Page 23 of Shadowed Agenda

“I don’t know. We can compare notes later,” Finlay said. “I want you to know that I like Regan and meant what I said about being a friend. Please don’t be mad at her for contacting me. This isn’t about you. It’s about her. Isla used her, and she’s feeling helpless. By calling me, she’s taking some control of the situation.”

Pavlo scrubbed his face. Finlay was right. He’d been an ass. “I didn’t look at it that way.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re a guy.”

“Not you, too,” he groaned.

“I have a feeling Regan and I are going to be best friends.” Finlay threw her head back and laughed.

Chapter eleven

Reganclosedthehotelroom door and leaned her forehead against the smooth wood. She was finally alone and surrounded by silence. One minute, that’s all she wanted, to stand there and do absolutely nothing. Not even think.

“Deadbolt,” she heard Pavlo growl from the other side of the door. He’d cleared her suite before rushing to change for tonight’s banquet.

Regan stuck her tongue out at him, even though he couldn’t see her. The childish gesture at his annoying, excessive vigilance unexpectedly lifted her dark mood, and she smiled.

She turned the deadbolt, and her smile died. The solid thunk of the bolt sliding into place was a comforting illusion. Anyone could get into her suite. Last night had proven it. According to the hotel’s key card records, no one had entered her suite while she was away. Javier had uncovered traces that the record had been tampered with.

There had to be a master key that opened the deadbolt in emergencies. Regan wouldn’t fool herself into believing the Senator’s followers couldn’t access it.

She inhaled a deep breath and told herself to grow up. Shit happened. She needed to deal with it.

At least Emmeline was fine. Regan had called her during a break in the photo shoot. She couldn’t understand half of what her daughter had said, but the squeals of delight punctuating every sentence reassured her Emmeline was enjoying her stay with her cousins.

Mackenzie hadn’t been fine. She’d been terse when Regan had called. Maybe it was because her youngest was teething. Four kids, one teething, and no one to give you a break at night. Regan figured she’d be just as bitchy.

Javier had contacted a local PI at Oak Lake early in the morning. He was watching Mackenzie’s cottage. Shadow Defense’s team would arrive tomorrow.

Regan should have told Mackenzie a PI was watching her and the kids, but Mackenzie would blame her for placing everyone in danger.

Guilt rippled through Regan. Mackenzie would be right. She hadn’t expected the backlash from her refusal. Sidestepping by refusing to name the mysterious celebrity wasn’t enough for the Senator’s supporters.

Accepting to do the private book signing for Mrs. Aster was the only way she could keep everyone safe. It didn’t sit well with Regan. She didn’t back down from bullies, but there wasn’t another option.

After the banquet, she’d work out something she could live with and ask Isla to tell Gage Palmer she’d accepted. Maybe he had some sway with the group harassing her.

The photo shoot had gone longer than expected, and she needed to hurry to be ready. It wouldn’t look good for the two guest speakers to be late for the dinner.

Pavlo had given her thirty minutes to get ready. Thank goodness she’d set out her clothes before leaving this morning.

Regan checked herself out in the room’s full-length mirror. It was probably gauche to wear the same royal blue dress she’d worn to the late-night show, but she couldn’t afford another purchase from the boutique in the lobby.

The phone on the bedside table rang. Regan picked up the receiver on the second ring, worried something had happened at the cottage. “Hello.”

“Ms. Christenson, this is the front desk.” The tightness in Regan’s chest loosened. “We have a delivery for you. We’ve sent someone up to your suite.”

“Thank you.” The words had barely come out of her mouth when there was a knock at the door. “It appears they’re here.”

She hung up and hurried to the door.

“These were just delivered.” Regan recognized the young bellhop who held out a bouquet.

“Just a minute.” Regan scurried to the coffee table where she’d left her purse and pulled out a bill. He’d mentioned he was attending Columbia. Regan had done some guest lecturing there. She knew the cost of tuition was high.

“Thank you very much, ma’am.” The guy beamed as she took the flowers. Regan knew every dollar helped when you were putting yourself through school.

He shut the door behind himself, and she turned the deadbolt.