“If you say so.” Noli drops the subject when she spots Collin coming out of the coffee shop off the hotel’s lobby.
“Maple-cinnamon latte for you.” He holds out a drink for her. “Rose, I couldn’t remember for sure, but I took a guess that you’re a cold-brew type.”
I greedily grab for the drink, mentally applauding my sister for picking such an upstanding man. One that absolutely nailed my coffee order. A red-eye from Green Bay to LAX was our best option for getting here, but I’m going to need all the caffeine I can get to survive this weekend.
Collin was able to get us checked in while Noli and I were outside, so we take the elevator to the fifth floor and go to our respective rooms.
I toss my bag on the bed and flip on the television, scrolling through the guide until I find coverage of the golf outing. On the screen, Holland is playing with a foursome of his buddies. They’re relaxed, dressed in shorts instead of their usual long pants, and they’re all smiles. I scan the crowd behind them, andall the attendees seem like they’re having fun, enjoying the LA sun. The broadcast switches to a camera angle of a makeshift red carpet, and a familiar black Escalade comes into the frame.
My heart rate spikes with awareness. Anton will step out any second. My body is bracing for another sight of him. I went five years without this sort of exposure. Now it’s like my systems are on Anton overload. They aren’t handling it well, to be honest. They’re all snapping and crackling with long-dormant electricity. It’s a fire hazard.
The man in the passenger seat steps out and opens the back door to the SUV. Anton is the first to exit. He smiles and waves at the crowd lining the red carpet. Even through the TV, I can hear the uptick in screams and squeals. Anton’s smile is practiced but kind. I know this isn’t his favorite sort of event, but he does it for the greater good. I have no claim to him, but watching him work the crowd, I feel a surge of pride in my chest. He’s a really good guy.
A guy you have no business swooning over, Rose!
I need to get my head in the game, Troy Bolton style. Anton’s safety depends on it.
He turns to shake the hand of someone in branded, pro-am apparel. Must be a big-wig for the charity event. The camera stays trained on Anton, and I’m marveling at his calf muscles when a flash of yellow enters the frame and leaps on his back. It’s a woman with long, wavy blonde hair. She’s wearing a yellow halter top and white cut-off shorts. She fits in with the rest of the bystanders out enjoying a day on the links, but she’s currently got her arms wrapped around Anton’s neck, and the next thing I know, she yanks him to the ground.
No.
I dive for my bag and wrench out my phone, all while trying to keep an eye on the TV. The camera is still rolling, and there’s a dog pile on top of Anton.
No. No. No.
Guilt rips through me as I speed-dial my dad. I should be there. I should somehow be able to save him from this. What am I good for if not for that?
“Lennox.” My dad’s no-nonsense tone snaps me out of my spiral.
“Something happened at the golf-outing. Anton went down.”
There’s a curse from the other end of the line.
I glance back at the TV, and they’ve gone to a commercial break. I swear under my breath.
“Where are you?” my dad asks.
“At the hotel. I saw it on TV.”
“Hold on.”
The next three minutes take three years off my life. I pace around my room like a bull in a cramped pen. I grab for my small purse, in case I need to head to the golf course—or God-forbid, the hospital. I have no idea if Anton was hurt in the skirmish. What if that woman injected him with something? What if he’s dead? I catch a glimpse of my expression in the full-length closet mirror. My skin is practically translucent.
“It was a crazed fan.” My dad’s annoyance is clear through the phone line. “Apparently, she’s a known issue. This is not the first time she’s attempted to get close to him.”
I flop onto the bed, breathing for the first time since I saw the ball of sunshine launch herself at Anton’s back. All that stress over a crazed fan. Seriously?
“She’s being escorted off the premises by security. Bates is fine.”
“Good.” I release a shaky breath. My heart rate is still accelerated, and I sit on the edge of the bed to collect myself. I’m more rattled than I should be. “That’s good.”
“Get yourself in a better position to look out for him, Rose. You shouldn’t be calling me for information on your principal. You should be there in person. That’s what you’ve been hired to do. Penwick is counting on you. So am I.”
As if my own guilt wasn’t enough…
“I was planning to head to the golf course shortly, and—”
“I don’t need excuses. I need action.”
