The Manhattan Encounter. Addison Fox
Читать онлайн книгу.
believed Isabella. Recognized something in her prescriptive attention to details.
And just when had he gotten so fanciful?
Liam knew his brother had a point. He also knew Campbell and the computer expert he kept on his team, T-Bone, knew what they were doing.
“Fine. We’ll keep digging. What has you upset now? You said something about a problem this morning.”
“I need you to check the video feed in my lobby. My doorman left his post and never saw a man come in and out of the lobby, but the guy was there when Isabella and I got off the elevator. I don’t like it.”
Campbell made quick work of the request, the cameras in all of their buildings already connected to his security feeds. Liam knew it wasn’t a common luxury afforded to all residents of his building, but when he’d demanded the additional access—and sweetened the deal with an incremental payment—the building’s ownership had been surprisingly willing to negotiate.
Add on the reduced surveillance services the House of Steele had readily negotiated for said building owners and they had a rather nice arrangement going.
“Nothing on the feed.”
“No one in the lobby at all?”
“I see the doorman take a call and leave his post. I see the lobby sit empty for a while and then I see him come back.”
“And no one’s there? Nor did you see me get out of the elevator.”
“Nope.”
“Then we have an even bigger problem than I thought.”
Another string of expletives echoed through the phone. “Bugger got through my security. I’ve got that feed programmed to alert me to any tampering.”
“And nothing popped?”
“No.”
Liam heard the frustration more clearly in his brother’s voice on that single word than all the ranting and cursing that had come before. “I’m calling for an escort to the airport and delaying our flight until tomorrow morning. Brief Kenzi and Jack on what’s going on and we’ll game-plan when I get in.”
“Be careful, Liam. Whoever’s behind this? This guy knows way more than he should.”
“Got it.”
He disconnected with his brother and for the first time had to question what was really going on. He’d faced tough jobs before—they all had—but this was on a different level.
And he couldn’t shake the fact that whoever was after Isabella knew the House of Steele was going to help her.
“I’m sorry about before.”
She turned away from the window, her hands still fluttering in the silky material of her blouse where it hung around her waist. He wasn’t sure why that constant worrying of her fingers had him intrigued, but it did. The subtle proof she was human touched him way more than it probably should.
“I take it your brother didn’t find anything.”
“Not yet.”
“And I take it he also doesn’t believe me when I say someone was in my room last night.”
Liam cycled through the conversation in his mind. He’d been more than careful to keep any indication from his side of the conversation that Isabella might have been wrong yet she’d sensed it anyway. “Campbell just likes to be sure. Especially when he can’t find a technological answer to the problem.”
“And I take it the lobby visitor wasn’t visible on your building’s cameras?”
“Right again.”
Her face fell at the news, whatever lingering hope that had shimmered in the depths of her green gaze fading. He could still taste her on his lips, the subtle flavor of her coffee a shocking aphrodisiac. The urge to give comfort had him crossing to her, determined to offer reassurance.
“Then I shouldn’t be putting you in danger. Or taking up even more of your time with a full day of delay.” Her subtle feint to the left ensured she maintained a physical distance between the two of them and he stilled, surprised by the stiff set of her shoulders.
Where was the responsive woman who’d clung to him, fully engaged and kissing him back?
And why did the sudden urge to drag her back into his arms pulse through him with the heavy throb of a line of bass drums?
Their eyes met and that bass throb amped up another level, pushing him to take some action. To reach out once more and touch her, just to see if she was as soft as he remembered. To see if her lips were as enticing...
Liam shook off the thought and took a few steps back.
Isabella Magnini was a job, nothing more. He’d take care of her and see his responsibilities through and move on. It was what he did and it was how he lived his life. He’d built a structured, orderly world around himself that he controlled.
And he’d be damned if a frightened woman who’d discovered the potential to unleash hell changed any of that.
* * *
Isabella stayed where she’d been told and watched Liam through the sliding doors of one of Heathrow Airport’s many concourses. As he’d confirmed with his brother, he’d made good on his plan of hiring an armed escort to take them to the airport and was now thanking the man for his services.
The exchange was brief but it gave her the opportunity to observe him in action. The late morning rain coated the air a misty gray yet he stood out against it, as bright and vibrant as the sun.
The long, trim lines of his body captivated her, but it was something beyond the physical—something far more ephemeral—that drew her in as she traced his form with her eyes.
Competence shone from him in the simplest of actions. His quick handshake with their guard. The flash of his hand as he snagged his rolling suitcase. Even the quick flick of his wrist as he brushed drops of rain from his hair.
All of it bespoke of a man comfortable with himself and his surroundings, secure in who he was.
Was that what made leaders? No, she quickly amended, that’s what made conquerors.
The idea took root and she let it simmer as Liam walked closer, evaluating him through that new lens. Their elevator kiss the day before had certainly reinforced the notion and the events since—the quick, competent change in plans, the work with his brother back at headquarters, even the possessive order to stand inside the doors and wait for him when they’d arrived at the airport.
Here was a man used to giving orders he expected would be followed.
So why was she letting the simple fact that their elevator kiss meant nothing to him chafe at her like sandpaper on skin?
The thought had kept up a steady tattoo in her brain for the better part of the last day, even in the face of the very real—and shockingly present—danger she was in. Even worse, she’d spent a near-sleepless night focused on that while he looked fit and ready to conquer the day.
“Ready?”
She nodded and knew full well his question was meant to indicate their walk to security, so why did she feel something more? Something deeper at the question?
Was she ready?
She’d hidden from life for so long—had willingly buried herself in work and nothing else—that she’d missed out on so much. Her twenties, certainly, and if she kept it up her thirties would end up a blur as well. A blur of lab notes and beakers, computer analyses and charts and graphs that might calculate any number of things but couldn’t assuage how lonely she was.
She was ready for something more and now that the life she hadn’t put much stock in was in danger, she knew that more keenly than ever.
Liam