Chaos & the Geek (Grace Grayson Security #1) - Elizabeth Stevens Page 0,2

apartment/hotel complex that would cost more per night than a month of my rent. The towels were embossed with The Mayhew’s emblem and were so soft I could have just snuggled up to them and fallen asleep. I rubbed myself over vigorously, only just realising I was shivering from cold.

“Anything else I can do, miss?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. You’ve already done more than enough.”

“All right. I’d best hop on back to work, then. The boys will bring your coffee when it’s done. On me.” He gave me that friendly wink again.

“Thank you, Johnson.”

He gave me a little salute and strode back to the front doors.

I grabbed one of the dry towels and put it on the great wingback chair before I sat down and tried my brother again. I knew that calling him was the best way to get hold of him. He was the sort of guy who didn’t pay attention to his phone unless it was making incessant noise. His notification tone just wasn’t long enough, and he still had an unread voicemail I’d left him four years ago.

But still no answer. Knowing he was probably working, I resolved to just try again later.

A nice young guy brought my coffee over and asked if I needed anything else, to which I assured him I was fine. He didn’t look completely pleased I was there, but I assumed that had more to do with the fact that he didn’t want to cop any flack for dishevelled little me being there than he was feeling superior.

I sat in my own corner of the world, my hand wrapped around the warmth of the mug, the Jameson sending a pleasant burn through me, and trying to get hold of my brother. Finally, he picked up.

“Sorry, Bert. You’ve only got like two minutes. What’s up?” Patrick answered.

That was my loving brother. Okay if I was completely honest, he was incredibly loving. He just worked a seriously hectic job and I was lucky to get any time to talk to him, let alone see him. But it was preferable to him jaunting around the world on top secret barely-not-suicide missions in the name of other people’s safety.

“I need a ride when you’ve got time?” I hedged.

“Time?” he scoffed, but I knew he was berating himself, not me. “Where do you need a ride to?”

“Anywhere that isn’t near Dannie or Brent.”

“Why?” his voice was hard. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say, Dannie sampled my boyfriend before I did,” I replied wryly.

“I will rip that ungrateful fucker a new one!” he growled.

“All right. Settle down, tiger. Do you have time to get me or not?”

He grunted as he thought. “You don’t want to call Farrah…?”

Damn him knowing me so well. “I just figure it’ll be weird with Dannie involved. I just need some space.”

“You sound like you’re holding up remarkably well?”

“I’m ignoring it.”

“Bert, you can’t do that.”

“I can while I’m sitting in the foyer of the swankiest place this side of town,” I hissed.

“Fuck!” he snapped, and I wondered what had happened. “Wait. You’re at the Mayhew? Okay. I can grab you in about…an hour?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll get Rollie or Tank to cover for me. It’ll be fine. It’s nothing big anyway.” I heard him pause, but my brain had shorted out and I didn’t respond. “Amber?” he pressed.

“I… Uh… You know what…?” I mumbled. I wasn’t going to be able to wait an hour.

“Shit. I gotta go. I’ll see you in an hour. Love you!” he yelled, and I was listening to dial-tone as the first feeling broke through my numb defence. And of everything that had happened that morning, the only thing I felt was panic.

I felt like the world had suddenly fallen into slow motion as a tall, lean man in a light grey suit, black shoes, white shirt and black tie jogged down the stairs at the other end of the foyer. He was a specimen of true beauty, his suit tailored to perfection as his eyes passed over the foyer like a king surveying his kingdom. He kicked his chin in greeting to the lady at the front desk as his feet lightly touched the floor. He ran his hand through almost-black hair – that had been shorter last time I’d seen him – as he strode purposefully across the foyer towards where the guy with the coffee had come from.

Nearly eight years and he still had that alpha-male look about him, that ridiculous confidence that made girls seven years