Page 12 of Better Watch Out
“What!” Frannie grabbed for the napkin but her impaired vision placed her fingers on his very firm chest and she might as well have touched fire for as fast as she yanked her hand back.
“I’m kidding. Here, let me help.”
Unsure why she trusted the gentleness in his tone, Frannie stood still, holding her breath when he lifted the cloth to her eyes.Oh, sweet relief. The cold creamer compress began easing the burning sensation around her eyes.
“Better?” His breath tickled her forehead, reminding her that other than a name and the vague description that Andrew Bishop had a handsome smolder to give the police, she still didn’t know who this man was. Carefully taking control of the cloth on her eyes, she felt the pressure of his touch lift. Dabbing a bit more of her face, she removed the cloth and was grateful her vision was clearer.
“Aren’t your eyes burning?”
“Yes.”
His short answer drew her attention to the red skin around his eyes making the blue stand out. He watched her watching him, and it made her insides squirm.
“I’m sorry about spraying the pepper spray.”
“It’s fine.”
“My brother gave it to me along with a thousand warnings about how to use it against strange men.”
“You were very capable.”
“I missed your face completely.”
“Because I’m capable.” The edge of Andrew’s lips tipped up before his gaze moved to his watch. “You have five minutes before we need to leave for the airport. Are you packed?”
“I appreciate the whole creamer-in-my-eyes thing but I’m not getting in a car with a stranger.”
“You know my name.”
She eyed him. “Supposedly.”
Andrew lifted a brow and then produced his cell phone again. “I’m a friend of your brother’s, you can check the text messages he sent me with your flight information.”
Frannie flicked a quick glance at the texts and then curled her lip. “Any low-level hacker can produce that.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “I have a business card and my ID.” He pulled out his wallet, produced a card, and showed her his New York driver’s license. The business card with his name on it said he worked for a personal protection agency called Defensemen.
Personal protection.Really, Ryan?Her annoyance with the hotel employees at the front desk returned with equal parts being distributed between them and her brother. She’d made it from the airport to the hotel just fine—why did he think she needed a personal protection agent to get back?
She eyed Andrew Bishop and chose to identify the warm feelings sparking in her chest as agitation. Oh, she’d make this fun.
“I took enough computer classes to learn how to make a fake business card.” She pivoted to swipe her card over her door lock and when the light flashed green, disengaging the lock, she twisted the knob, opening the door an inch. “And I hear fake IDs are as easy to find in New York City as a slice of pizza.”
She left Andrew Bishop and his confused expression in the hallway as she quickly stepped into her room and closed the door behind her. Her heart pounded against her ribs as the adrenaline of the last few minutes seeped through her bones. So why was she smiling?
Turning, she peeked through the peephole and saw Andrew Bishop still standing in the hallway, typing something on his cell phone.
A second later her phone dinged with a message.
Ryan: Frannie, Andrew’s a friend. I asked him to take you to the airport.
Frannie: How do I know this isn’t a trick and you’re actually my brother?
Seriously?
You warned me about these kinds of tricks. How do I know he hasn’t hacked into your phone pretending to be you?
…
