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But on the other hand, this building is equipped with a sprinkler system, fireproof doors, and so many extra measures to keep us safe. Not to mention the fact that we’re in a city with a fire station not far away and it’s raining cats and dogs outside. Even if there is a real threat, the chances that the fire will blaze out of control before it’s put out are slim.
“Let’s give it five more minutes,” I tell Bear. “And then I’ll stick my head out and give things another sniff.”
Bear shakes his head, sending a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. “I can’t, Nora. I can’t stay here. I was in an apartment fire a few years ago. One of my upstairs neighbors nearly died trying to get down the stairs because he waited too long. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“No, wait, Bear,” I say, tailing him to the door. “I know how scary fire can be, believe me, but the Sweetwaters are scarier.”
Bear throws open the door to reveal a craggy-faced blond man with his knuckles hovering in the air, mid-knock.
It’s Rex.
As if to prove my point about being scarier than fire, he lifts his stun gun, aiming it at Bear’s chest and says, “Out. Now. And behave yourself, big guy, or we stun the girl and do bad things to your cat.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
MATTY
It’s a false alarm.
As I thought.
Ten minutes later, I’ve run up and down every staircase in the sizeable hotel, weaving my way around hordes of troubled couples fleeing toward the lobby, and haven’t caught a whiff of smoke.
Which means the Sweetwaters are here, determined to flush us out.
Or a disgruntled spouse pulled the alarm to avoid going to small group therapy, or the system is on the fritz. You don’t always have to assume the worst-case scenario.
But assuming the worst-case scenario and preparing to deal with it as quickly and quietly as possible is what CIA officers do. It’s built into the training. I spent two years of weekends at spy school learning how to wriggle out of tight spots without causing a scene or, more importantly, getting caught.
But getting caught isn’t my biggest concern anymore, not even close. Keeping Nora safe is my top priority, followed closely by Bear and Clyde. They’re all under my protection and right now my gut is screaming that the hotel is no longer a safe place for them.
I head back to our room, debating whether to ask forgiveness or permission from Al to evacuate everyone before the team arrives.
In the end, I decide forgiveness will be faster and pull my keycard from my pocket.
Tapping it to the sensor, I swing into the room, calling to Nora, “Grab your things. I’ll order a car. I don’t think we should—” The fire alarm cuts off, leaving me shouting into the sudden silence. I lower my voice as I add, “take one of our vehicles.”
I clear my throat, my ears ringing as I wait for Nora’s answer. But the living space is empty and there isn’t a sound coming from the other room. But they could be focused on Clyde or crouched by her box in the closet, where it might be hard to hear me.
I start toward the hallway but freeze when I see that Nora’s tennis shoes are gone. Her purple pumps are still beside the door, but the shoes she was wearing when I tossed her into my SUV yesterday are nowhere to be seen.
Yesterday…
I can’t believe that was just yesterday. It feels like I’ve lived at least a few months since then, months I’ve spent falling harder for Nora with every passing second.
I’m in love with her, I realize, as I do a quick check of the space—finding everything as I left it except for the shoes, Nora’s purse, and the kittening box missing from the closet—my heart racing faster as I confirm that she’s really gone. She’s gone and likely in danger and if anyone harms a hair on her head, I’m going to kill them.
I’m not a violent person. I can count the number of times I’ve punched a man on one hand—three fingers, in fact, counting the fist to Wimpy’s face yesterday. I’ve had extensive firearms training, but almost never carry a gun. I’ve always been a firm believer that sticky situations are better resolved with words than weapons.
But right now, if I had my government issue with me, I would gladly press it to Rex’s temple and promise him a painful death if he doesn’t back off and leave the people I love alone.
I pace the main room, telling myself that Clyde went into distress and Bear and Nora ran to the vet. I tell myself that they decided, against my advice, to evacuate with the rest of the hotel, and are waiting for me in the parking lot downstairs. But as the minutes tick by without a text or phone call, I know that isn’t the case.
Gut in knots, I place a call to Al, not even caring that I have to tell him that I fucked up again.
I just need his help finding Nora.
Now.
