Page 7 of Herding Cat

No. They wouldn’t.

Scott put out a lip. “You’re not going, are you? The party’s just starting.”

A doctor stepped in and frowned at Scott, then he made an adjustment on the IV. Scott’s eyes began to droop. “Hey,” he burbled. “Where did you go? The starty is just parting—”

He barely finished the sentence. The doctor turned to them and waved toward the exit. “Go now. He needs his rest,” he said in an annoyed tone, as though it were Garrett’s fault his patient had visitors. It most certainly was not.

He tipped his head. “Shall we?”

She shot another glance at Scott then pinned her sharp glower on the doctor. “Take good care of him,” she commanded. His eyes widened and all his hubris flaked away, burned by the heat of her directive.

“Yes, miss. Yes. Of course.”

Garrett had the impression he would die before failing her.

But then, most men would.

It was a relief to get Catherine into another cab and head back to their hotel, but Garrett knew better than to relax. At least until they reached sanctuary. And even then, he would stay on alert.

This event had changed things, shifted them away from a standard protection op onto the offensive. “I’ll stay with you tonight.” God, it was hard keeping his tone casual.

Her head whipped around and she gaped at him. “What?”

“You cannot be alone.” Her horrified expression gutted him. He forced a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll sleep on the couch.” And thank God her suite had a sitting room. But he would have made a pallet on the floor if it hadn’t.

“I don’t need company.”

“You need protection.”

“No one is coming into my room.”

“Do you know that for certain? Are you willing to bet your life?” Because it could be that, exactly.

Her determination faltered. She nibbled her lip.

He had to look away. He wanted to nibble that lip. And more.

“In the event someone does try to get to you, I’ll be there.”

She huffed a sigh. “Oh, all right.” She was as petulant as a little girl, but he sensed some hint of relief in her tone. No doubt, despite her stalwart mask, she was scared.

She should be.

They pulled up to the hotel and Garrett exited the cab first, scanning the curved drive. There were far too many people standing around. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her from the cab, across the drive and into the spinning doors of the hotel.

The lobby was busy too. Garrett quartered the space as he urged her toward the elevators. He was used to her turning heads—of course she would, she was drop-dead gorgeous—but at this moment it set his nerves on end.

A man sitting on a couch reading a newspaper captured his attention. The look in his eye was too sharp. Garrett quickly memorized his features. And there, another man, leaning against the counter of the registration desk...too calculating.

The wait for the elevator took forever. When it finally arrived, Garrett ushered her in. Perhaps with a little too much force. She glared at him.

He ignored her ire. An older couple stepped on the elevator with them, chattering about their evening and then, to Garrett’s annoyance, the newspaper man did as well. He glanced at the panel and pushed the button for a floor below Catherine’s.

Garrett knew, just knew, this man was not staying at this hotel. He reached forward and pushed a random button. When the elevator stopped on the floor Garrett had selected, he ushered Catherine out.

Miraculously, she didn’t protest. But she did ask, when the elevator shushed closed, “Why did you do that?”

He shrugged. “Just a precaution.” And he needed time to prepare. In the event they arrived at the penthouse floor to find that man awaiting them. He called another elevator and pulled out his SIG Sauer, just to be safe.