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His phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the two customers browsing in the shop. Neither of them seemed to need assistance so he answered the call.

It was Daniel, his agent for security work.

"Hey Dan, how's it going?"

"Good, good. I've got a short contract you might be interested in. are you up for it?"

"Sure, a short contract would be good, but I'm watching over the shop for my brother-in-law through the rest of this week."

"Should be doable, it's a weekend job," Dan replied.

"In that case, yes. Who is it for? Someone I know?"

"Don't think so, it's an American actress who's flying in for a publicity event. She's got some special requests, a bit unusual, but it was Jay Leonard, Clayton's buddy, that sent her in your direction. She's a pal of his."

Tommy frowned. "What do you mean, special requests?"

"Just stuff I haven't seen before." He laughed dryly into the phone. "Believe me, I've seen some pretty weird requests from clients. It's a top-rate fee, though."

"Go on."

"Basically it looks like she wants the security to be alongside for the entire twenty-four hour shift. She must have some issues. You will be provided with accommodation at the hotel where she is staying. Looks like she wants a man nearby."

Tommy paused before replying. He had

hoped to spend that time tracking Kelly down, but he couldn't afford to turn down a lucrative weekend contract. The extra funds would help Carol and Jim out. He wanted to get some part-time help in the shop, give Jim more time with the baby before coming back to work. "I suppose it makes sense."

"I've got another client to deal with right now, but why don't you come over when you shut up shop this evening, and we'll go over the details then?"

He agreed, put the phone down and told himself again the cash would help, trying to shrug off the odd feeling he had about the job.

Chapter Five

Tommy was still feeling that there was something odd about the job on Saturday afternoon, when he stepped out of the elevator and glanced up and down the carpeted corridor of the hotel.

It was a cushy place, with solid wood doors and dark walls—a top-class, expensive hotel. He was more familiar with hurrying stars out of back doors and into speeding cars to avoid the press than this sort of number. He'd never had a job quite like it and, while he wasn't in the mood for it, he nodded and smiled at the luxury of the surroundings.

Room 323 stood at the end of the corridor, beckoning to him. He approached slowly, still racking his brains trying to place Jennifer Sandringham, the client. He wasn't a big movie buff because he'd rather listen to a good rock band play. Even so, he pretty much recognized most A-List celebrities. At least, the sort of international stars who could afford to pay for a place like this. He should have looked her up on the ‘net, but he'd been much more interested in trying to track down Kelly instead. Kelly was the only woman on his mind right now, had been from the moment he met her.

He rapped on the door. No answer, so he rapped again. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and checked the address. The scrap of paper Daniel had scribbled the instructions down on definitely stated Room 323. He tried the handle and the door opened.

"Hello, is anybody home?"

No response. He stood in the open doorway scanning the room, a reception area to a full suite of rooms by the looks of it. There was a window at the far end and doors to the left and right, both closed. In the center of the space stood a fancy table, dominated by an explosion of flowers in a vase. A small envelope was propped against the display, and his name was scrawled across it. Apparently, he was in the right place.

He shut the door and walked over to the table, dumping his backpack on the floor. He picked up the envelope, turned it in his hands and lifted it to his nose. Beneath the smell of flowers from the display, he smelled a more exclusive scent. "The lady has expensive tastes."

He tried again to place the woman's name. Where was she anyway? He opened the envelope and pulled out a small white card.

When you're ready, come into the bedroom. Whatever happens, remember that you have signed a contract to be at my beck and call, all night long…and Tommy Sampson has a reputation to keep. Tommy Sampson never lets a client down…

Tommy stared at the card, rereading it with a frown. He'd felt uncomfortable about that clause in the contract, and now it was being emphasized. What the hell was this about? He flipped the card over. There was nothing on the back. Dropping the card on the table, he glanced at the two doors facing each other on either side of him.

As he contemplated them, he heard a key turning in the door behind him.

He turned, expecting someone to walk in. But no. He heard the faint sound of footsteps and laughter disappearing away down the corridor. "What the fuck?"

He crossed the room and tried the handle. The door that he had come through was now locked, with no sign of a key anywhere inside the reception area. He glared at it. Someone was having a joke at his expense, and he didn't like it.

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