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Chapter Twelve
Ariella
The smoke had been a diversion on the third floor to drive everyone out of their rooms and downstairs.
Who were the men with guns, and why had they assaulted Mason and taken him with them?
“I’ll be fine,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at us. Crimson dripped to the linoleum floor, staining the hallway. Mason was whisked out of the lobby. I couldn’t see where they took him. His hands held up in the air, a sign of surrender. His weapon had been confiscated. Did he have a backup gun?
Hazel’s eyes glistened.
We lay on the floor near the stairwell, our hands on our heads. With my head turned, I faced Hazel, trying to convey that it would be okay.
The masked men, eight of them who I had counted when we were first forced onto the ground, searched all of us as we lay on the floor, stealing away phones, keys, anything that could be used as a weapon or to call for help.
The fire alarm shut off.
Someone had pulled the fire alarm.
The fire department would be required to respond to the call and would notify the police when they saw what they were up against.
Thick metal chains secured the doors shut from the inside. We couldn’t leave, not without someone escorting us out of the building.
My breathing hitched, and a wave of nausea coursed through my body. I needed to get ahold of my emotions and settle down the fear that pumped into my veins.
I shut my eyes and counted to ten. I practiced my biofeedback breathing exercises to calm my heart rate, which would help settle my nerves too. I imagined a black nothingness with a single wave. With each breath, I followed the wave and inhaled slowly, held it, then exhaled at the same speed.
The tremor in my hand was minimal, but the exercise kept my entire body from shaking.
“Everyone, against the wall!” the masked man demanded of us. “Slowly! No sudden movements or we will shoot you.” He pointed the gun into the ceiling and blasted a round of bullets, instilling fear, reminding us that they were in charge and to do as instructed.
Hazel and I sat up and scooted back against the wall. Where had they taken Mason? Clearly, they’d known him. Which meant it had to be someone local, right? Had they known Mason had been staying at the hotel? He hadn’t checked in to the resort, so someone would have had to see him or his vehicle outside.
Unless it had nothing to do with Mason, they just wanted to remove him out of the equation. It was no secret that he was former military special forces and would lay his life on the line to protect everyone else.
Without him, what chance did we have to get out of this alive?
Of the eight masked men I’d noticed earlier, there were only six now. Where had the other two gone? One had taken Mason out of the room. Had I miscounted?
Hazel reached for my hand. I gave it a squeeze, wanting to reassure her that we would be okay. Her grip tightened against my palm. I glanced at her, frozen in fear, her eyes trained across the room at two men in suits on the floor held hostage with us.
“Them,” she whispered so that only I could hear her.
“You know them?” I asked.
“That’s Franco,” Hazel whispered. She hung her head, letting the hoodie fall over her eyes.
Had the men recognized her? I didn’t want to make it obvious that I’d spotted them. Casually I glanced around the room at everyone, mentally taking note of the number of hostages, how many were children, whether anyone was injured, and then let my gaze study the men who wanted Hazel.
They were talking amongst one another, their backs pressed against the wall. They looked like two giant thugs, dark hair, lots of muscle in dark suits. They were too far away to hear what the two men said to one another. Maybe that was a good thing if they hadn’t noticed Hazel nestled beside me.
I was her last chance of protection. I didn’t have a weapon, and there were masked men with guns watching our every move. How were we going to get out of this alive?
