Chapter Six

After lunch, Weaver met Andrea at the elevator to escort her back to Karli’s suite. He waited for her to board, then followed. As the door closed, the only sound was the faint whoosh of a motor. Seconds passed and seemed to stretch to hours.

“I met Karli while I was changing planes in Miami,” Andrea said, trying to break the ice. “She seems like a very nice person.”

“That’s good. Sometimes it helps to know that the person you’re keeping alive genuinely deserves to live.”

She wondered if he’d protected people who hadn’t deserved to live, but left the too-heavy-for-an-elevator subject alone. “Is this your normal type of assignment? This bodyguard stuff, I mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough that in our line of work, nothing is normal and no two assignments are alike. Most of them require keeping someone safe, directly or indirectly, even if that someone is a slice of John Q. Public.”

“If bodyguarding isn’t your specialty, then why did they pick you for this job and put us together as partners? Am I supposed to be learning the ropes from the experienced guy, or is our partnership random and you were just next in line for an assignment?”

His shoulders stiffened. “I take orders, and I don’t question why I’m chosen for an assignment.”

He poked the elevator button again as if extra force could make the slow-moving cab descend faster. Andrea decided she’d struck a nerve. She’d been making small talk, but his body language hinted the subject was bigger than “small” and involved a lot more than he was saying. Interesting.

Putting a smile in place so as not to offend, she chuckled as they stepped off the elevator. “Darn, I thought I was going to learn all the secrets of being a successful Ranger.”

His expression was deadly serious. “There’s only one secret: don’t be a hero.”

Without another word, he walked her the rest of the hallway to the cabin door and left.

Back inside, Andrea filed away their conversation for later consideration. After removing her alien shoes, she took her time wandering around the rooms, familiarizing herself with the location of light switches and furniture, measuring the distance between doorways so she could move around stealthily in the dark, and analyzing the routes of evasion or escape.

The windows, or ports as she reminded herself they’d be called, didn’t all open. The two opening ones near the doorway sitting area were slightly more than a foot in diameter and not large enough for an adult to crawl in or out. The mattress and box spring sat on a raised platform over built-in drawers, and no one would be able to hide underneath. The closets and dressing area were huge. They would present the most problems as far as making sure no intruders concealed themselves while she was out.

She finished her inspection by opening every drawer to check out the contents. A button on the side of her dresser drew her attention. She pressed and waited to see what it controlled. When nothing happened, she filed away a question about its function.

Satisfied with her knowledge of her surroundings, she glanced at the box of information on the accent table by the door. She should sit down and attack that next.

A knock on the door interrupted her musings. Was Weaver back and ready to jump at her if she opened the door?

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Fran, Ms. Stone. Your personal maid.”

Andrea hesitated. A few seconds went by. “Yes?”

“Um…you paged me.”

Andrea huffed out her breath and opened the door. The woman was the same one she’d seen with the captain, and the name embroidered on her uniform over the little black swan was Fran. She had to be legit. “I didn’t page you. You must be mistaken.”

Fran frowned and removed a square pager from her belt. Her frown deepened as she stared at the display. “I’m sorry. My pager says you did, but it must be malfunctioning. I’ll have my husband look at it. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” She started to turn away.

Andrea glanced over her shoulder at the button she’d pushed on the dresser. “Wait. I could have paged you by mistake.”

The woman stopped. Hooked her pager back on her belt. Nervously wet her lips. “May I do anything for you while I’m here? Would you like me to draw you a bath after your long flight?”

Andrea would have preferred a long, bracing shower. But she remembered the ornate tub that probably wouldn’t have been installed unless Karli was a bath person. “Now that you mention it, I would like to change into something more comfortable. And yes, a bath would be nice.”

The maid came into the cabin and swung into action, filling the tub, pouring in bath salts, laying out towels and a fluffy robe. Andrea hung back wondering what she was supposed to do while the other woman worked. Her father had hired a succession of housekeepers after her mother left, but she’d never had a maid, never been waited on, and was unsure how she should act. Was she expected to go do something else, sit and watch, or just ignore the other woman’s presence? The superrich probably had a protocol for interacting with the help, and she didn’t want to embarrass Karli by violating any unspoken rules.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Fran finally came out of the bathroom and announced, “Your bath is ready.”

Andrea started toward the door. Surely being polite was acceptable. “Thank you.”

“If you’d like to hand me out your clothes, I’ll take them to the laundry.”

Andrea bit her lip. She should have realized Karli wouldn’t just drop her clothes on the floor, and she should have been the one to ask Fran to wait. She undid the buttons on the dress and stepped out of it, then glanced down at her utilitarian cotton underwear. Wearing Karli’s underwear seemed wrong, and she had brought a couple of changes of her own in her backpack. For now, she’d stick to her own panties. Karli’s bras wouldn’t fit her anyway. She could wash out what she was wearing after the maid left.

She handed out the dress. “That’s all for now, thank you. You can leave.”

“Shall I come back in an hour to tidy up?”

“No need. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you like me to lay out something for you to put on when you’re done with your bath?”

Andrea pictured the jeans that she’d found in the dresser. “No, I’ll find something when I’m ready. I’ll page you if I need anything else tonight.”

“Would you like me to come this evening and turn down your bed?”

“No. Please, do me a favor and take the rest of the afternoon off.”

Fran’s smile drooped. She nodded and said, “Yes, Ms. Stone. I’ll just put your shoes in the closet before I go.”

Andrea stood in her underwear and waited for the sound of the cabin door clicking shut behind her maid. Then she peered around the corner to confirm she was alone. Satisfied the room was empty, she padded across the bedroom and locked the door.

The knots in her muscles loosened but didn’t release. Her father was far from a pauper, and she’d spent her whole life in comfortable surroundings. The house had been cleaned daily, meals had been cooked and served, her clean laundry had appeared in her closet and bureau drawers. She’d thought she knew how the rich lived. But obviously she didn’t know the true meaning of the word pampered. Being a billionaire’s sister might be a little more difficult than she’d imagined.