Page 56 of Mistletoe and Malice
A nudge to her arm brought her gaze snapping up to the man beside her. “You’re holding up the line, Hudson.”
She chuckled at his teasing wink. “Sorry.” She took the next plate, served the roll, and passed it on with her usual “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Take a break if you need it. They have folks to cover for us.”
“I’m fine.”
Sort of. Along with Colton’s confident statement of how soon she would no longer need them, needhim, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last note. John had sent Colton a picture of the open card after the envelope had been processed. A picture she’d badgered him into sharing with her.
My dear Miss Hudson,
Your confidence is going to be the death of you. Don’t get too comfortable with your goons. They’re only human, after all. Dispensable. You’d be surprised how easily.
See you soon. Very soon.
Colton hadn’t appeared the least bit concerned by the not-so-veiled threat.Dispensable?What did that mean? That the creep could do something to her guys? Harm them in some way? Or worse, take them out? She couldn’t live with herself if something happened to any of them on her behalf.
Colton gestured for the kitchen manager. “Can we give Miss Hudson a quick break?”
Riley grabbed his arm. “No, I’m fine.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “No. You’re not. Fifteen minutes and you can come back.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, take some time. You haven’t stopped since you got here.”
She waved at two men seated at a table nearby, and they made their way to the kitchen door, manned by one of the additional Petersen security operatives provided for the event, since it would’ve been impossible to vet everybody. Paul and Trevor had both been posted at the entrance since they got there, checking coats and bags for weapons, as well as comparing each face to the close-up images from the security videos for anything familiar.
Riley, too, had been studying all the men around his height who came through the line, her focus going to their hands before their faces. So far, nothing. No scratches or bandages.
Her nerves hummed like live wires. Maybe Colton was right. A break might be good.
Aproned up now, their two subs took their place, and she followed Colton to a room behind the kitchen designated as a break room for the volunteers.
He led her by the elbow to a rectangular metal collapsible table. “Sit. I’ll grab us some coffee.”
Giving in instead of arguing seemed like the better bet. “Thanks.”
At the counter, he poured coffee into two Styrofoam cups, doctored his with sugar, and brought them back with two creamers and a packet of sweetener for her. “Not exactly your preferred Americano, but hopefully it’ll perk you up.”
“I’m sorry I kept drifting off. I don’t usually have such a hard time focusing. I love this event.”
He pulled up a chair next to her. “You’re exhausted, Riley. In every way.”
Thankful they were alone in the small room with the wall heater puffing out air full blast, she poured one creamer and the sweetener into her cup. “How do you do it?” She took a sip and let the bitter liquid slide down her throat.
After taking a hearty swallow of coffee, he winced and set the cup down on the table. “That stuff is terrible.”
“The worst. But I’ll take it.”
“So, how do I do what?”
“Work with so little sleep.”
He shrugged. “I have to admit, the first couple of days on your detail were a bit brutal. But I’d just flown in on Saturday evening from London, so I had a bad case of jet lag.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “Why did Mack put you on my detail so fast, then? You should’ve taken a break.”
“I guess he had faith I could handle it.”
