Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

LILY

Present Day

T he car pulls up outside the hotel and I frown. There’s a crowd gathered around the lobby entrance. Whether they’re here for Tate or not, his presence is soon going to be public knowledge if we get out of the car now.

‘Is there a back entrance? A service door?’ I ask Benji.

‘Sure,’ says Benji, but before he can put the car into reverse, someone spots the limousine, and the crowd’s attention is pulled towards us, a couple of photographers leading the pack as they charge towards us.

Benji calmly puts the car into reverse, backing away from the zealous paps, and takes us back onto the road. Thank God for tinted windows.

‘They don’t know it’s me,’ says Tate. ‘I could be anyone.’

‘You could,’ I say, but I’m not so sure.

‘The back entrance is down on the right,’ says Tate.

‘How do you know that?’ I ask him.

‘I’ve been here before. If our usual hotel is full, the girl in travel books us in here.’

‘What?’ I slap my forehead. Am I working with complete idiots? The whole point of coming here was to hide from people. ‘Why in God’s name didn’t anyone tell me that before?’

‘No one knows we’re in New Orleans already.’

‘Apart from a whole planeload of people.’

He leans over and pats me on my knee. ‘Don’t worry, Lily. I’ve got you to protect me.’

I grit my teeth and have to forcibly stop myself from grinding them into dust.

Benji drops us off and unhappily allows us to wheel our own cases into the back entrance, which is currently filled with metal cages of dirty laundry.

We wend our way down several corridors before finally coming to a big fire door.

‘The lobby’s through there,’ says Tate.

‘You stay here, while I check things out.’

To my relief, the lobby is quiet now. Although there are a few people hanging about, a couple with cameras around their necks.

I walk up to reception. My hair’s in a ponytail, and I’m wearing jeans, a T-shirt, a casual jacket and sunglasses and no one looks at me twice. They’re all on the lookout for a six-foot ball player.

I check in and then explain the predicament to the receptionist. Luckily, the service door is close to the lifts, which are on the opposite side of the lobby and away from reception. I figure I can get Tate from the service area into the lift relatively easily. It’s not ideal, but I seem to be up against the odds all the time.

I take my case and leave it by the lift and then go back to Tate. ‘The lift is out on the right. I’ll text one character when the lift is here. Come straight out without drawing attention to yourself. I’ll take your case.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ says Tate.

I sigh and haul his case out into the lobby and over to the bank of elevators.

I press the button and wait. It takes a good couple of minutes for the arrow to indicate that an elevator is on its way. When the number two slides past, I text Tate.

The doors open as he comes to stand next to me. We have to wait for a whole group of people to disembark and we’re about to step in, when suddenly there’s frenzied barking and a little dog is jumping around Tate’s heels.

‘I don’t believe it,’ says Tate as the dog dances at the entrance to the elevator preventing the doors from closing. ‘Shoo, Teddy, shoo.’

The dog’s yips increase in volume, its plume of a tail waving with ecstatic excitement.

Everyone in the lobby is staring at us and then, someone who I recognise as Winston’s wife– Pammie Radstock– squeals from the reception desk. ‘Tate! Tate Donaghue.’

With Pammie is a tall, Scandinavian-looking guy, whose physique marks him out as some kind of athlete.

‘Hey, Pammie,’ says Tate, having successfully disentangled the dog from his feet. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’