Page 96 of A Tempting Seduction

Ford paused, his hand halfway to my suitcase. “Think about what?”

“Getting our bags. You lost enough blood on Saturday to make a blood bank stop advertising for a day. You're not lifting anything heavier than a coffee cup until we get home.”

“Ruby, I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.” I stood and blocked his access to the overhead compartment. “You're pale, you've been fighting a headache since takeoff, and I saw you grip the armrest during landing like you were trying not to pass out.”

Jase appeared beside us before Ford could argue further. “She's right, and you know it.” He pulled down both our carry-on bags with ease. “The lady wins this one.” Jase pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack. “Drink this,” he said passing it to Ford.

Ford's scowl would have been intimidating if it wasn't for the slight sway as he continued to stand. “I don't need to be coddled.”

“It's not coddling,” I said, slipping my arm through his uninjured one. “It's called not being stupid.”

Roan and Simon gathered their own bags behind us, both men scanning the other passengers with the automatic vigilance I'd grown used to over the past couple of days. Simon had insisted all five of us travel together, and after Saturday night's attack, I wasn't about to argue with anything that kept Ford safer.

We filed off the plane with the other passengers, but the moment we cleared security, I spotted them. Four people in dark suits standing near the gate, their posture and positioning screaming federal law enforcement. Agent Isaacson stepped forward from the group, and I recognized him from the photos Simon had shown us.

“Miss Miller?” Isaacson was shorter than I'd expected, maybe five-foot-eight, with graying hair and sharp blue eyes that seemed to catalog everything within a fifty-foot radius. “I'm Special Agent Isaacson.”

“Ruby,” I said, shaking his hand. “This is Ford Larson.”

Ford's handshake was firm despite everything, and I caught the way Isaacson's eyes lingered on the careful way Ford held his left arm.

“Gentlemen,” Isaacson nodded to Simon, Roan, and Jase. “I understand we have some mutual acquaintances.”

“We do,” Simon confirmed. “Thank you for coordinating this.”

The other three agents formed a loose perimeter around us as we walked through the terminal. I'd never had a security detail before, and the attention made my skin crawl. Other travelers glanced our way, probably wondering if I was some kind of celebrity. Or criminal.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked Isaacson quietly. “All the agents, I mean.”

“After what happened in Tennessee Saturday night, yes.” His voice carried a grimness that made my stomach clench. “Someone escalated this situation significantly when they sent a kill team after you.”

Ford's hand found mine, his fingers warm and steady despite everything he'd been through. “How many people knew we were flying out today?”

“Too many,” Isaacson admitted. “Which is why we're taking extra precautions.”

I figured we’d go to the parking garage, but instead we went out to the pick-up area outside of baggage claim. There were five black SUVs waiting with their hazards on, blocking traffic.

Isaacson gestured toward the middle vehicle. “You'll ride with me.”

The drive from LAX took twenty minutes through typical Los Angeles traffic, even though we only had to go three miles. I watched the city roll past the tinted windows, remembering the last time I'd been here.

“You okay?” Ford asked quietly.

“Getting there.”

The hotel Isaacson had chosen was exactly what he'd promised. Non-descript, forgettable, the kind of place business travelers used because it was clean and convenient rather than impressive. A faded sign identified it as the Airport Plaza Inn, and the parking lot was full of rental cars and commercial vehicles.

“We've used this place before,” Isaacson explained as we walked toward the main entrance. “Management is cooperative, and the layout works for our purposes.”

The lobby was small but clean, decorated in neutral tones that wouldn't offend or be remembered by anyone. Isaacson handled the check-in while the other agents maintained their perimeter. I noticed how they positioned themselves to watch the entrances and monitor the other guests.

“Room 247,” Isaacson handed Ford a key card. “Agent Martinez will be in 245, Agent Chen in 249. Call if you need anything, but try to stay in your room unless it's an emergency.” He provided Roan, Jase and Simon separate rooms across the hall. All in all, we were surrounded. It was perfect.

Ford pocketed the key. “What time tomorrow?”

“Eight AM. We'll leave here at seven to be the first customers when First National opens.” Isaacson's expression was serious. “I hope whatever's in that safety deposit box is worth all this trouble.”