Protect Me by Selma Wolfe Read Free Book Online Page B

her mutinously. Hope stared right back. She knew
they were fighting silently over something, but she had no idea what, because she
wanted to protect him and as far as she knew he wanted that too, she’d been
hired to protect him.
    “Look,
just let me go check on something, alright? You can stay here and… call the
police or something.” His gaze darted around her body like he was hunting for a
way out. He wouldn’t find it.
    “Absolutely
not,” Hope said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Unless you’ll tell me
where you want to go and why?”
    “No, it
isn’t… can I just… fine, okay, fine.” It looked like it about killed him to say
it. Hope didn’t understand, but right now she didn’t have to.
    She
took a firm hold on his upper arm and opened the door. The alarm was still
blaring in their ears. She dropped down to her knees, opened the door, and
cautiously looked out in both directions.
    “What
are you doing?” Rick asked, sounding perplexed despite his annoyance.
    “People
tend to look at eye level, not up or down,” Hope said under her breath. She
stood. “Clear.”
    They
made their way through the halls slowly, with Hope taking appropriate care at
each corner and door. Thankfully there were actually three panic rooms in this
monstrosity of a house, and it only took five minutes for them to reach the
panic room in the East Wing.
    “You
really did map this place out. I don’t think even I would’ve known how to get
here this fast,” Rick said in grudging admiration as Hope locked the door and
ignored him, pulling out her cell phone.
    First
order of business - police. Second - Trinity.
    No,
wait. First order of business was Trinity, who had left three missed calls and
a voicemail on her phone. Hope wanted to just call, but she shoved down the
impulse and made herself listen to the voicemail first.
    “Where
did you get that phone?” Rick asked. He sounded horrified. “That’s not the one
I gave you. That one is from the stone age. Cavemen would be embarrassed to
carry that thing.”
    “It’s
mine and I like it,” Hope informed him just before the recording started.
    “Hey
there honey, just wanted to let you know I set the blasted fire alarm off. I
wanted to try out these biscuits - oh, well, you don’t need to know that, I
suppose. Anyway, don’t work yourself into a tizzy over it. Everything’s fine!”
    “What
did she say? What did she say?” Hope ignored him and moved to the control
panel, flicking on screens.
    Sure
enough, the kitchen view showed a bunch of smoke issuing from the oven and a
harassed-looking Trinity opening windows and flapping a towel at the dark smog.
As she watched, Trinity opened the last big window, and the alarm finally
stopped.
    Hope
heaved a sigh of relief. She checked all of the screens, just to be sure, but
there was no activity on any of the rest.
    “Sorry,
what were you saying?”
    She
turned just in time to see Rick disappearing through the panic room door.
    After a
moment of hesitation Hope turned everything off and headed for the door. She
stepped through it and pulled it carefully closed just in time to see Rick
jogging around the corner.
    The
internal debate was short-lived.
    Hope
had learned a long time ago how to move quietly, and stealth was barely
necessary even at a run on these plush carpets.
    One of
the most common client complaints was feeling smothered by their protection. In
a world of tell-alls and leaks to TMZ, it made sense that clients demanded a
degree of privacy. Generally, the common wisdom was to give your client as much
space as possible. If it wouldn’t affect the mission, then you didn’t push.
    It had
never to Hope’s knowledge been recommended to sneak after your client to find
out his secrets.
    Rick
was moving fast, at a flat-out run now. But he was untrained; his run was less
efficient than Hope’s jog and he didn’t know how to be truly quiet. So she
followed him through the halls and into the west wing with