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I stirred my drink with my painted fingernail. The nail changed colors, which meant it was drugged. Most women certainly wouldn’t have grinned in a situation like mine, but I wasn’t most women. I fired off a text to the group.
Me: They are taking the sexy-looking bait. Bartender put something in my drink.
Adam: We are watching you on the cameras. Keep an eye out for the other manager. He keeps walking through the space every fifteen minutes or so. His eyes always seem to land on you.
Me: ;)
The bartender turned his back to me as he prepared a drink for another customer. I reached over and poured some of my drink into the counter-length beverage drain on the other side of the bar. I left half of the drink in the glass, so it wouldn’t look too suspicious.
I made a show of looking down at my phone, scrolling through social media. It was only a minute before I felt a presence behind me, from my left side. An arm landed on the bar, and the body faced me.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” He didn’t look sorry at all. He looked ready to spread my legs and gobble me up. “You’re the guest who reported the man who fell in the bathroom, aren’t you?” I stared at the face of my target, the manager who I had distracted from the HR office. He leaned in close to me, invading my personal space with his average-looking face and his strong aftershave smell.
I plastered on a fake smile, pretending I was thrilled to be remembered. “Yes, that was me. Is he okay?”
“He will be. I wanted to thank you for reporting it. It helps us stay on the up and up with legal things,” he said.
“Ah.” I made my eyes widen in understanding. “You’re welcome.” My fingers played with my glass, making myself seem coy.
“Is Julio taking good care of you?” He glanced between me and the other man. They were clearly communicating with their eyes. Julio nodded his head slightly.Done, spiked my drink. Plan’s in motion.I could practically hear the silent words they exchanged.
Now was my chance to drop some more seeds of opportunity. “Yes, he’s been great. I definitely got my money’s worth. Alcohol makes me sleepy, and I’m feeling it now. He must be pouring them heavily,” I said, purposefully slurring my words at the end.
“Excellent,” he said. His body language told me all I needed to know. He was excited. A bystander might have thought he was being overly friendly, but I saw right through him. I read the intentions like they were on a flashing neon sign. It was a smooth operation they’d practiced before. The bartender drugged up their target, and the other manager scoped them out. I bet they sent housekeeping up to the room to check on the women and make sure they were out cold before they were kidnapped.
I gave a fake yawn to sell the act. “I hate to be rude, but I’m going to go up to my room before I fall asleep right here. You’re a manager, right?”
He nodded his head.
“Can you have housekeeping bring up some fresh towels to room 2015?” I asked.
“Of course. I will make sure they come up shortly,” he promised with a sleazy smile. God, his face made me want to yack all over the floor. I didn’t understand how he could be so obvious and women still fall for his act. Then I remembered drugs and money were a hell of a thing. Drugs to make women willing, and money to buy silence.
I stood up and pretended to sway on my feet a little.
He smiled at me. “Have a great night.”
One thing was for sure—if he’s the manager that came to take me, he wouldn’t be.
I walked away, continuing my act of unsteady footwork. I made my way to the elevators with the feel of predator eyes on my back. When the doors closed in front of me, I let out a sigh of relief. I exited on my floor and quickly made my way to my room. I pulled off my dress and changed into a robe. My phone vibrated on the bed.
Christine: They sent someone to follow you up. To make sure you didn’t pass out on your way to the room.
Me: Who do you think set the better trap for the other?
Christine: Definitely us.
I sat and waited. I received another text when a housekeeper carrying a stack of towels got off the elevator on our floor. I watched through the peephole of my door as he looked around nervously. He was definitely working in some shape or form with the Reapers. Why else would he be nervous to bring up towels to a guest room?
When he finally got the nerve to knock, I continued to watch for a moment. I ran my fingers through my hair to mess it up—to look like bedhead.
I schooled my face into a dreamy expression and then opened the door.
“Oh, good, I was waiting on these,” I said with a fake yawn. “Would you mind bringing those in here?” I asked.
“Of course, miss,” the housekeeper said. He looked a little shocked, as if he hadn’t expected me to answer. I didn’t miss the master room key he held in his other hand and subtly tucked into his pocket. He was going to force entry into the room if there was no answer. Likely to make sure I was knocked out.
He came into the room and placed the towels on the desk in the room.
