Page 3 of Pick Yourself Up
Not good. Not good. She kept her gaze steady on his. “I’m sorry, it’s company policy. I need to see some identification.”
The other two men moved to the sides of the desk, and Amber’s fingers trembled. She kept her eyes on the man in front of her and her fingers on the keyboard.
The man opened his jacket and put his hand on the gun holstered at his side. “Which room?”
Fear shuddered through Amber, but she pressed Enter and the computer shut down.
Gray Santoro didn’t love his job. Some days, he downright hated it and today was one of those days.
Like much of his time in the army, bodyguarding alternated between long periods of boredom and intense action no one wanted.
It might be time for another career change.
What would his mamma think? As a single mom, Rosina Santoro had been a typical Italian mamma. Fabulous cook, steely determination, family first attitude, and a splash of fiery temper aimed at anyone who threatened her own. Although sometimes that temper had been aimed at her own, too.
He missed her so damn much. His sister too.
He missed their essential goodness, the qualities that had made them remarkable people who loved with their whole hearts.
Maybe it was time to find a job that gave him more time to be around decent people. Sometimes the guarding business was all about protecting entitled assholes who’d pissed off other entitled assholes.
He knew the company he worked for would never take on clients who were criminals, but sometimes it still felt like protecting the wrong side.
His current client, Brandon Wells, was an investor from Los Angeles who had come to Chicago to talk to wealthy people about how to invest their money to make even more for themselves.
In the hours since Wells had arrived, Gray hadn’t heard anything criminal, but he hadn’t heard anything to lead him to believe this was a man who would be investing any of his new profits into companies aiming to make the world a better place or putting food in the mouths of the hungry.
It was all about using mind-boggling amounts of money to generate more profits. Not a word about what those profits would be used for.
Not that any of that was Gray’s business. His job was to guard the client, not to judge them. But he’d judge them privately, anyway.
Wells had hired two bodyguards from Gray’s company, along with two more from a separate company. The man wasn’t taking chances and had money to throw around. Bodyguard services weren’t cheap.
Wells had two assistants with him, but his orders were very clear. Gray and his buddy Al Dolan, along with the other two guards, had been hired to protect Brandon Wells. The other two were to fend for themselves. Which was a crock of shit and another reason for Gray to judge Wells. Who the hell didn’t worry about the safety of his employees?
Rich, entitled asshole for sure.
Time to look into that career change.
Gray stood near the suite’s door leading to the hallway. If anyone tried to enter, they’d have to go through Gray.
Not that entering would be easy. Gray had never been in The Sidderlight before, but the hotel impressed him. Solid security, classy feel to the place. The suite’s door had a deadbolt and a bolt across the door. Same with all the rooms in the suite. Getting to Wells would be a hell of a challenge.
Gray would be sure to recommend the hotel to his boss. Along with tendering his resignation?
Gray wasn’t the type to quit a job without another one lined up. Even though she was no longer alive, his mamma would figure out a way to slap him upside the head if he didn’t have a job. So, what did he want to do next?
He figured he’d have a few hours to think about it. It wasn’t like Wells wanted to chat, and that meant none of them were chatting while Wells worked on his laptop at the desk.
Thinking of his mamma had Gray thinking of his sister. Angelina Santoro had been a bright light. She’d been born with cerebral palsy and had died at seventeen. Her lungs had simply stopped working one night, and she’d died in her sleep. Peacefully.
Angelina had been a girl who loved her peace. Gray had spent hours with her in the garden. Angel’s limbs hadn’t worked well, but she’d loved gardening and plants, anyway.
The three of them had spent hours in the garden at the back of the house. Gray and Rosina talked about every plant and set them in Angel’s lap while she sat in her wheelchair. She’d explored the textures and scents before Gray or Rosina set them in the ground.
When she’d scented basil, her face had lit up and she’d squealed with delight. She’d loved all the spices, with mint being another favorite.
Angel loved the textures of the purple hyacinths and the soft fuzzy angel’s hair artemisia. He’d earned lots of happy squeals when he told her she’d been named for the soft pink flowers.
