Page 105 of His Ruthless Match
He glanced at me, shaking his head. “Nothing. Whoever or whatever is targeting Genevieve might as well be ghosts.”
Of fucking course they were. If the most dangerous men in The Below couldn’t figure out who was causing this, would it ever end? And what could I possibly do about it?
When we arrived, the guards stationed at the entrance gave us curt nods before stepping aside, having been warned about our disguises. Jareth and I made our way up to Genevieve’s suite, where she was waiting with her bags already packed. Her appearance startled me. Genevieve, usually so poised and glamorous, looked like a shadow of herself. Dark circles marred her eyes, and her normally flawless skin was pale. Her hands trembled as she gripped the handle of her suitcase.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” I said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get you somewhere safe, with no rats.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Genevieve said, her voice trembling. “Let’s just go.”
Jareth set down a bag he’d brought with him and pulled out a nondescript hoodie, sunglasses, red wig, and a baseball cap. He held them out to her. “Put these on.”
Genevieve hesitated, looking at the items like they might bite her. “I’ll look ridiculous,” she protested weakly.
“You’ll look like someone not worth following,” Jareth countered, his tone firm. “We’re not taking chances.”
I stepped in, my voice soothing. “It’s just temporary, Genevieve. The important thing is keeping you safe.”
Reluctantly, she donned the disguise, pulling the hood low over her face. Once she was ready, we moved quickly and efficiently. The guards formed a protective ring around Genevieve as we made our way to the car. Jareth kept one hand on the small of my back as we walked.
The tension in the air was palpable as we exited the building. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every passerby a possible enemy. I scanned the surroundings instinctively, my senses on high alert. Even the distant sound of a car door slamming made my shoulders stiffen. My body thrummed with adrenaline, and I could feel the slight tremor in Genevieve’s hand where she gripped my arm tightly.
“We’re okay,” I murmured to her, though the words were as much for myself as for her. She nodded faintly.
When we reached the car, Jareth opened the back door for Genevieve and gestured for her to get in. She hesitated, her eyes darting around nervously.
“Genevieve,” Jareth said softly, his tone low and reassuring. “You’re safe. Get in.”
Her gaze flickered to him, then to me. I squeezed her hand gently. “He’s right. Let’s go.”
She got in, and I slid in beside her. Jareth hopped in behind the wheel and pulled onto the road. Genevieve fidgeted with the zipper of her hoodie, her leg bouncing anxiously.
“Do you think the media will find me?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“No. You’re off their radar. We’re taking every precaution, Genevieve. Trust me.”
“They always find me,” she whispered, almost to herself. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her hands, which were twisting in her lap.
“Not this time,” Jareth said firmly from the driver’s seat. “We won’t let that happen.”
Genevieve glanced up, her eyes wide and glassy. “How can you be so sure?”
Jareth’s gaze flicked to her in the rearview mirror, steady and unflinching. “Because I’ve dealt with worse. And because Eva doesn’t let anyone slip through the cracks.”
His words seemed to calm her slightly, and she let out a shaky breath. I put my hand on her knee and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got you, Genevieve.”
We arrived at a quieter, more discreet hotel on the outskirts of the city. The guards pulled up in front of us, then got out and swept the area with practiced efficiency to make sure the location was secure. Jareth stepped out of the car first, scanning the surroundings before motioning for us to follow. He remained close, his presence a solid barrier between us and any unseen danger.
“Let’s move,” he said, his voice low. He put his hand on the small of my back again as we walked, his other hand resting near his concealed weapon. It was a small gesture, but it steadied me more than I cared to admit.
Once inside the hotel, I approached the check-in desk while Jareth escorted Genevieve to a corner where she could stay out of sight. The clerk glanced up, looking mildly bored, but straightened when I said, “Reservation under Eliza Morgan.”
The clerk nodded, typing quickly into the computer. “Here are your keys, Ms. Morgan. Room three-oh-five.”
I took the keys and turned back to find Jareth guiding Genevieve toward the elevator. Her hood was pulled low, and she kept her head down, but I could see the tension radiating off her in waves.
When we reached the suite, Jareth stepped inside first, checking every corner with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times before. I waited in the hallway with Genevieve.
“Is it clear?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
