Page 12 of One Hot Chase

I make my way down to the lobby to speak with Daniel, the desk clerk.

He greets me with a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wilde. How may I assist you?"

"I was wondering if you've met Sabrina Remington."

"Of course. She's lovely."

Time to put my devious plan into action. I lean against the front desk and lower my voice to a softer tone. "Well, here's my dilemma, Daniel. As I mentioned before, Sabrina is my girlfriend, but we had an argument last night. That's why she left in such a hurry. I need to track her down, but she took a taxi and I have no idea where she might have gone"---Yes, I'm pulling out my entire arsenal of lies and trickery---"However, Roger often drops off passengers here at the hotel. Do you happen to have his contact information? I'm desperate to find my beloved. She's unfamiliar with this city."

Daniel hesitates for a moment before responding cautiously. "Um, I know I helped you out once, but I'm not really allowed to give out personal information concerning taxi drivers..."

"Please, Daniel, this once could you break the rules? I'm hardly a serial killer. Couldn't you just slip me Roger's number this once?" I hold my palms together in a pleading gesture. "I'm terribly worried about Sabrina."

Daniel hesitates briefly, tapping his finger on the desk, then nods. "I'll get that number for you, Mr. Wilde. Just give me a moment."

Blimey. Even I'm impressed with how effortlessly I executed this little con. I must be more skilled at deception than I realized.

Daniel hands me a slip of paper. "Here's the number."

"You are a lifesaver."

After spewing so many untruths, I wander into the entryway to wait for both Roger and Daniel. The cabbie arrives first. Daniel points him toward me, and Roger grins as he approaches.

"It's you again, mate," he says. "Heard you lost your girl. I dropped her off at Trafalgar Square, by the statue of the king, about eighteen minutes ago. She might still be there."

"Thank you, Roger. You are a treasure."

"No need to butter me up, sir."

"Perhaps not, but I do owe you a tip for passing the information on to me." I hand him several pound notes. "For a job well done."

"Thanks. You're all right, sir."

"Please, call me Declan."

Just as Roger exits the hotel, I notice my car pulling up outside. I don't recognize the driver, but I suspect Julian is responsible for this gift. I barely give the valet time to open the door before I jump into the vehicle, tires screeching as I speed off onto The Strand. I might be driving a little too fast. If I get pulled over, it doesn't matter. The fine will be insignificant to me. Wealth does have its perks.

When I arrive at Trafalgar Square, I decide to park my car in a garage, which is not something I typically do. But desperate times call for unconventional measures, right? Not sure that's how the saying goes. I make my way to the statue of King Charles the First, hoping to find Sabrina there. But I don't see her. So, I jog across the street to Nelson's Column but still have no luck and continue past the fountains with no sign of her there either. In just twenty minutes, she couldn't have gone very far from where Roger had left me. Frustrated, I turn in a circle trying to think of where an American woman might go to see the sights.

That's when I notice the National Gallery. Would Sabrina enjoy something like that? I have no clue, but I might as well check just in case. After searching every corner of the museum, I come up empty handed. She's gone, and it feels like I've lost her all over again. Exhausted and sweaty, I exit the National Gallery and slump against the building, bowing my head in defeat.

A whistle pierces the air, then a man's voice shouts, "Oy! Come over here. A pretty little bird like you should be legally required to put on a striptease."

"You should be so lucky, moron."

I recognize that voice. It's Sabrina.

My heart races as I jump up and scan the crowd for her. I have to find Sabrina before she disappears. And then I spot her---or rather, the top of her strawberry blonde head. She's standing near Nelson's Column, looking up at it in awe. I start running toward her. As I get closer, I see who was harassing her. It's a group of young men who barely look old enough to buy a pint in a pub.

As I approach Sabrina, she seems to be focused on something, or someone, else. I stand behind her and throw a fierce glare toward the group of young tossers. The moment they realize who I am, their faces turn pale and they scurry away.

Sabrina turns to face me with a displeased expression. "Declan? I told you to leave me alone."

"Yes, you did. But I have a better idea."

"I don't care. Stalking is not an attractive trait." She waves a dismissive hand at me. "Go away, shoo. For good this time."

"I'm not a mosquito, darling." I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close. "Let's have some fun. We can go to my car. It's parked in a nearby garage."

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