fancy in running shorts.”

“They’re very nice running shorts,” I say, running an appreciative gaze over his thick thighs and the tiny bit of cheek exposed in the back.

A sleepy laugh escapes him, exactly what I’d been hoping to hear.

I was hoping we would have been here hours ago so I can do all the things I was planning to, but I think sleep might need to come first.

The concierge behind the desk looks up as we approach, his professional smile brightening into one of recognition.

“Good morning, Mr. Lester.” Then he politely bows his head to Scott. “Mr. Riley.”

“Good morning,” I greet the man, trying not to laugh at Scott’s baffled expression.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

He doesn’t ask for identification or reservation numbers. Instead, he steps out from behind the desk with two key cards already waiting in his hand.

“If you’ll follow me.”

Scott leans into me as we walk. “How come everyone here knows my name?”

“I told you, baby. You’re famous now.” I gasp as a sharp pain shoots through my ass. “Did you just pinch me?!”

Pointedly ignoring our antics, the concierge leads us past the main bank of elevators without slowing, stopping instead at an unmarked set of brushed brass doors tucked discreetly around the corner. He taps a key card against a decorative icon, and the doors slide open immediately.

“This is the private access to the spa suite,” he explains, and leads us in. “Breakfast service begins at six, though room service is available any time. Room service, massage, or any treatments can be scheduled using the touchscreen in your room. And of course, if you have any questions or needs, we are at your service.”

“This is nice,” Scott says as the elevator takes us to our floor. “You know it wasn’t necessary though, right? We could have stayed at the condo.”

“I know.”

The elevator opens directly into the suite. Immediately, the faint scent of cedarwood and eucalyptus welcomes us into a room designed for relaxation. Warm amber lighting greets us instead of the harsh fluorescent lights we’ve spent the last several hours under. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far wall, framing the city below as the sun slowly rises.