Hotel Hideaway: (Soldiering On #4) Page 7

  “Soldiering On?” he guessed.

  Sam inclined her head in acknowledgement.

  “Why tell me this now?” he asked.

  She meandered back into the room and took a seat on the couch at a right angle to his. “If someone at Beaton is trying to kill you, it means we’re on the same side.”

  He let out a gusty breath. Well, that was interesting. “Did you know I was working against Beaton when you accepted the job with me?”

  She shook her head. “No. I thought you might be responsible for some murders, actually, and the near-deaths of my friends.” She scrunched her nose of in an apologetic expression.

  Cameron laughed. “Well, I don’t think that’s a compliment.”

  “To be fair, I didn’t know you that well.”

  Cameron’s smile faded as he studied her. “Who was murdered?” he asked softly.

  “Did you hear about the hostage situation just before Christmas?” she asked.

  Cameron’s brow furrowed. “Yes?” he replied slowly, drawing the word out into a question.

  “Beaton masterminded the whole thing,” she told him.

  Cameron leapt to his feet. “What? Do you have proof?” Excitement coursed through him. Though it wasn’t the crime he wanted them for, he could make it work. Like Al Capone, it only mattered they went down, not so much how it happened.

  Sam shook her head, and Cameron deflated. Too good to be true.

  “That’s why I took the job, to find proof. My bosses have been searching for evidence since it happened, and haven’t got very far. Beaton keeps its secrets locked tight as a tomb.”

  Cameron banged his fist into the wall, trying to knock his frustration with it. “Don’t I know it. Why do you think I got a job with them?”

  “Great minds think alike,” Sam said with a slight smile.

  Cameron turned so the back of his head rested against the wall with a thump. “As much good it did us. We’re back at square one, have no proof of their misdeeds, and I have an assassin on my tail that’s getting closer with every try.”

  Sam stood and came closer, her eyes alight with excitement. “I wouldn’t say we’re at square one. Maybe square three or four, but not one.”

  Cameron raised an amused brow. “How many squares are there in total? Then I’d know how to feel about our progress.”

  She shrugged, eyes teasing as she played along. “Not sure. Maybe six? Maybe ten?”

  “Huh. That’s not so bad. I thought you might say one hundred.”

  “I’m not that mean,” she told him.

  They shared a smile, and there was that breathless feeling again. The overwhelming sense this woman was special, a flare of attraction and the warming of his heart. Sam glanced away—again—and Cameron couldn’t help but feel a surge of disappointment. Didn’t she feel it too?

  “So, what do we have I don’t know about?” he asked.

  Sam turned to survey the room.

  “Well, we know they are stepping up their game. Assassins that good don’t come cheap, so you must be rattling their cages. A definite step up from the fake-muggers from yesterday.”

  “Okay,” Cameron said slowly. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

  “You should. We also know they want your death to appear like an accident, or random chance.”

  “The car accident and the mugging I get, but an assassin? That doesn’t look like an accident.” He tapped his fingers against the wall behind him, impatient.

  “If it’s done right it does. If you hadn’t seen her, she could have been in and out without anyone knowing she’d been here.”

  Cameron scowled. “How do you mean?”

  Sam pointed to the window where the assassin had entered. “Well, she deliberately took out the pane rather than breaking the glass. She came in, beelined straight for you. Rather than breaking down the bathroom door, which would have been impossible to disguise in her short time frame, she used one of your cufflinks to pick the lock—thankfully this place has excellent locks. It was a little amateur she didn’t bring her own lock picks, but I suppose if you’re in cat burglar mode you want to travel light.”

  “Okay, I get that, but how was she planning to kill me? She’d have to have bludgeoned me or something, since she didn’t have a gun.”

  Sam glanced at him over her shoulder. “Not all weapons are that violent.” With that, she bent to pull something from under the couch where it must have rolled and held it up for him to see.

  A syringe. Half-full of a pale substance, with a giant needle sticking from the top. Cameron blanched. It might not have been a traditional weapon, but it was more than scary enough.

  “That’s how she planned to kill me?” he asked.

  “Unless this is one of yours?” Sam asked.

  Cameron shook his head, mute and unable to take his eyes from the syringe.

  Sam considered the liquid in the tube. “I’m betting it’s an untraceable poison of some kind. I don’t know much about poisons, but I’ll get someone to test it. Unless they wanted to fake a drug overdose, which is another possibility.” She slanted a glance his way. “Any history of drug use?”

  “No,” Cameron replied forcefully. He’d never been tempted.

  Sam nodded, as if she’d expected that answer. “Right, so there you have it. She would’ve injected you in your sleep, and then escaped the way she’d come, or even out the front door. She’d just have to glue the window back on well enough that it would have passed a cursory inspection. Then she’d be home free.”

  Cameron gulped, his mind crowding with images of what might have been. A quick death, mercifully painless, and all his hard work would have been for nothing. His parents would have lost both their sons and had justice for neither.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  “So, why does it matter to Beaton that my death looks like a freak accident?” Cameron asked.

  “That’s a very good question. Presumably because it would look bad for them. Why their image matters so much, especially now, I can’t answer.”

