Page 91 of Coveted

Lucan must send out an alert, because security people in black suits and earpieces pour down the corridor. Despite the dim light, many wear sunglasses. They spread out, searching and securing each room they pass. Everyone seems so cool and collected, except me.

A woman with a no-nonsense blonde ponytail and pale blue gaze beckons to me. “Miss Marlowe, if you’ll come with me.”

It feels strange that she knows my name. I’ve never seen her before, yet apparently she’s been briefed on me.

My veins still fizzing with stress, I let her usher me to a side room. Two guards stand by the door, constantly scanning the corridor.

The woman speaks into a radio. “Target secured.”

Me. I’m the target.

“The medieval exhibit room,” I say, trying to be helpful. “That’s where I was attacked. Lucan went there.”

The woman nods. “Understood.”

My breathing finally returns to normal, leaving me lightheaded yet feeling wired.

“Do you work for the Heritage Foundation?” I ask the blonde agent.

“No. A private security firm, employed by the Hale family. We brought in reinforcements for tonight’s event. You’re in good hands, Miss Marlowe. Most of us are former Secret Service.”

“Secret Service? Wow. You protected presidents?”

Her eyes rove ceaselessly, as if analyzing every square inch of our surroundings. “Correct, and every president I protected lived to tell the tale. Mr. Hale will be fine. You’ll have your boyfriend back in one piece.”

“Lucan’s not my boyfriend.”

The agent is utterly unfazed. “Okay.”

I pause for a few beats. “Did he say something to make you believe I’m his girlfriend?”

Her gaze flicks to me. “He said you’re the prime asset.”

“Asset? Like a car or a boat?”

Damn, this is what I get for prying. He’s treating me like he owns me, as usual.

Lucan’s deep voice floats up the corridor. I go to the door to see agents gathering to meet him. When his eyes land on me in the doorway, he changes course and strides over.

“Sadie. He’s gone.” He passes my beaded bag to me, his gaze bitter with disappointment. “Nothing was amiss in the gallery except a spear and your bag.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I tried to stab him with it. The spear, I mean.”

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Honestly.”

A ragged breath leaves his lungs. “You could’ve been killed, Sadie. Why would you run off like that on your own?”

“The party was full of security! I thought it was safe.”

“Yes, the party has security. Not a dark gallery away from everyone. You should’ve stayed in the hall.”

“No argument there,” I say.

How could I forget a killer is after me? I became complacent, and probably because Lucan’s protective measures had been working so well. Ten minutes ago, I told him to do less, but maybe he was doing exactly the right amount.

“I’m glad you’re not arguing,” says Lucan. “Because I’m taking you with me now. You’re not leaving my sight.”