Page 16 of The Tower

“I’ll sell the damn ring.” I don’t love the idea. It would feel too much like Desmond was taking care of me. But I don’t even have cash or a credit card. Just my phone, my meds, and a lipstick.

I lift my little cocktail purse. “All Father would let me bring.”

“Here,” Ruby says, pulling a slim wallet from the back pocket of her uniform slacks. She passes me a credit card. “The limit’s only ten grand, but it’s paid off.”

Tears sting my eyes. “Thank you.”

“Be careful where you use it. Your father’s not an idiot. He’ll think about tracking my cards eventually, and⁠—”

“Then I can’t take it.”

She pushes away the card I’m trying to give back. “I’ll tell him you stole my purse from the kitchen. I’ll be fine. Take it.”

When I hesitate, she crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Take it or I tell.”

“You wouldn’t.”

She smiles and shrugs innocently. I sigh. I know she wouldn’t ever betray me. But I take the damn card. “Thank you,” I say again, pulling her into a tight hug.

She squeezes back. “Now go.”

I nod, and with a final glance at the glittering ballroom, I slip through the service door.

The corridor is dimly lit and narrow, lined with shelves of supplies. I follow the sound of clattering dishes to the kitchen, grateful that the staff is too busy to pay much attention to me. Even so, I skirt along the wall, keeping my head down until I reach the loading dock.

It’s a large open area with delivery trucks and a few members of the hotel staff on smoke breaks. The cool night air brushes my face, and I draw a deep breath, eager for this first taste of freedom.

Then I hear my father.

“Well, find her goddammit!”

I jump, then slide into a shadowy alcove beside a stack of crates, terrified that the pounding of my heart will give me away.

“We have people at all exits, sir,” someone says over the thud of approaching footsteps. “She can’t have gone far.”

I twist my head, frantically searching for another way out. I’m about to take my chances and run when a hand closes over my mouth from behind, and in that same moment, an arm like steel captures my waist and drags me backward into darkness.

“Don’t scream.” The whispered voice is deep. Familiar.

Liam Grimm.

The tension in my body changes from terror to something I can’t identify. Relief, I think. Only it’s coupled with something even more disturbing than fear.

I nod once, and his hand leaves my mouth, though his arm remains around my waist, holding me against his large frame. I feel his heartbeat against my back, the heat of him so intense I fear I might burn. His breath stirs the hair at my nape, sending a ripple of unwelcome shivers down my spine.

“Are we safe?” My whisper is so low I’m afraid he might not hear it.

“For now. Storage closet. Pressure door. No latch, so it’s well camouflaged. And they’ll be focusing on exits.”

“How did you find me?”

“I saw your face when your joyous news was announced. I knew you’d run.” There’s a hint of approval in his voice.

“You’ll help me get out of here?” I turn in his arms, facing him in the dim light filtering under the door.

Grimm studies me, his expression unreadable in the darkness. “Why should I stick my neck out for you?”

“You already have.”