  “Maybe it’s got to do with the event next week? All the company shareholders will be there. Maybe they want me out of the way for that, but not in a public way.”

  Sam nodded slowly, thinking it through. “You could be right. If you were murdered publicly, there’d probably be enough of an outcry that they’d be obliged to cancel the event.”

  “They wouldn’t want that. Too much of their reputation is riding on it.”

  Sam frowned. “Why? As far as I know, they’re a well-respected company.”

  “I might have started a few rumours recently, trying to see if anyone would bite and let slip they had more dirt on them. Nothing yet, but it has them worried.”

  Sam smiled approvingly. “Okay, so we have a deadline. See, we do have some squares on this board. We just have to fill in the rest.” She gave him an encouraging smile, and some of the tension eased from Cameron’s body. He believed in her.

  “Do you think she’ll come back here?” Cameron blurted out suddenly.

  “The assassin?” Sam asked, narrowing her eyes in thought. “Possibly. But it’s clear she’ll come after us wherever we are. I’d recommend us going in to hiding, but I don’t think you’d go for that. You’d be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, because Beaton won’t stop until you’re dead. And, frankly, I’m a little loath to leave when you’re clearly pushing all the right buttons.” She paused. “The best way to stop this is to bring them down. Do you agree?”

  She watched him, waiting for his answer, and Cameron truly believed she’d do whatever he asked.

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he told her. She grinned and his heart warmed.

  “So, now that’s agreed, tell me why these people want to kill you.” Sam flopped onto the couch and glanced at him in anticipation.

  Cameron sighed and slipped into his seat to her right. “Until tonight I wasn’t even sure it was them.” He paused, readying himself
to relive this painful memory. “They killed my brother.”

  Sam blinked, her eyes focusing more fully on him. “I thought your brother died in war?”

  Cameron’s mouth twisted. If only. “He did. Sort of. But he was killed by friendly fire—or deliberate, I could never tell. But it wasn’t other soldiers that pulled the trigger.”

  Sam’s gaze melted with empathy. “I’m sorry.” Her sincerity told him she understood, as few people did.

  “Me, too,” he told her. Her hand wrapped around his and he squeezed tight, taking from her the courage to tell this story he’d kept to himself for so many years.

  “The last time I spoke to my brother—a Skype call, cut short when he was called away—he said a team of mercenaries had been attached to his unit. He wasn’t sure why, but even from the way he spoke I could tell he didn’t like them.”

  “They’re technically called private contractors,” Sam muttered, then hesitated. “How long after that did he…?” she asked.

  Cameron swallowed past the lump in his throat. “A month, give or take.” Her grip tightened on his hand.

  “Did you find out what happened?” she asked softly.

  He shook his head. “Training exercise gone wrong, I heard.”

  “But?”

  “But I don’t buy it. He sent us a letter that didn’t arrive until after he’d died, saying he believed the mercenaries did something wrong or illegal, and he wanted to prove it.”

  Sam let out a sigh. “Where have I heard that before?”

  Cameron glanced at her and cracked a tight smile. “We were close. Very similar, in case you can’t tell from this story.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she nodded. “I can imagine.”

  “Anyway, we never got much information. But I did find which company the mercenaries worked for.”

  “Beaton?” Sam guessed.

  “Beaton,” he confirmed.

  “And you’ve been trying to find proof ever since?” she asked, shifting so her body turned more towards him.

  He nodded. “It hasn’t been easy. I had to shift career paths a little to get this job. I’d been running a not-for-profit for returning veterans before my brother died. Our grandfather had fought in Korea, and we idolised him, so my brother and I each had our ways of serving our country when our time came. Our dad was pretty proud of us, too, though he could never serve himself.”

  “So, you took a few years to build a reputation as a ruthless CEO, and then applied for the position at Beaton?”

  He shrugged. “I kind of applied, but kind of put myself in a position to be head hunted. Either way, I was lucky the previous CEO retired when he did. I thought I would be in this for a much longer game.”

  “But you would have done it for however long it took?” she asked, but he could tell she already know the answer.

  “Of course.” He smiled wryly.

  “And they didn’t notice that you were the brother of someone they’d killed?”

  Cameron shrugged. “As far as anyone knows, my brother is just one of many veterans killed in action. They aren’t aware that I know the truth. My parents and I publicly accepted the official version of events. And Greg was probably just a blip on their radar, one they’ve long forgotten about.”

  Sam filed away that piece of information to check later. “So, since you started working there, what have you found?”

  Cameron sat back in disgust. “Not much. Though tonight I found some payroll reports from the same time as my brother’s death. I’m hoping that might give me some names. If not of the actual mercenaries—private contractors—then at least of someone that could tell me their identities. A former employee, even, that might want to dish some dirt.”

  “Makes sense,” Sam told him with a nod. “We should get my colleague Paul to go through those. Tomorrow,” she added, apparently noticing the late hour.

  Cameron shook his head. “I don’t want to bring anyone else in on this. It’s too dangerous.”

  Sam scowled. “We’re all trained operatives, used to taking risks. And we’re a team, a package deal. You get one, you get them all. Plus, we’re all on the same side, so you may as well use us.”

