3
Connor escorted Shanti inside the hotel and into the elevator, Jones, McManus, and Cruz piling in behind him. “Cobra has the entire top floor. You’ve got the suite. I’ll be staying in the adjoining room.”
The room was intended for an assistant or servant, so it was small. Still, it more than met Connor’s needs for this mission.
“Thank you.”
“It’s what we do.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened with ading.
Shields was waiting for them. “Welcome to the Longest Beach Hotel, Ms. Lahiri. I’m Elizabeth Shields, part of Cobra’s support team. Did you have a good flight?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Shields handed Shanti and Connor their keycards. “ETA on your gear is about five minutes.”
“Ms. Lahiri, let’s get you settled.” He glanced at the others. “Staff briefing in thirty. Shields, I want an update on the drone problem.”
He followed Shanti into her suite. The others had secured this floor yesterday, so there was no need to clear the rooms.
She turned on the light, set her handbag on a table just inside the door, not reacting to the luxurious surroundings. He knew she came from money, so maybe the polished wood floors, king-sized bed, leather sofas, large flat-screen TV, bar, and other amenities didn’t impress her.
Connor hadseensuites like this before. He’d served on details for dozens of traveling dignitaries—diplomats, senators, ministers of various governments—but he’d neverstayedin anything this fancy. His paycheck from Cobra was good, but it wasn’tthatgood.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, thanks.” She stepped out of her heels, a look of relief on her face as she wiggled her toes. “I’d just like to take a shower and change my clothes.”
“Your luggage is in the elevator.” Connor figured he ought to review the basics. “When you need to order food, you let us know what you want, and we’ll order it for you. We’ll meet room service at the elevator and bring the food to your door. Don’t go down to the restaurants or the bar. If you need a glass of wine, we’ll get that, too.”
“Got it.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if she were cold—or anxious.
He found himself wanting to reassure her but kept his distance. He didn’t need a repeat of this afternoon. He’d only meant to keep her from falling, but something had passed between them the moment he’d touched her.
Sexual attraction.
Yeah, well, he needed to put a lid on that if he wanted to keep his job.
“The elevator is set up so that only those with keycards for this floor can get here. The doors to the stairways are locked from the inside. We’ve got our own surveillance in the hallway.” He pointed to the open door that led to his room. “I’ll be right in there if you need anything. Just call or knock. You’re safe here, Shanti.”
“Oh, it’s not that.” She gave a little shake of her head, looking less like a high-powered attorney and more like an uncertain young woman. “This is the first time I’ve been the point person for the Office of the Prosecutor. I can’t screw it up. It’s too important. So many lives lost. So much brutality.”
Connor could empathize. He knew what it was like to shoulder a big burden at a young age. His first op had been a hostage rescue. He told her what he’d said to himself that day long ago. “If they trust you to carry this, you must have what it takes. Once you get your boots on the ground and get into the action, you’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t wear boots, idiot.
Shanti smiled, nodded.
Then Shields’ voice came over Connor’s earpiece, telling him their bags were sitting outside the door.
“Our bags are here.” He brought in her luggage first and then shouldered his duffel. “You’re welcome to join us in the briefing if you want. We’ll be running through tomorrow’s itinerary—the foreign minister’s visit and so on.”
“I’d like that. Thanks.”
“See you in the room at the end of the hall in twenty-five minutes.” He left her to do her thing, closing the door to his adjoining room on the way out, sorting his gear, and taking a quick shower to revive himself. Twelve hours on an airplane was never fun.
He found the others milling around in the makeshift operations room, shooting the shit, and hitting the coffee hard. “Let’s get started. I believe Ms. Lahiri is going to…”