Page 26 of Protecting You
He headed through the living room, flicking lights on along the way, into the kitchen. A pot of coffee had already been brewed.
Alyssa must be awake.
He poured himself a cup, added half-and-half from the mini-fridge—not the cheap little peel-off-the-top deals, either, but a pint-sized container. From a basket of different types of sweetener on the counter, he grabbed two sugars, dumped them into the hot liquid, and stirred.
These were definitely nicer accommodations than a campsite.
He stepped out of the kitchenette just as Alyssa’s bedroom door opened.
“Oh, hey.” She froze on the threshold. “I didn’t realize you were up.” Pink crept into her cheeks.
He probably should’ve put on a T-shirt.
Where he was barefoot and wearing nothing but pajama pants, Alyssa wore jeans and a pink T-shirt. Her hair was wet, a little wavy, hanging below her shoulders.
She was far more attractive than anyone had a right to be so early in the morning.
“Thanks for this.” He lifted his mug. “Exactly what I needed.”
“I’m glad you made it back.”
Was that relief in her voice? “Nobody followed me. As far as I could tell, nobody was watching my apartment.”
“I found the name of the Russian.”
“Already? Is that why your light was on so late last night?”
“I thought it would take longer, to tell you the truth.”
Was it Callan’s sleep-addled mind, or did Alyssa seem nervous?
Interesting.
He sipped his coffee, enjoying the sweet warmth. And the fact that his confident rival seemed anything but at the moment.
“I thought I’d send him the name,” she continued, “and tell him I’m taking a break for a while.”
“You can’t send him the name.”
She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms, the frustration she’d worn the night before flashing in her eyes. “Look, Michael called me an hour ago. He confirmed that Dariush Ghazi is in Boston. He seemed furious that the guy hasn’t been picked up and incarcerated. He said if you thought Charles Sanders is Ghazi, then you’re probably right. Michael thinks I should get out of the city. Not just out but…he wants me to go into hiding.”
“Huh.” Callan set the coffee mug on the table and slid into a chair, nodding to one on the other side, an invitation for her to join him. “That’s not a bad idea. Did he say where?”
Alyssa didn’t move. “Dad’s got a few places that are off the radar. A cabin in West Virginia. A chalet in the Alps. A house on Kauai. I don’t want to go that far away, but I guess Uncle Roger’s vacation house off the coast of Maine is a bad idea. That’s where all the craziness went down last winter, and Michael says Ghazi was there.”
“Is that all the choices you have? No yacht with a crew on standby? No…” He struggled to think of another option. “Paris penthouse?”
“That’s a good idea. I wouldn’t hate hiding out at the apartment…” Her eyes narrowed. “You were kidding.”
“I thought I was.”
“Doesn’t matter. Mom is having it renovated.”
“I guess you could just stay here in this dump.”
She scowled. “They’re notmyproperties.”
“Whatever you say, Paris.”