  Cameron exhaled. Thirty minutes ago he’d been completely alone in his mission. It was daunting to think he now had multiple people on his side. And a complete relief.

  “Alright. So, what’s next? We can’t stay here,” Cameron muttered, gesturing to the empty window pane with his chin. “Not until that’s fixed, at least.”

  “Well, my apartment is tiny, so we can’t go there. Hotel? We could get a suite.”

  Cameron smiled. A hotel suite for the two of them to hide away from the world? An intimate temptation. “Sounds perfect.”

  Chapter 11

  The large hotel suite wasn’t as decadent as Sam had expected from the lobby downstairs. Stark and modern furniture filled the space, rather than the gilt and marble that had decorated the lower levels. Wooden, Scandinavian-inspired couches dotted the central room. A mid-sized TV sat opposite one of the couches. In the two bedrooms—located at either side of the common room—she could see a similar style for the bed.

  Sam appreciated the minimalism. Decadence had never been her thing.

  She’d chosen the hotel based on a recommendation from Mandy. Apparently, they were known for being discreet and security-conscious, as well as luxurious. An anonymous, forty-dollar-a-night motel off the side of the highway couldn’t boast the same.

  Thoughts of Cameron—his brother, his sacrifices, his mission—still swirled in her head. Her heart ached for him, for what he’d been through. And if she was honest, knowing what she now did about him made her like him so much more.

  She was glad they were on the same side—that Cameron was innocent of the Christmas hostage situation. Her profound relief at the knowledge almost overwhelmed her, so much so she didn’t want to analyse it.

  A niggling thought kept worrying the back of her mind. As CEO, how could he have avoided being a part of what Beaton really was? If he had to fit into their world, gain their trust, act like the CEO they’d expect, surely he must have made similar decisions, done horrible things to make them think he was one of them? Who was he, really?

  And could she trust him?

  “The downstairs staff are aware of your situation,” Sam told Cameron as he surveyed the view beyond the window. “They won’t let anyone up if they ask for you, and they’ll keep a beady eye out for any strangers that wander in. Hopefully that will be enough to keep you safe for now, but obviously I won’t leave your side until this is over.”

  Cameron glanced at her over his shoulder, a slight smile on his face. “I like the sound of that.”

  Sam’s face heated, her heart skipping a beat at the clear intention behind his words. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she mumbled. And she didn’t. This sexual attraction she experienced was as surprising as it was unwelcome. She couldn’t fathom how she’d grown to trust him so quickly, but she wanted to find out. Never before had she become so close to a man in so little time. Though, in fairness, it had been an intense few days.

  But, that wasn’t enough. Even if she admitted her attraction to Cameron, it could never go beyond that. It was unprofessional, for a start, and distracting. Besides, she couldn’t fully trust him. Lastly, the true nail on the coffin, was Sam’s own inexperience. She’d been in few relationships in her life—since finding a man that interested her enough to pursue one was a rare thing—so for all intents and purposes she was a novice.

  “Why not?” Cameron asked, turning towards her with his face intent.

  “Why what?” she replied, scrambling to remember the thread of the conversation.

  Cameron prowled towards her, his gaze locked onto her. Sam backed away until her back hit the wall, the chill of the wall doing little against the heated flush on her skin.

  He stopped mere inches away, yet not touching her. She could feel him just the same, as if he’d pressed himself to her. Her
heart beat double time, her lungs too tight to draw a proper breath.

  “Why don’t you want to be with me?”

  He brought his arms up and braced them on either side of her. It wasn’t like a cage, more like a support structure. Like his arms would bear some of her burdens. Sam sensed he would move back and let her escape at the slightest hint she wanted him to.

  But she didn’t.

  She wanted to pull him closer, close the gap and press her lips against his. She wanted to feel him against her for real, the play of his muscles beneath her fingers, the movement of his body against hers. She wanted her hands in his silky black hair and his scruff rasping against the skin of her cheek.

  Her skin heated almost unbearably from the images running riot through her brain. If she could tear her clothes off to cool down, she would, be she knew that would definitely give the wrong message.

  Sam swallowed thickly, knowing she had to give Cameron some kind of answer.

  “You’re my client,” she managed. “It would be unprofessional. A distraction.”

  There. That came out reasonable enough, though she felt like she was repeating meaningless words more for her own benefit than his. Now she just needed Cameron to step back and away, because Sam didn’t have the strength to move.

  But he didn’t. He stayed there, right within reach of the arms that itched to hold him.

  “So, what if I fired you?” he asked. “What then?”

  Sam shook her head. “You can’t do that. You need me.”

  He made a face, and Sam couldn’t tell whether he really would fire her to get in her pants. “I need a bodyguard. Technically it doesn’t have to be you. Though I would prefer it,” he added.

  Sam narrowed her eyes. “You need my help. You wouldn’t tell anyone else about your brother.”

  Cameron’s eyes darkened and he dropped his arms, but he didn’t step back. Sam missed the sense of security, the feeling of sharing responsibilities with another.

  “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll let it drop,” he murmured, his gaze moving over her face like a caress.