It wasn’t really a question, but she looked at Logan, as if asking.

He nodded.

“No. What if it’s Martin, or Gustov after him? What if —”

“Perfect. I’ll know just who to look for.”

“Have you lost your mind?” He didn’t mean for his voice to raise, and shoot, now he’d embarrassed her. But, “If someone is after Grey, you could get caught in the crossfire.”

“They won’t shoot into a crowd —”

“They just took out a building!”

Logan stood up. “Okay, calm down, York. No one is getting inside the building with a weapon anyway.”

York cocked his head. “Please.”

“We’ll get the palace guard involved. They’ll help us set up a perimeter. No one will be able to take a shot, or bring a weapon in.”

York’s mouth pinched—he could feel his entire body turning into a knot.

RJ took a step closer and softened her voice. “It’s a masked ball. No one will know it’s me. And, you’ll be there to watch my back, too. And me, yours.”

“And I’ll be there,” said Marcus. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

Another beat.

“Fine. I’ll talk with Roy, and we’ll put a plan together,” York said.

Logan turned to Director Grey. “Until then, stay here.” He looked at Marcus who met his gaze with a nod.

York took RJ’s hand and they walked out into the hallway.

Oh, he wanted to strangle her.

But not here, not now.

Roy stood in the hallway, talking with the other security agent, Duncan.

Same age as Marcus, dark hair, smaller build. And, he also had Marine in his countenance, his chin lifted against Roy’s dark-eyed questions.

“I still have my key card,” he was saying to Roy. “It’s protocol to hang onto them.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed it over.

“What about the director? Did he have one?” Roy asked.

“No. It keeps him from going to the room without us. Although, I do remember him having one, now that I think about it. I took it from him when we arrived, however and gave it back to the hotel desk. Protocol.”

“Who gave him the card?”

“I don’t know. I think it might have been in his room when we arrived.”

Logan had followed them into the hallway. “Make sure no one goes in there without being vetted,” Logan said. “Even room service. Everything gets checked.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“And no flower deliveries,” said Roy.

They headed down the hall to Logan’s room. Another suite, this one smaller, no fireplace, but with a sitting room, another hunting picture on the wall.

York let go of RJ’s hand and stood at the door, his arms folded.

His gut still in a knot.