Page 9 of Locked and Loaded

“Aywa. I speak Arabic just like you, but my accent is better. Yours is all New York.”

The kid grinned.

Dragan left and headed down the alley. He had to get into the Royal Mansour. That wasn’t going to be easy. Unless… He flagged a cab and made a call.

The guard at the gate of the hotel stopped the cab, and upon hearing Dragan’s name, waved it inside. It was good to have friends in high places. Dragan had dropped cash over into the front seat and was out of the cab before it had even rolled to a stop.

“Mr. Maric,” a man said as he approached. He was dressed in a suit and had that air of authority about him. “I’m Youssef Hadid, manager here at the Royal Mansour.”

Dragan offered his hand, and the two shook.

Hadid continued, “Mr. Drake called personally to ask for our assistance in this matter. I assured him that we would do our utmost to help you.”

Dragan smiled. “I have no doubt.” He hated the politics of things like this, but understood it was a necessity. He’d called Jameson Drake, owner of the five-star Jasmine Door luxury hotel chain and client of Callahan Security. Drake had called Hadid as a personal favor. It was Dragan’s job to make sure that word got back to Drake that everyone on this end had done as he asked.

The rules were clear, and both sides understood the consequences if one of them didn’t hold up their end of the bargain, not that Dragan was going to stay at the Royal Mansour anytime soon, or even enter its walls again. But he’d learned to never say never. And if he didn’t handle this well, he would not be welcome. He also had to be careful not to do anything that would reflect badly on Drake. It was a delicate dance and yet just another Thursday to him.

“Did you find the woman?” he asked.

“Of course,” Hadid inclined his head. “We have her. Right this way, please.” He turned and started across the lobby. “Bad business. The number of people trying to cheat our customers gets worse every year. Designer clothes in particular is an area we try to keep a very close eye on.”

“I’m sure,” Dragan agreed as they turned down a small hallway. The door at the end seamlessly blended into the wall. Not really noticeable except for the key card panel that was located on the right side behind a table that held a huge vase filled with colorful exotic flowers.

Hadid used his key fob, and they went through the door. The opulence of the lobby was left behind at the door. This side was all office space with standard utilitarian furniture and the requisite potted plants.

Hadid guided Dragan down the hallway and turned to the right. Another few feet and they entered an office that was large and well-appointed. It wasn’t large enough to be Hadid’s office, but it had to belong to someone important.

The man behind the desk stood and offered his hand. “Mohammed Fassi, head of security.”

“Dragan Maric.” The two men shook hands.

“I will leave you,” Hadid said as he went to the doorway. “Please let Mr. Fassi know if there’s anything else you require.”

Dragan nodded. “Thank you.”

Fassi got to his feet and gestured to the door behind him. “She is in here.”

He opened the door, and Lennox looked up. When her gaze locked with Dragan’s, her face paled. “You,” she said.

He offered her a cold smile. “Yes, me.”

She shot to her feet and addressed Fassi. “I don’t know what he’s told you, but it isn’t true. None of it is true. You have to believe me.”

Fassi just stared at the woman and then turned abruptly away from her. “Did you need any assistance?”

Dragan shook his head. “Just point me to the back door.”

“Right this way.”

Dragan took Lennox by the upper arm and pulled her to her feet. She tried to tug free, but he propelled her forward. He kept his hand clamped around her bicep but didn’t put pressure on it. He wasn’t here to hurt her. He just needed information, and then, depending on what she said, she was free to do as she pleased.

“You’re hurting me,” she snarled.

He glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow. There was no way he was hurting her and they both knew it, but he gave her points for trying. She was a cute little thing. Sexy in an I’m so pissed off I’ll kill you kind of way. Women rarely stayed angry at Dragan. They either left because he didn’t respond to their anger, or he did respond and they ended up in bed. It was sort of novel to get that look from a perfect stranger. It was actually a bit of a turn-on, much to his surprise.

They wove their way through the back hallways of the hotel. The few times they met other people, Lennox looked at them hopefully. But they didn’t even spare her a glance. She even tried to call out to one waiter, but he studiously ignored what was happening. He knew who signed his paycheck. He merely glanced at Fassi, who dismissed him with a small shake of his head. The server went back to minding his own business.

Dragan was impressed at Lennox’s tenacity. She was definitely a feisty one. He admired that in a woman. There was no way she was giving up. It made him wonder what the hell this was really all about. He was looking forward to debriefing her far more than he should’ve been.