Page 14 of Elling & Jackie

Chapter 6

"Paula, there are twoorders for towels. Check your texts." Jackie waited until she received confirmation and disconnected the call. That was the second time tonight Paula hadn't answered her texts, and she'd had to call and get her moving.

The housekeeping department was made up of college students, and she hated to let any of them go when they were working as part of their internship, but she couldn't afford any complaints from the guests. In today's highly competitive market, Colman Hotel relied on good ratings to grow and stay in business.

She clicked over to the security screen for the Fourth Floor. Validating Paula pushing the cart down the hallway doing her job, she moved her attention to the schedule that needed to be sent to headquarters before her shift ended.

The front door opened. The hum of traffic out on the street filtered through the lobby. Jackie raised her head with a smile on her face to greet the customer.

A middle-aged man wearing a navy colored suit with a matching tie strode in her direction with a briefcase. She leaned forward prepared to help in any manner she could to make his stay enjoyable.

"Good evening." She took in the way he scanned the lobby before directing his attention to her. "How may I help you?"

"I have a meeting with Vance Campbell in Room 42." The man's serious green eyes let her know he wasn't one to make idle chitchat about his day.

"I'll let our guest know you're here. What name can I give him?" She picked up the phone receiver.

"Hatfield."

Glancing at the computer screen, she found the information for Room 42. The call went through. "Hello?"

"Hello. This is Jackie from the front desk of Colman Hotel. There's a Mr. Hatfield here for you," she said.

"Send him up," said Mr. Campbell.

"Right away, Mr. Campbell." She disconnected the call and raised her gaze. "You can go up to the Fourth Floor. The elevator is—"

"I know where it's at." He lowered his chin and walked away from the desk.

She schooled her expression at his abruptness. Usually, businessmen were talkers. Used to traveling and being away from their family and friends, they struck up conversations easily. That guy reminded her of a cop. She'd seen their attitude toward Brikken her whole life.

Not that the guy worked for the government or knew who she was.

The door opened again. She looked forward, and warmth flooded her face at the same time she shivered. What was the Slag member doing coming into the hotel?

He walked straight toward her. Long strides, emphasized by his boots thunking against the tile as if warning her of trouble.

With her sitting down, she tilted her chin the closer he came. He was intimidatingly tall and broad, almost regal with his blondness and high cheekbones. She'd never seen someone like him before. It was hard to guess his age. Maybe somewhere between thirty and forty-five years old.

He had wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as if he squinted in the sunshine a lot. There wasn't a strand of gray hair on his head.

The tattoos on his chest peeked above the collar of his T-shirt. He wore the Slag vest and, in the light, she could read the patch depicting his position within the club. He was Slag's Sergeant-at-Arms, and his name was Elling.

Realizing she stared, she blurted, "You need to leave."

Whatever he planned; he couldn't do it in her hotel. She was in charge.

He dropped the duffle bag he'd carried inside and leaned against the highback partition on her desk that served as a counter. She pressed against the back of the chair, needing to put distance between them.

"I need a room," he said.

"Here?" Her voice squeaked, and she swallowed. "You want to stay at the hotel?"

"Problem?" His rough voice begged her to argue.

She had a huge problem with him staying here. For one, no bikers had ever stayed here. For two, Slag MC was Brikken's enemy. For three, she lived at the hotel.

Her hands shook. She moved the mouse, looking at the computer screen. Needing to buy time, she pretended to see if any rooms were available when she knew exactly how many were vacant.

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