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Well. This is fun. Here I am again, pacing around like a caged tiger while I wait. Will Adrian and Theo come back in one piece? What if somebody recognizes them and stops them before they can do what they’ve been planning on for two days? What if I never see Adrian again?

I wish my heart didn’t hurt so much when I think that way. I should be more concerned about myself, right? None of this is my fault. I didn’t ask to be dragged into any of it. I need to start thinking more about myself and less about the man I just happened to fall asleep on during a flight two weeks ago.

It feels like another lifetime, and in a lot of ways it is. I just wish I could talk to Emily about everything. I’m a different person now.

But in a lot of ways I am very much the same. For one thing, my anxiety is through the roof. If I wring my hands much harder, I’ll start to rub the skin off.

I’m literally anxiously awaiting a hit man returning to me.

And this feels different from when I stayed up waiting for Adrian to get back from killing Victor. As messed up as it was, I didn’t have to think long or hard about the moral justification. Sure, it’s never right to commit murder . . . I guess. But Victor had tried to kill both of us. He straight up abducted me. And would have kept trying if Adrian let him live. I think I could be excused if I don’t shed a tear for him.

But this guy? I mean, as amazing as Sophia seemed on first impression, what if she was lying about him? What if she just wants an easy way out of the marriage, and he’s as trapped as she is?

Why do I care?

Maybe it’s that I’m struck by how little hesitation Adrian showed. And how little difference that made in how worried I feel for him. Shouldn’t I hate Adrian for being who he is?

It might make me feel a little better, I think, if I knew something about Derek Castillo. About his family, at least. “There must be something online about them. Something to convince me the guy has it coming. Of course, my burner phone died twenty minutes ago, and I forgot the damn charger in the car. Adrian’s laptop is off and password locked . . .”

“The business center!” I blurt out into the empty room. Remembering the list of amenities I reviewed at the front desk turns on a light bulb in my overheated brain. In moments, I have my shoes on, my hair twisted in a bun high up on my head. It’s something to do, anyway.

When the elevator doors slide open in the lobby, I’m greeted by the sights and sounds of activity. Guests coming and going, employees engaged in hushed conversations while bellhops push carts full of luggage across the marble floor. My anxiety spikes, seeing all these people, but I force myself to keep going.

“I can do this!” I whisper to myself.

And here I am, waiting for a pair of hit men to come back from a job as I cross the lobby and follow the signs to a small room, where half a dozen computers sit unused at the moment. I guess not a lot of people are interested in doing business at this time of night.

Taking a seat at the last machine in the row, I turn on the browser’s incognito mode before looking up the name Castillo. Immediately one article after another appears. The headlines alone are enough to make me raise an eyebrow.

Castillo underboss evades conviction.

Castillo lawyers successfully appeal.

Assassination of strip club magnate linked to Castillo family.

Okay. Things are looking up. Pretty twisted, come to think of it, but I can’t help my relief.

When I add the name Derek to my search, I find out even more, and it’s enough to make the hustle and bustle outside the room fade away until it’s just me and the many times Sophia’s husband has been mentioned online. He is fairly popular on Reddit—or unpopular, depending on how a person wants to look at it. In a handful of local subs, he’s mentioned as “that shithead Derek Castillo.” More than one user claims to be an ex-employee of his, and they accuse him of withholding pay, stealing tips, offering perks in exchange for sexual favors.

Not exactly a knight in shining armor. If it were just one person, I’d suspect it was sour grapes from somebody who got fired and decided to enact a little petty revenge. But as I click link after link, skimming posts and comments going back a couple of years, a pattern emerges.

By the time I’ve convinced myself Derek’s not worth feeling sorry for, more than an hour has passed, and I don’t feel secondhand guilt anymore. I push back from the desk with a relieved sigh and stand, stretching after being frozen in place for so long. Now all I have to worry about is whether the guys will come back safe, but I’m pretty sure the two of them can handle it together. That’s what I need to believe as I cross the lobby again, heading for the elevator.

And that’s when it hits me. I don’t remember my room number.

That’s impossible. We’ve been here for five days. “Think,” I whisper to myself as the elevator climbs to the fourth floor. My key card is in my back pocket, but there’s no actual room number printed on it. I guess that makes sense—what if somebody dropped it? Any rando could get into their room. I guess it’s only in a situation like this that having the card blank is a problem.

And, of course, it’s a situation I had to go and get myself into.

Stepping out into the hall, I look down the length of the long passage lined on both sides by closed doors. Which door is mine? Damned if I know. I can’t even remember how many doors I passed on my way to the elevator. I’m starting to feel cold and clammy all over thanks to the nerves that are starting to cloud my thinking.

401? No, much too close to the elevator. I would remember that. But none of the other numbers sound vaguely familiar either. I can just imagine the guys coming back and finding me out here in the hall like some abandoned puppy. What did Adrian say? Free to a Good Home.

It doesn’t take long before I know what I have to do. I only hope nobody happens to look out through their peephole—or worse, open their door while I’m testing my key in the lock. I’m sure there must be security cameras out here. I only hope nobody’s watching right now.

One room. Two rooms. I move as quickly and silently as possible, swiping the card again and again. I know I wasn’t at the far end of the hall, but I try those rooms anyway. I can’t leave any stone unturned.

Nope. No luck. Maybe the card is broken somehow? Come to think of it, I’ve never used it in the first place. I’ve always been with Adrian, and he’s always been the one to open the door. Okay, I don’t feel quite so bad about myself by the time I’m back on the elevator, returning to the lobby. They just gave me a broken key, that’s all.