A Silverhill Christmas. Carol Ericson

We can’t give out our guest’s room numbers. If you give me your friend’s name, I can call the room.”

      Damn. No way Tori would be using Zherkov for her last name. Rio chuckled and rolled his eyes. “To tell you the truth—” he peered at her badge “—Marissa, I met the young lady at a bar earlier tonight. Didn’t catch her last name.”

      She pursed her lips and raised her brows. “I suppose I can do a search on her first name, as long as it’s not too common.”

      “Tori.” Rio let out a long breath. “She’s staying in a suite if that helps.”

      “It does.” The clerk clicked some keys on her keyboard and picked up the phone. She listened for several seconds and then shrugged. “Your friend isn’t in her room, or at least she’s not picking up.”

      A trill of alarm rushed up Rio’s spine. He abandoned the horny tourist act and reached into his backpack for his wallet. He smacked a CIA ID badge on the counter and narrowed his eyes. “Ma’am, it’s vitally important that I get that room number…now.”

      With eyes wide, she scanned the badge and his picture. Then she drew back and fumbled for a piece of paper. Nice and polite never did work for him, but forceful and threatening always did the job.

      “You don’t need to write it down. Just tell me the number.”

      It took her two tries to babble out, “Fifty-one twenty-five. Take the elevators past the pool and across from the spa.”

      He slung his backpack over one shoulder and jogged across the pool deck. Damp grass squished between his toes as he made his way to the darkened spa and the bank of elevators.

      Maybe Tori didn’t answer her phone because she was afraid it might be Alexi. But if she wanted access to his compound, she’d have to talk to her ex sometime. She could be in the shower.

      Rio punched the elevator button with his fist until the doors whisked open. On his way into the car, he bumped shoulders with an intoxicated man stumbling from the elevator. The man grabbed his date’s arm and scowled at Rio.

      “Watch whereya goin’.”

      Rio skewered the drunk with a lethal gaze, and he tripped against the woman. She tugged his arm. “Let’s go, Adam.”

      The doors closed on the couple, and Rio’s muscles tensed as he rode up the five floors to Tori’s suite. The elevator deposited him on an open floor facing the beach and the ocean. He crossed the tiles toward an alcove that looked like it contained two rooms.

      As he drew near to fifty-one twenty-five, a low voice rumbled from the door, which was ajar. A woman’s voice responded, high-pitched, frantic.

      Adrenaline pumped through Rio’s body and he charged the door, kicking it open. The door hit a body, and a large man broke away from Tori, his hands dropping from her throat. Rio bared his teeth and drew back his fist.

      “Stop.” Tori grabbed his forearm.

      Rio glanced down into her green eyes and she had the temerity to scowl at him. Hadn’t he just saved her life? Twice now? Or was it three times? He dropped his fist.

      “It’s okay. I know this man.” Tori stepped behind Rio. “And he was just leaving.”

      Tori’s attacker grunted as he eyed Rio’s still-clenched hand. “Who’s this guy?”

      “I don’t know. A guest at the hotel, I suppose. Are you staying on this floor?”

      Rio bent a kink out of his neck and flexed his fingers. He almost blew his cover in front of one of Alexi’s men. He scanned the burly man from his greasy hair to his dirty running shoes. Definitely one of Alexi’s goons.

      “Yeah, I just came up to get my wife a sweater when I heard the commotion in here. Are you sure you’re okay?”

      “I’m okay.” Tori straightened her spine. “Just a little disagreement.”

      The man’s face split into a grin, displaying rows of bad teeth. “A disagreement.”

      Rio shrugged and backed away to the door across the alcove, delving into the pocket of his shorts, pretending to search for his key card.

      “You’ll pass along my message?”

      “Sure, but don’t get your hopes up.” The man turned and ambled toward the elevator while Tori shut her hotel room door.

      Rio watched from the corner of his eye until Alexi’s man disappeared into the elevator, and then he spun around and banged on Tori’s door.

      Her muffled voice came from behind the door. “Who is it?”

      “It’s me.”

      She flung open the door, her brows drawn over her nose. “You almost stepped in it, cowboy. If Alexi’s thug reported back to my ex that I was in town with a bodyguard in tow, I’d never get near that compound. Not to mention your own gig would blow up in your face.”

      “You’re welcome, princess.” He brushed past her in to the spacious suite and dropped his backpack on the coffee table. “The next time you’re getting manhandled by a giant with greasy hair and an acne-scarred face, I’ll keep on walking.”

      Tori’s shoulders slumped as she closed the door and locked it. “Thanks. I’m glad you came to the rescue even though you could’ve screwed up my plans. That guy scared the crap out of me.”

      “What did he want and how’d your ex know you were in Maui?”

      “One of his guys saw me in Lahaina and tracked me back to this hotel. Not that I was trying to hide from Alexi, and I explained that to my uninvited guest.”

      Rio sucked in a breath. “Has Alexi been tailing you?”

      “No. Believe me, the hike left early enough this morning that I would’ve noticed if someone were following me.”

      “So did you get a chance to tell Alexi’s guy that you’re in Maui to see your son?”

      She nodded, running fingers through her tangled curls. “I tried to assure him I didn’t want any trouble but told him I needed to speak to Alexi.”

      “But you are looking for trouble.”

      Tori crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder against the door. “What are you doing here?”

      “I came to apologize.” Rio bent forward and opened the door to the mini bar. No beer, just little bottles of wine that he could finish off in a few gulps.

      “Really?” She pushed off the door and joined him at the minibar. She reached over his shoulder, her hair a whisper against the back of his neck. She snagged two bottles of chardonnay from the fridge and waved one in his face. “Want one?”

      “Sure, but don’t look so cheerful. I’m still not agreeing to your plan.”

      She tossed back her hair and twisted open her bottle with a crack. A red mark marred her creamy skin, and Rio traced his finger along her jaw.

      “Did he do that?”

      Tori shivered. “He got kind of carried away when he slapped his hand over my mouth to stop my scream.”

      Scumbag. Rio’s fingers wrapped around the sweating bottle so tightly, it almost slipped from his grasp. He cupped Tori’s face with his other hand.

      “Are you all right? Do you want some ice?” He held up the wine. “A cold bottle?”

      “A drink will do me.” She put her lips to the bottle and took a swig, but her hand shook and she swayed on her feet.

      Rio set his wine bottle on top of the minibar, placed Tori’s next to it and rested his hands on her shoulders. The cotton of her T-shirt, stiff with salt water and sand, stuck to the rough pads of his fingertips. “You need a warm shower and probably something to eat, right?”

      “Those