Switched

He held up his hands. “Keep your voice down.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all.” His voice barely carried over the soft hum from the heating vent above her head. “I can explain all of this.”

Fury blew over her with the force of a hurricane. “While you’re at it, maybe you can make up an excuse for why you didn’t call after our last date.”

“What?”

“You know, the dinner we had. The call you never made.” Her head buzzed with red-hot rage at the memory.

He finally clamped his jaw shut. “This isn’t the right time.”

“Oh, really?”

He winced the second before he glanced behind him again. “Look, I know this is awkward.”

“No kidding.” This time she did keep her voice down, but only because she was muttering.

“In my defense, I’ve been a little busy.” His mouth hovered over her ear as he spoke.

“Lying takes up a lot of your time, does it?” Now he had her whispering. And arguing in a bathroom stall on an empty floor of a not-yet-opened building.

The day just kept getting better and better.

“We can fight about this later, which I’m not looking forward to at all, by the way, but right now we have to—” He reached for her again.

“Since when are you so grabby?” She shrugged out of his grasp and then stopped when she spied the tiny lines of tension around his mouth. “What is it?”

“I need you to stay calm.”

“I’m not thirteen. I can take bad news.” She fought the urge to ruin her point by rolling her eyes.

“Then you won’t lose it when I tell you we have to hide.”

She tried to stop her eyes from blinking so fast. “I didn’t say that.”

ANGIE TROUTMAN STOOD up from the empty table without bothering to scan the room. People were staring and whispering because that’s what these losers did. So much jealousy packed into one small room. The room pulsed with it. She was almost sorry she’d talked Lowell into wasting money on them. Their lack of gratitude choked out any chance of enjoying the party.

She scanned the unhappy faces for Palmer, official Craft security, but instead spied a member of the outside team hired to back up Palmer. Not that the backup team viewed itself as anything other than being in charge. She’d warned Lowell about the potential turf war and he’d ignored her, citing the death threats.

Men never listened.

She tried for eye contact with the random security guard nearby. She couldn’t remember his name. It was something odd, one of those names parents chose when they wanted to be clever but ultimately ended up dooming their children to snickers.

But the name didn’t matter. She had a bigger issue. Aaron McBain had been trouble since he’d walked through the Craft lobby doors and taken over without saying a word. Something about his presence demanded attention. He issued orders and people jumped.

Worse, bringing him on board added to the Craft hierarchy, a pyramid she’d already given up so much to climb. After only a few days in the building, McBain had showed up everywhere, making it nearly impossible for her to speak privately with Lowell when needed. And now, when she needed him to stay in one place and in clear sight, McBain had disappeared off the floor. Hardly the keen skills of a crack security expert promised by the lucrative contract he’d signed with Craft.

Since his assistant—whatever his name was—was talking to someone rather than looking at her, she poked him in the arm to get his attention. “What’s your name?”

His head turned toward her, his gaze bouncing down to her hand and then back to her face, but his frown never wavering. “It’s still Royal Jenkins, ma’am. Just like it was when you asked yesterday.”

She’d insist on his company firing him from this assignment if she had the power to do so, and by Monday she’d convince Lowell to give it to her. She’d see if this man’s voice still dripped with disdain when he was standing in front of her desk, begging for his job. “Well, Roy. We have a—”

“Royal.”

As if she had time for this holier-than-thou male nonsense. She let her fake smile fall. “Where is your boss?”

“Excuse me?”

“McBain. His job is to watch Mr. Craft.” She glanced to where Lowell last stood and froze when she saw him across the room, handing his wife a drink. With a quick mental shake, Angie returned to the crisis at hand.

“He’s checking the rest of the building.”

She felt the blood drain from her head. “I don’t pay him to be hotel security.”

“Craft pays for his expertise. Right now he is ensuring the safety and integrity of the floors above us, which is protocol.”

That was the last place he could be at that moment. She couldn’t have him snooping around. “I need him here.”

Royal’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the sudden swirl of rage and anxiety inside her. If she showed any outward sign of concern, this man would jump on it. He might be insubordinate, but he wasn’t stupid. She knew that from the way his gaze wandered around the room, taking in every movement, assessing and analyzing.

She folded her fingers together in front of her. “McBain has declared himself in charge of Mr. Craft’s personal safety. As such, your man should be in sight of Mr. Craft at all times.”

The stern line of Royal’s mouth eased. “I appreciate your … unique concern for Mr. Craft.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice turned to ice.

Royal didn’t even flinch. Certainly didn’t back off. “You are invested in your boss. I understand that.”

She had to clench her jaw to keep from screaming. All men were the same. They led with their pants, but she did not have the time to charm this one, so she let the fury bubbling inside her erupt into a heated whisper. “Call McBain now. I want him in front of me within the next two minutes.”

“I’ll let him know you requested to talk with him.” Royal nodded, then turned slightly, giving her his back as he motioned for one of his men to step forward.

Angie ignored the sharp dismissal. Roy or whatever his name was would learn the hard way not to cross her. She would make it her mission to put him in the unemployment office.

But not today. She was too busy staring past him to the elevator bank. The red light held on number five, exactly where it was supposed to be, yet she knew in her soul something was deeply wrong.

Chapter Three

Aaron’s bad day tripped and fell right into nightmare territory. He stared at the woman he’d last seen across the table at an Italian restaurant. Same honey-brown hair. Pretty face, intelligent dark eyes. Only this time the smile had been replaced with flat-lined lips. Wariness and more than a touch of female indignation now played across her face.

Risa clearly thought their biggest problem was his late post-date call. Little did she know that was flowers and chocolates territory compared to what they were facing now.

He thought about reaching for her but decided to hold up his hands instead since she looked about two seconds away from hitting something, namely him. “Listen to me.”