Stranded With The Suspect. Cindi Myers

he’ll catch the Prophet when he comes to pick me up at the hotel. But I don’t think he’s coming. Why would he risk it?”

      “Besides the fact that he thinks he can get away with anything?” Michelle asked.

      “Why did he try to kill you?” Andi asked. “Why would he want to kidnap Hunter? None of that makes sense to me.”

      “I don’t know,” Michelle said. “Most of what he said didn’t make sense—but Ethan thinks it’s because I know something that could get him into trouble.”

      “Ethan is the officer who was helping you?” Andi asked.

      “Yes. He’s been great.” Michelle’s voice softened, her tone almost wistful. “I can’t believe how great he’s been.”

      “What does he think you know that could hurt the Prophet?” Andi asked.

      “I wish I knew what it was—I’d shout it from the rooftops.”

      “Simon says he thinks I must know something that could hurt Daniel, too,” Andi said. “That’s why he hid me away here in Denver.”

      “So, what do you know?”

      “Nothing. I swear. I can’t think of anything.”

      “You spent the most time with him and were closest to him,” Michelle said. “I’ll bet you saw a lot of things you shouldn’t have.”

      “No.” In spite of all the time they’d spent together, she really didn’t know much at all about Daniel Metwater. He had kept her ignorant, changing the subject whenever she asked about the past or his plans for the future, or even what he did in the hours she wasn’t with him. She knew only what he wanted her to know, and that wasn’t anything beyond his public image as a sincere, wise teacher and leader.

      “Stay away from him, Andi,” Michelle said. “He wants people to think he’s good and has their best interests at heart, but that’s not true.”

      “I’ll be careful,” Andi said.

      “Stick with Simon,” Michelle said. “The Rangers had Metwater figured out a long time ago. I wish now we had listened to them.”

      “It’s a little strange, hearing you, of all people, talking about trusting the cops,” Andi said. The Prophet had always taught that law enforcement officers were not their friends, and Michelle, who had apparently had her share of run-ins with the police, had agreed wholeheartedly with this assessment.

      Michelle laughed. “And now I’m in love with one. I can hardly believe it myself.”

      “I’m glad things are working out so well for you,” Andi said, ignoring the stab of jealousy that lanced through her. Michelle sounded so happy. As if she lived in some alternate universe different from the one Andi occupied. It didn’t even seem possible to be that happy in her world.

      “Take care of yourself,” Michelle said. “And keep in touch. Let me know when your baby is born.”

      “I will.” They said goodbye and Andi hung up the phone. She had hoped talking to a friend would soothe her, but the conversation had only reinforced the reasons she had to be worried and afraid. All this emotional upheaval couldn’t be good for the baby. She needed to find a way to stay calm.

      She phoned room service and ordered a cup of warm milk. That had been her mother’s remedy when Andi struggled to get to sleep as a girl. She set down the phone, tears pricking her eyes at the memory of her mother. Cancer had taken her almost ten years ago. Everything had changed after that—Andi’s father had become more focused on his political career, more concerned with power and prestige than with his daughter, except when she could be an asset to his image.

      If her mother had lived, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Andi wouldn’t have fallen for her father’s bodyguard—a man who turned out to be married. Already pregnant, Andi had discovered the bodyguard’s deception and her father’s corruption. Wanting to escape the dishonesty and shallowness of her life, she had found solace in the teachings of Daniel Metwater. She was sure he was a man she could respect and love, and she hated men like Simon Woolridge for making her doubt her beliefs.

      Now Michelle was telling her Simon was right, and she didn’t know what to think. Had her judgment really been so poor? Or was Daniel Metwater extremely gifted in deceiving people?

      A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts, and she checked the peephole and recognized the livery of the hotel staff. Relieved, she opened the door, only to find herself shoved backward into the room.

      Daniel Metwater tossed the tray with the cup of milk aside and grabbed Andi by the wrists. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “We have to get out of here.”

       Chapter Three

      Simon paced the length of the hotel room, too unsettled to sit still. When he had booked the room, he had imagined using it as a base to keep an eye on Andi’s suite, but the layout was all wrong. He couldn’t see her door clearly from here, and the walls were too thick, the carpeting too plush, for him to hear anyone approaching.

      Under other circumstances, he could have worked with hotel security to set up a surveillance camera to monitor her door. But that kind of thing took warrants—and it took time. Time Simon didn’t have.

      Metwater was running, and he was desperate. Maybe he would leave town, or even leave the country and forget about Andi altogether, but Simon didn’t think so. For one thing, he didn’t have the resources he would need to make a getaway. For another, he had already proven he didn’t like loose ends or unfinished business. He had hidden Andi away here—or thought he had—when the Rangers began closing in. He didn’t want the cops talking to her.

      And Metwater would know that Andi’s twenty-fifth birthday was only a few days away. Once her trust—several million dollars—passed to her, he could use his power over her to control the funds. A man as greedy as Metwater wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to have that kind of money.

      Simon had the Russian to consider too. He had seen the man leave the hotel, but he could have easily circled around and come back in through another entrance. Though the man hadn’t directly threatened Andi, Simon couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a danger to her.

      Not on my watch, Simon thought, and stepped back into the hallway. He could station himself outside Andi’s doorway as a guard, but Metwater would see him and avoid approaching. That might keep Andi safe, but it wouldn’t trap Metwater. Simon wanted to stop the Prophet before he hurt anyone else. That meant staying hidden and getting the jump on him when he did approach.

      He scanned the hallway, his gaze coming to rest on a recess that housed a decorative plant. A real plant, he noted as he squeezed in behind it, not a silk one. The space was cramped and uncomfortable, but he settled in as best he could, gun drawn, eyes focused on the doorway to Andi’s room and the hallway leading up to it.

      The events of the past two days dragged at him—the rescue of Hunter Munson, the search for Michelle and Ethan, their safe return and then the long drive to Denver to get to Andi before Metwater could reach her. He fought sleep by focusing on the Russian. Where did he fit into the picture? Metwater’s twin brother had supposedly been murdered—rather, assassinated—by the Bratva, the Russian mob, though the Chicago police had never found enough evidence to formally charge anyone with the crime. The case was still open.

      When Russians had shown up in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and two people associated with them had ended up dead, Daniel Metwater had panicked and demanded protection from the Ranger Brigade, though he would never say why he thought the Russians were after him. The Russians turned out to be part of a smuggling ring that was trying to move into the park, and not after Metwater at all, but the cool, sophisticated mask of the Prophet had slipped for those few days, allowing Simon to see how frightened he really was.

      Did