Charity House Courtship. Renee Ryan
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would respond with such calculated control.
“If you would be so kind as to come with me,” he added with an edge of warning in his words, “I’m sure we can avoid an unnecessary scene.”
As if coming out of a daze, she tugged on her arm, hard. “Sir, I suggest you release me before I make a scene.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Marc tightened his hold, not enough to hurt her but enough to make his point.
“Who do you think you are?” An impeccable mix of indignation and shock sounded in her voice.
Oh, she was good. She looked and sounded generally taken aback by his behavior.
But Marc had seen that very same expression on another woman’s face. The reminder was enough to harden his heart.
“My name is Marc Dupree,” he said with hard-won authority. “The owner of this hotel.”
“Well, then, Mr. Dupree.” She swept a lock of hair behind her ear with a trembling finger, the only sign of her agitation. One he would have missed had he not been watching her so closely. “I must compliment you on your fine establishment.”
She punctuated her words with a brilliant smile. The same one she’d given Joshua Greene earlier.
Marc had seen enough. He motioned to his security man, Hank, watching from across the room.
Well-versed in the need for propriety, the big man sauntered over in a casual manner.
“Hank, please escort Miss—” Marc leveled a look on the woman. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of learning your name.”
A sound of despair slipped from her lips as she fixed her eyes on the rotating doors at the other end of the lobby.
“Now, now, that wouldn’t be wise, Miss...”
She snapped her gaze back to his. “Oh, honestly, this is absurd.” Indignation masked any signs of her earlier anxiety. “My name is Laney. Laney O’Connor.”
“I trust that’s your real name.”
“Of course it’s my real name. Why would you ask such a question?”
Marc lifted a single eyebrow. “I find women like you often use a variety of names.”
“Women like me?” She frowned, as if trying to discern the meaning of his words. The moment understanding dawned, her eyes widened. “Oh...oh.” She yanked once again on her arm. “You insult me.”
He almost believed he’d offended her. Almost.
“Hank, please escort Miss O’Connor to my office.” Marc lowered his lips to her ear. “This will go much easier for you if you cooperate without a fight.”
“I...I don’t understand. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
They both knew that was a lie.
“Then you won’t mind if I take a look inside your satchel.” Giving her no opportunity to respond, he let go of her arm and commandeered the tiny bag dangling from her wrist.
Shock and fury flared in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ensuring that nothing unsavory occurs in my hotel.”
Gaze locked on the tiny satchel, she lunged for him.
Marc shifted to his left.
She went stumbling past. One step, two, by the third she caught her balance and swung back around to face him. “Mr. Dupree, please. You...you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Panic sounded in every word.
Marc remained unmoved. How many times had Pearl given that very same appeal, with that precise look of distress in her eyes?
“A mistake?” He shook his head. “Not likely.”
“Please,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping forward. “You have to believe me when I say I’ve done nothing improper in your hotel.”
Yet.
The unspoken word echoed in the air between them. Marc nearly called her bluff. Except...
Her desperation appeared real.
Something in him, some hidden part he thought long dead, reconsidered confiscating the ill-gotten money and returning it to its rightful owner. Perhaps, as Miss O’Connor had claimed, Marc had misjudged the situation.
He nearly relented and gave her back her reticule without further delay. But then he remembered what he’d witnessed moments earlier. One of Denver’s most prominent citizens—a federal judge, no less—had given this woman a large sum of money. In a very secretive, clandestine manner.
Something unsavory was afoot in his hotel. And Marc needed to collect all the facts before he could act.
Of course, questioning Miss O’Connor would require privacy.
Decision made, he hitched his chin toward Hank. Needing no further instruction, the other man took her arm.
She didn’t fight this time, nor did she try to appeal to Marc’s compassion. She did, however, release a defeated sigh, as though she understood she had no other choice but to cooperate.
“Mr. Dupree.” She wrapped her dignity around her like a protective shield. “Once I have explained my actions here tonight I trust you will return my reticule.”
Marc leaned forward until their noses nearly touched. “That, Miss O’Connor, will depend completely on what you reveal.”
Chapter Two
Laney tried to formulate a new strategy as the large, beefy man named Hank escorted her through the hotel lobby. Unfortunately, Marc Dupree followed closely behind them. So closely, in fact, that she could smell his spicy, masculine scent.
The heady aroma left her slightly light-headed, and her mind filled with the same hopelessness that had been gnawing at her all evening.
No. She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.
Maintaining her outward calm, she kept her steps slow and steady, her expression mild. Despite what the hotel owner might think, the five hundred dollars in Laney’s reticule belonged to her.
Of course, per her deal with Judge Greene, Laney couldn’t disclose the reason he’d given her such a large sum of money. She would have to come up with another explanation, one that would protect the promise she’d made and still satisfy Dupree’s suspicious mind.
As if reading her thoughts, the annoying man moved in closer still, narrowing the distance to mere inches. “Thinking up a good lie, are you?”
Arrogant brute.
He thought he had the situation all figured out.
When he was so very wrong.
“I’m warning you now,” he continued in his low, husky baritone. “I’m not a man easily fooled.”
Her breath caught on a gasp. Oh, she had no doubt he was a sly one. The sense of danger pulsating out of him nearly overwhelmed her. But she coaxed her fear into compliance and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
Hank’s hold on her arm remained remarkably light. Laney considered making a break for the rotating doors behind her. But she sensed if she tried to escape, the hired ruffian would tighten his grip to painful proportions.
Mind working quickly, she considered other options. Even if she managed to get away from Hank, there was the matter of Marc Dupree. Laney could feel his suppressed anger as he walked directly behind her.
Again, he leaned in close. Too close. “I wouldn’t try to run if I were you.” The warning sizzled in the tiny space between them. “You’re no match for Hank. Or me.”
Laney