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A sob tore into my throat, and a tear slid over my cheek.
“Put him in the closet.”
Adrenaline shot into me so hard that I bolted upright and stumbled back. Pungent fear washed over me, drying my mouth and stealing my breath.
“No,” I rasped, starting to wheeze.
“I don’t think that’s nece?—”
“Who signs your paycheck?” McClaren snapped. “Put him in the closet and keep him there until I decide what I’m gonna do with him.”
Do with me?
“I can’t keep pretending he doesn’t exist because now people know he does.”
I was pushed and fell onto my knees. Another tear dropped from my eyes and hit the floor.
“C’mon, kid,” a gruff voice said, yanking me up.
I fought him, kicking and punching and going wild.
Someone hit me in the back of the head over the wound I already had. The warm rush of blood saturated my hair, and I fell forward again.
They dragged me down the hall, and I stared at the front door. Right beside it was the dark closet. They tossed me in, and I sprang up, but the door slammed in my face.
I started banging on it. “No! Let me out! Let me out!”
I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge, so I started beating on it again, then threw my entire body into it. The door shuddered and something cracked, but it still held.
“Put that in front of it,” someone ordered.
The sound of a heavy piece of furniture being dragged came closer, and I knew they pushed it against the door.
Frantic, I reached for my phone only to realize the one going off earlier had been mine. They’d thrown it against the wall and broken it. I had no way to call for help.
“Sit in there and think about what you’ve done.” My father’s voice rumbled from the other side of the wood.
Anger so hot burst over me. I dropped onto my hands and knees and vomited. When I was done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and climbed onto my wobbly feet.
I was so angry I was sick with it. So panicked I could barely stand.
I couldn’t yell. I was done with pleading.
Instead, I pressed my blood-and-puke-stained hand on the door. I spoke quietly, so matter of fact, I gave even myself chills. But they heard. I knew they did.
And I knew they were afraid.
“You better kill me this time, old man. Because the second I get out of here, I’m going to rip out your intestines and use them to strangle you.”
36
Arsen
Even if we hadn’t bribed the desk clerk downstairs for the room number of John McClaren’s suite, we would have known where his room was the second we stepped onto the floor.
The jackass has security standing outside his door.
And yeah, he checked into the hotel using his real name. He thought he was untouchable.
