Someone To Watch Over Me (22 page)

She glanced over at her parents, and Vicki
strode across the room to her. Her sister forced a quick smile and
locked her arm through Morgan's. “Let's go,” she whispered.

Morgan straightened up. Her temples throbbed,
and her eyes stung as she made her way through the crowd and out
the door. They marched down the hall. On her right, the hotel
security and Shawn had the man off in the corner. By the look on
Shawn's face the conversation had become ugly. Vicki tightened her
hold and increased the pace as they virtually jogged past the
group, heading to the lobby and elevators.

Her heart sank. Shawn must think she'd
blabbed to someone about him and Christy. He'd told her if this
info got out there'd be hell to pay. What would happen now? And how
had that weasel found out about Shawn and Christy?

Once the elevators closed, her sister spoke,
“That was a memorable finish to the evening. Care to talk about
it?”

Morgan’s throat went scratchy and her eyes
stung as she blinked back tears. She brought her hands to her face,
took a deep breath, and dropped them to her sides. “I wasn't
supposed to talk to anyone about his daughter, Vicki, and I
didn't.”

“Well the cat's out of the bag now.”

Morgan glanced over to her sister and shook
her head. “A lot of harm could come from this.”

She glanced over at Sabrina. The young
security guard didn't look at her. “I wonder how that man found
out,” Sabrina whispered.

The elevator doors opened and they walked to
Morgan's suite. Sabrina checked the rooms first. When the all clear
was given, Morgan and Vicki entered, locking the door behind
them.

Morgan shot a glance over at Sabrina. “I
didn't say anything. Honestly, I didn't. Why would I? I've only
known about this for a little over forty-eight hours. I don't have
any contacts in the entertainment industry. And thanks to that
idiot downstairs, people think I'm a home-wrecker. The fundraiser
has a lot to lose with negative publicity like this, even the
store. For me to say something to the press makes absolutely no
sense.”

“You never mentioned it to me,” Vicki
said.

Sabrina looked at Morgan and nodded. “Give
Shawn time. He'll get an answer.”

“From his reaction, I'll bet he’ll get to the
bottom of it tonight,” Vicki said.

Her sister glanced over at Morgan. “The best
thing that you can do is try to get a good night's sleep. There’s
nothing you can do. Let Shawn sort it out.”

Morgan nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know
how I’m going to sleep, but you’re right.”

“Well, I'm ordering room service first,”
Sabrina said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast with mom
and dad,” Vicki said.

Morgan glanced at her sister. What are her
parents thinking right now? Vicki threw her a knowing glance.
“Relax. The event was a success despite what happened. You did a
great job.”

Her sister walked forward and gave Morgan a
hug. “It’ll be okay.”

Morgan exhaled. “I hope you’re right.”

Vicki pulled back. “Let’s see what Shawn
finds out.” The younger woman reached over and picked up her
evening clutch. “Get some sleep.”

Sabrina locked the door after Vicki left.
Morgan returned to her bedroom and shut the door. She tossed her
purse on the bed and slipped out of her heels. As she replayed the
event in her mind, she gritted her teeth. When it first happened
she thought her stalker had shown up. Where was he now?

***

Shawn decided to make a final check in with
Sabrina. Then go to his room to order dinner and get a hot shower.
The police arrived, and after some negotiation, the young man had
decided to leave and not press charges for assault in exchange for
not being charged for trespassing and stalking.

The guy had been a rank amateur. The
paparazzi-wannabe infiltrated the event by stealing a uniform and
working as wait staff. When the opportunity to get a picture of
Morgan and Shawn together turned up, he went for the money shot.
After some discussion, the photographer admitted that his source
had been an ex-employee of Christy's.

Deep in his heart, he knew that Emma’s
paternity couldn't be kept secret forever, but the fact that the
leak came from Christy's side gave him a measure of relief. There
wasn't a lot Christy and her team of lawyers could do to him about
this. But Christy’s ex-housekeeper was going to find herself in a
world of hurt very quickly. Shawn’s former girlfriend was not the
type to let a breach of a confidentiality agreement slide by.

As the adrenaline evaporated, Shawn felt like
his legs were made of rubber as he made his way back to Morgan’s
hotel room. This week had been a real marathon. He’d done bodyguard
work before, but you did a shift of eight hours and then someone
else took over. This had been a twenty-four seven experience, and
he needed a rest. A small smile crossed his face, not that guarding
Morgan had been all bad.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He
retrieved it and frowned.
Who would be calling at this hour?
He picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Shawn Randall?” the masculine voice on the
line asked.

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Randall, my name is Detective Cole. I'm
calling to advise you we have a match on the fingerprints from
Morgan's car.”

Shawn stopped. Finally, they were going to
get a break in this case. “Who is he?”

“His name is Frank Kaufman. He's twenty years
old and lives on the West side. He has a record for stalking and
assault.”

“Stalking and assault? You mean he's done
this before?”

“About a year ago. He's currently on
probation. We sent over a squad car to pick him up for questioning.
Hold please.”

Shawn continued to walk down the hall while
he held the line. The best news would be if the detective reported
they had him in custody. “Mr. Randall?”

“Yes. The officers who went to Kaufman’s
house report that he’s not there. His grandmother reported that
Frank is at work tonight.”

“Where does he work?”

“Copper Creek Inn.”

Shawn froze. “Say again?”

“He’s working tonight at Copper Creek
Inn.”

“Send squad cars over here now,” Shawn
ordered before he flipped the cell phone closed and broke into a
dead run.

***

Frank stood by the room service cart laden
with food and a bottle of champagne. He was being checked out, and
he knew it. A few moments delay after he knocked on the door didn't
alarm him; everybody looked out the security peephole before they
let him in. He adjusted the champagne bottle which laid in the ice
bucket. His hands had a slight nervous tremor. Now what he’d
dreamed about and planned for was about to happen. Within seconds
he’d be with Morgan. All he had to do was hold it together a little
longer. The door opened and a petite woman with dark hair studied
him.

“Room service,” he said.

She stepped aside, and he entered pushing the
cart ahead of him. He scanned the room discretely, looking for
Morgan. His heart pounded rapidly, and he struggled to breathe
normally.

“Put the food over here,” the woman
directed.

Frank moved the cart to where she requested
and gave quick verbal check off of the items on the cart. The
dark-haired lady nodded as he went over the order until he pointed
out the champagne bottle in the ice bucket.

“I didn't order that.”

“Compliments of the house,” he replied.

The puzzled look on her face told him she
seemed to doubt his answer but replied, “Okay. Thanks.”

“Please sign here,” Frank requested as he
handed over the room service receipt.

The lady took the invoice from him, “Do you
have a pen?”

Frank patted his jacket pocket in an attempt
to locate one. He hoped she bought the act. “Sorry, I thought I had
one on me.”

“Wait a sec.” She turned and walked over to
the desk in the corner.

Now.
Frank reached down, slid the
champagne bottle out of the ice bucket and crept up behind her.
Just as she pulled the pen out of the desk drawer, he raised the
bottle up and slammed it on the woman's head. She fell to the floor
in a heap.

For a brief moment, Frank stared at her on
the carpet in disbelief. Is she really unconscious? He gently
nudged the woman’s body with his foot. When she didn't move he set
the bottle down and turned to search for Morgan.

The bedroom door on the right was closed. He
walked over, almost tiptoeing, and laid his head against it.
Someone had the TV on so he knocked softly.

The door opened. “Sabrina?” Morgan paused.
For a few seconds, they were face-to-face and he stood speechless
drinking in the moment. “Where's Sabrina?” she asked.

Frank froze. He had planned this meeting for
weeks. He dreamed and practiced a million things to say. But he
never thought about how to answer the simple question she
posed.

Morgan glanced past him and spied the woman
on the floor. The flow of emotions on her face fascinated him as
they ran across her in slow motion.

Her eyes rolled from Sabrina to him, and she
paled as the pieces fell into place. “Dear God! No!” Morgan gasped
as she stepped back and tried to slam the door in his face. Frank
raised his hands to push back to stop her. Morgan leaned in, and he
shouldered his whole weight against the wooden door.

The door flew open and Frank tumbled into the
room falling face first on the carpet. Flashes of light preceded a
loud crack. His cheek burned like fire as he skidded across the
floor. Dazed, he raised his head and searched for Morgan. Tears
blinded his vision and the searing pain from his nose and the
copper taste on his lips meant his nose was bleeding and broken.
His tears cleared and he spied Morgan rolling off her back,
scrambling to her feet.

“Get away from me,” Morgan screamed as she
dashed for the door.

He lunged for her and caught her by the
ankle. Her strong pull on his arm spun him around, and as she hit
the ground for a second time he scrambled over to grab her.

He gasped raggedly. “Morgan, stop. I won't
hurt you.”

She rolled around and fired off a hard kick
at him, and then another trying to free herself from his grasp.

“Quit it,” he yelled as concern gave way to
anger. He didn't think Morgan would try to hurt him or escape.

Desperately hanging onto her ankle, Frank sat
up, leaned back and gave a violent jerk causing her to slide closer
to him.

She screamed and tried to roll to her side to
get to her feet. Frank pounced and landed on top of her.

She would do what he wanted now.

***

Shawn's lungs burned as he took the stairs
two at a time and reached the landing in the stairwell on Morgan's
floor. He had to make sure she was safe. The police were on the
way, but he was closer. Where was the sick son-of-a-bitch? The best
outcome would be that they were safe and sound behind a locked
hotel room door.
Please God, let that be the case.

He pulled open the heavy metal door and
sprinted down the hallway. The hotel room doors flowed in a blur
and as he neared her room the door stood wide open.

He halted and pulled his pistol out of the
holster before he hugged the wall. He angled himself to get maximum
visibility as he peered inside. Over to the right, a cart with food
sat undisturbed. He rolled to the other side of the entrance,
scanned the other half of the room and found Sabrina on the
floor.

“Damn!” He stepped into the room scanning
left and right. The place appeared empty and he raced over to
Sabrina. Shawn crouched down. “Sabrina?”

No response. She appeared to be breathing
normally, but he needed to get her medical help and fast. Shawn
stood up and turned to Morgan's bedroom.

“Morgan!”

She emerged in the doorway pale and silent.
It took a couple seconds to register, but Frank stood behind her
with his arm around her neck and a knife to her throat.

Shawn instantly raised his gun.

They stopped.

“Don't,” the man behind her ordered.

Shawn couldn't fire. He didn't have a clean
shot. But he wouldn’t let his arm drop, so they stood for a few
seconds sizing each other up.

Morgan had a dazed expression on her face.
She had been hit, and her left cheek was red and looked to be
swelling up. For what it was worth, her stalker looked worse. Blood
streamed from his nose and chin, dripping onto Morgan.

Frank spoke first. “Get out of our way.”

His voice was deep and calm. Shawn hoped
maybe he might talk their way out of this.

“No. I can't do that. Frank, we need to
talk.”

The man blinked. “You know who I am?”

“Yeah, I do. So do the police. They matched
your fingerprints to one of the prints on Morgan's car.”

“Police,” the young man growled. He took a
deep breath, then shuddered when he exhaled. Then a determined
gleam appeared in his eyes. “Move, we’re getting out of here.
Together.”

This time, the tone of Frank’s voice had
changed. An edgy nervous quality had replaced the calmness from a
few seconds ago.
He’s going to lose it
, Shawn thought.

Frank tightened his hold on Morgan, pressing
the blade firmly against her neck. Her eyes widened in terror as
her shock melted away. “She's mine. Not yours. I won't leave
without her.”

To bring the point home he pressed the knife
deeper into Morgan's neck and a small crimson trickle slid down the
blade.

“Easy! Easy! Let's talk this out. Frank,
you're drawing blood. You're hurting her.”

Frank blinked. He softened the pressure
against her neck. “I don't want to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt
her. I love her,” he uttered.

Shawn waited and tried to figure what to say
next. Sabrina moaned and Frank glanced over at her before
tightening the knife against Morgan's throat. “We have to go, now.
Drop the gun and back away.”