Page 27 of Locked and Loaded

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Son of a bitch. Where the hell had he come from? A man that size should have been impossible to miss. Add in the broad shoulders, dark hair, and the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover rather than in a back alley, and he should have stood out the moment he walked into the restaurant. Instead, he'd appeared beside her so quietly it was as though he'd materialized out of thin air, and that unsettled her almost as much as the fact she'd noticed just how damn good-looking he was.

“How did you find me?” she demanded. She’d been so fucking cautious, every step she took. How could he have tracked her down?

“You’re not as careful as you think.”

She glared at him. “You do anything, and I’ll scream. People will come running.”

“You could do that,” the man acknowledged, “but we can help each other.”

“I don’t need your help,” she snarled. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

The man seemed to be studying the restaurant. “I know you want to find your sister, and I can help you with that.”

She frowned at him. How did he know about that? “I didn’t—who are you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that was far too confident for a man she'd just threatened to scream at. Worse, it transformed an already unfair face into something genuinely distracting.

“I’ll tell you if you help me.” Even his voice was enough to make her lady parts quiver.

“I’m not playing games with you,” she declared. “Leave. I want to finish my meal in peace.” The sooner he left, the sooner she could stop being aware of how much space he occupied simply by sitting beside her.

He glanced at the table. “It looks good, but unfortunately, I can’t do that. I can’t leave you here unprotected.”

“I think I’m pretty damn good at protecting myself, thank you very much. I don’t need your help,” she reiterated.

“Lennox, you need help far more than you know,” he said as he studied the restaurant. His gaze flicked back to her, lingering for the briefest second before returning to the room. It wasn't the lingering look of a man admiring a woman. It was something far more unsettling. He was assessing her, and somehow that felt even more intimate.

“Save me the condescending masculine bullshit. I don’t need anything from you. You’re not my hero or my protector or anything,” she huffed. He was making her flustered, and she resented it.

He shifted in his chair until he was facing her completely. The movement brought him just a little closer, close enough that she caught the clean scent of soap and cedar, and suddenly the table felt a great deal smaller. “Lennox,” he said quietly, leaning in just enough that no one else would hear him. "You have no idea how much danger you're in.”

“I don’t have to realize anything. You just need to leave me the hell alone. Leave, or I’ll scream. I’ll raise the alarm and the whole hotel will come see what the problem is.”

His lips closed into a firm line, and suddenly his gaze cut to the other side of the restaurant. She felt rather than saw the shift in his energy. She glanced around.

“What is it?”

“Behind the column on the other side of the restaurant,” he said.

She tracked his gaze back. “There’s a man there, and he’s studying you. A big guy with black hair. That was not ideal, but now a second man has joined him. Over by the bar. A wiry guy wearing a navy blazer. Do you know what wearing a blazer in this weather means?”

Lennox quickly identified the two men he was talking about. Both pretended they weren’t watching, but the man beside her was right. They were studying her.

She tried to play it off. “I’m sure a lot of men glance at me. My head isn’t covered.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” he responded. “Head scarves are not legally mandatory here. And that’s not the kind of look they are giving you. Again, as I pointed out, they are wearing blazers in this heat. Why would they be doing that?”

She stared at him. He had to be wrong. Had to be. She so desperately wanted to believe that, but her instincts were telling her that this man sitting with her was telling her the truth. The men were wearing blazers to hide their guns. She looked at him and realized that his shirt was untucked and hanging down. Did that mean he had a gun as well? She glanced again and caught the man at the bar staring. With a shock, she realized she’d seen him before, in Portugal, and she was pretty sure he’d been one of the assholes shooting at her earlier in the day.

“Fuck.”

“You recognize him?”

“Yeah, I recognize him. He’s been following me since Portugal, and I think he was one of the ones who shot at me today.”

The man beside her frowned. “So, you see, I’m telling the truth.”