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“Ugh,” I said out loud before biting my lower lip and holding my head high, even managing to plant a smile on my face before easing out of the stairwell. I knew exactly where I was going and within seconds, I walked outside one of the side entrances. Only when I was behind the wheel of my rental car did I feel somewhat better.
I took a few seconds, breathing in and out, the exercises usually calming me. Not tonight. Then I yanked off the wig, tossing it into the backseat, quickly tearing out the bobby pins and clasps holding my real hair in a tight bun. I shook it out then tossed my shoes aside, grabbing my flat shoes before starting the engine.
All I wanted to do was get behind the locked door of the hotel and sink into a hot bath. No, a long hot shower. I felt used and dirty, every part of me filthy. I was playing with fire by pretending I wanted to seduce them. Look where it had gotten me so far.
I couldn’t go through this again. I wasn’t that strong. I’d go back to the motel and think this through for the hundredth time. I’d brought wine and a book to read and planned on avoiding the television and all human beings until my flight left in the morning.
Then I’d finish my mission and forget about the last few months, maybe taking a tropical vacation all by myself.
At least I’d have fulfilled my promise. And I always kept my promises.
Like a good little girl.
A lump remained in my throat, the anxiety I’d felt since stepping off the plane only increasing.
I constantly checked the rearview mirror, still expecting to see police cars swarming behind me. Maybe I’d watched too many cop shows over the years. I’d planned everything perfectly, although I’d been certain the brute of a man wouldn’t take the bait. He’d been so… overwhelmingly sexy, more so than I’d expected.
Brogan Lancaster had to be at least six foot four, two hundred twenty pounds or more, his face carved directly out of stone. And his eyes were the color of the Aegean Sea.
“Get ahold of yourself,” I whispered, no longer recognizing my voice. Still grappling with anxiety bordering on utter terror, I did everything I could to maintain the speed limit when I wanted to shove my foot to the floor, racing through the brightly lit streets. It seemed like it took forever to reach the small motel nestled on one of the ugliest side streets in the entire city, but I couldn’t take the chance of anyone seeing or remembering me.
Finally, after an interminable amount of time, I rolled the Kia into the parking lot, struggling to find a parking spot. When I finally did, I shut the engine down, uncertain I had the strength to walk up the stairs to the crappy hotel room. I’d stayed in some fleabags in my time, but this place took the cake. Maybe the bath wasn’t such a good idea.
But the bottle of wine certainly was.
After grabbing my things, tangling my fingers in the silky tresses of the long wig, I finally found the courage to take long strides toward the building. I would dump most of the items in different trash cans before leaving.
I managed to make it up the cracked concrete stairs and race toward the room, barely keeping my hands steady enough to be able to slide the keycard into the lock. Damn it! The red light remained. I threw a look over my shoulder, certain I heard footsteps. Seeing nothing, I tried again.
Still red.
Now near panic set in. What if the murder was on the news already? What if the cranky little man at reception was watching it? What if my picture was splashed across the screen, the hussy who stole money from the sexy yet brutal released convict then killed him in cold blood? Well, the theft part wasn’t accurate. Neither was the hussy. But everything else was.
I took a deep breath, holding it for as long as I could tolerate then tried the card again. When the green light flashed, I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. I couldn’t get inside the room fast enough. After tossing my things, I glared at the bottle purchased with celebration in mind.
But as I continued to stare at it, spots formed in front of my eyes. They were all the color of red.
Suddenly sick to my stomach, I stumbled to the edge of the bed, then slumped down, the ugly wig still in my hand.
Memories of the last few years swept into my mind, but I realized how little I knew about the three men even though long ago I’d created the perfect romance story.
It was ridiculous of course, a young girl’s belief in fairy tales and rainbows, but it had gotten me through several tough times.
Now he was gone, and I fully intended to carry through with my final act of revenge.
I had turned into a cold-blooded killer.
* * *
Daniel
Security.
I knew every concept of security in several languages, had prided myself over the years in learning brutal methods criminals had devised in order to maintain some sense of privacy. Because of my tenacity, I’d solved more international crimes than most of my fellow CIA agents. That had earned me a solid reputation as a formidable man, one who took no prisoners.
However, as I stood outside a pristine, heavily guarded mansion just outside of New York City, I was beginning to wonder if I’d lost my edge.
“Hold out your arms,” the beefy giant told me.
