Page 37 of Evidence of Deceit

He held her until she pulled away.

“Let me grab a glass of water—maybe wine would be better—and then we’ll talk.” She walked into the kitchen and came back with a glass of wine and sat down. “Okay, then,” she huffed. “I’ve been on a nightmarish adventure.”

She settled into the chair, slipped off her shoes and tucked her legs under her.

“I know what Mikey told me and what the tapes showed.What happened? Where did you go?” asked Joe, hoping he kept the panic out of his voice.

She told them about the mysterious man, the meeting with Keith, how he wanted to meet in his room but she wouldn’t, and that he claimed that he would sign divorce papers.

Joe got angrier and angrier. What was wrong with that man? What part of leaving Claire alone didn’t he understand? By the time Claire finished with her story, Joe had made up his mind.

Sam had been staring at a message on her phone from Phil and relayed it to Joe and Claire. Phil found out where Keith was staying. They already knew that from Claire, but he had nothing on the mysterious man. Phil thought Keith had flown down in a private plane, which is why they didn’t know he was back.

“Okay, then. Nothing more I can do tonight, so I’m taking off,” Sam said.

Claire yawned and stood up. “Well, I’m going to bed. There isn’t anything else that I can tell you. Except that this whole experience had tired me beyond exhaustion. I just want to go to sleep and, hopefully, forget everything that’s happened.” She said goodnight and walked down the hall to her bedroom.

Joe started to walk Sam to the door. No. He stopped. This wasn’t over. That bastard was not getting away with this. He asked Sam to stay at the house for a while. Told her that he had something to do.

“I hope it’s nothing stupid.” She cocked her brow and stared at him.

“Nope. Just have to go out for a little while,” he said, clenching his teeth.

Sam squinted her eyes for a minute, stared at him, turned around and sat in a chair.

Joe took out his truck keys and drove into the hotel district. He got to the Art Deco hotel, gave the valet his keys and strode in. He didn’t look left or right. He walked past all the art and people milling around. Took the elevator up to the top floor. Knocked on Room 2801. When Keith asked who it was, Joe said room service.

The door opened, and Joe placed his foot in the doorway to prevent Keith from closing it. He stepped in, closed the door.

“What the hell?” objected Keith. “Who are you?” He stared at Joe for a minute. “Oh yeah.” He nodded to himself. “The loser bodyguard.”

Joe stared at him.

“Yeah, I know about you. Poor homeless boy. Thief, troublemaker, the kid no one wanted.” Keith looked him up and down. “Why Claire would want a loser like you, someone who will never amount to anything other than being a goon when she could have, has, someone like me who is rich and successful is beyond my comprehension.”

Keith looked so smug.

Joe continued to stare at him.

“So, how does it feel to be a loser?” Keith smirked.

Joe pulled back and punched him in the gut. Keith was knocked backward. His arms wind milled until a chair stopped his flight, and he bent over, holding his stomach.

“You bastard,” Keith hissed as he stood, his face contorted into hatred.

Joe stared at Keith. His perfectly coiffed hair was now a mess, his shirt was rumpled and half off. He didn’t look so pretty anymore.

“You asked me how it feels to be a loser. From my standpoint, damn good. Stay away from Claire, or the next time I won’t be so nice.”

Joe turned and walked out the door.

Chapter Twenty

Keith was spent. All he wanted to do was get rid of the bimbo lying in his arms and go back to his room, shower, and read a bit before falling asleep, the altercation with the bodyguard last night a distant memory. But he couldn’t forget. His gut still hurt, but he put aside the pain—for now. Whatever her name was had been fun while it lasted. She was more enthusiastic after receiving the Tiffany gift he gave her, but she still had visions of a tomorrow. What she didn’t get was that there was not going to be a tomorrow and definitely no more tonight—for her.

Snoring slightly, she snuggled a little into his arms, rubbing her breasts against his chest.Ugh. Enough already. He moved over, but she didn’t wake up. He shook her gently, but she still didn’t wake up. Then he slapped her ass lightly and shook her again. Maybe he shook a little too rough.

She woke up, barely opened her eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

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