Page 13 of Hunted Hearts
Chapter Three
Juliette tried to focus on the applause of the audience still ringing in her ears when she settled in the back seat of the black SUV with her violin case tucked snugly against her side.
She wasn’t riding a post-performance high the way she normally would be, but her heart was still beating hard.
Maybe because nothing felt right—and it was all because of Theo.
The man hadn’t spoken a single word to her since she stepped onto that studio stage. But he seemed to be all around her, blocking her path, radioing ahead for transport and barking orders at whoever was on the other end of the line.
Maybe because she heard him utter the words “full lockdown” and “clear the perimeter” like they were in a war zone instead of going to the hotel.
Then there was her team, obeying every order in silence, which made her feel like the outsider of the group, questioning if this was really necessary.
When they arrived at the hotel, Theo had the entire floor cleared. Guests were evicted from the rooms they were staying in, leaving only her and her team on the floor.
As he led her to her room, she noted just how big he was, tall with shoulders like a bodybuilder and one giant hand hovering near his side. She didn’t watch much TV, but she’d seen enough cop shows to know they stashed their weapons in the waist of their jeans.
She didn’t bother trying to keep up with his long legs and continued at her usual pace, her violin case in hand.
He issued an irritated huff after seeing her fall back for the third time. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.
She threw him a sideways look. “What is this? The presidential detail?”
“I’ve guarded a president in my career. This is nothing like that.”
She blinked, both at his gruff tone and what he’d said. Guarding presidents? This man really was the real deal.
They reached the hotel room door and he opened it for her.
She stepped inside and looked around. The place resembled a war room rather than a cozy suite to rest for the night. Her team was already assembled, taking up the sofas and chairs in the sitting area.
As Juliette entered, Henri pushed lightly to his feet to greet her. Rachel, Chris and Harper were all watching her.
Juliette tugged off the lightweight jacket she’d slung on over her street clothes and tossed it on a chair. “I thought we were done panicking. What is all this?”
Theo closed the door and bolted it—twice. When he faced her, she saw that she had little control over what went down from here on. He was in charge, and he wasn’t even giving room for no to be an answer.
“We need to talk about threats.” His gruff tone grated against her senses like gravel on pavement.
She sent Rachel an imploring look. Her publicist offered a sympathetic smile and scooted over on the sofa, patting the cushion for her to sit.
With a resigned sigh—but not too resigned—Juliette settled on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for Theo to get on with the show.
He didn’t sit. He stood on the edge of the group, legs braced wide like fallen tree trunks and his arms folded over his expansive chest.
A ripple ran through Rachel, and Juliette shot her a questioning look. Then her gaze snagged on Theo’s bulging biceps and any words she was about to say died on her lips.
He swept his gaze over the group. “I want to know any concerns you’ve ever had regarding Juliette’s security or your own. Even if you thought it was something small.”
A silent ripple ran through everyone. Then Rachel cleared her throat.
“London,” she said.
Juliette barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I told you; somebody left the door open. Nothing more than a mistake. You know London is full of old buildings. Sometimes doors don’t latch.”
Theo’s eyes bored into her. “Was anything moved in your room? Missing from your things? Left behind? Did you find any notes—or scorpions?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
