Page 142 of Rescuing You

His mother would call it charming.

His father would be impressed by the architecture.

Michael only wanted to know its secrets.

Despite the luxury the building might offer, he doubted very much that Leila and Jasmine were comfortable.

Beyond the glass doors he’d seen from the street, the hotel’s wings rose on two sides, rooms with narrow balconies overlooking the water feature and courtyard.

He and Stone approached a middle-aged woman behind the counter. “Afternoon, ma’am,” Michael said.

“You checking in?”

“We’re looking for someone.” He flashed a picture of Shehab.

She barely glanced at it. “We don’t share information about our guests.” Her tone was polite, almost bored.

“Even if they’re terrorists?”

She took a step back, looking behind her as if for help, but there was nobody in the small room beyond the desk.

“This man and his friends took two innocent women hostage.” He showed the photo of Leila. “We’re trying to free them.”

The woman’s chin rose, glaring at Stone, then him. “Refugees?”

“Human beings,” Michael snapped. “Friends of mine.” This woman clearly shared the locals’ disdain for refugees. Lesvos used to be a tourist haven. Now, most of the visitors came uninvited, by raft. And then there were humanitarian workers who weren’t known for dropping fistfuls of cash. Tourists chose other islands for their beach vacations.

At Michael’s harsh tone, the woman’s attitude shifted. She glanced at the picture on the phone, then lifted one shoulder. “I haven’t seen her.”

He scrolled to Shehab’s image again and angled it to face her.

“I haven’t seen him.”

But there was something in her tone. He didn’t pull the phone back, didn’t move, and didn’t speak. Just waited.

After a moment, she added, “There are men who resemble him.” Her eyes flicked around the space, but nobody was watching or listening.

She nodded out the doors toward the building on the left. “Second floor. Second door.”

“Did you see them with women? Or very small men?”

“I don’t watch who comes and goes.”

She seemed exactly the type of woman who would, but he didn’t challenge her.

“What about a car? What do they drive?”

Her lips pressed closed as she tapped into the computer on the desk. “They drive a white van. I saw it return not long ago. It’s parked in the garage.”

Stone walked away and spoke into his earpiece.

Michael heard the question, and the response, in his own ear.

The team confirmed that the van was there.

Michael held out his hand, palm up. “Key?”

After a slight hesitation, she tapped on her keyboard, then slid a plastic card through a machine to code the door lock into it. She slapped it into his hand. “You stole that.”