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This time was different. This time, I wasn’t helpless.
And I was going to fight tooth and nail to bring Shay back to me.
Chapter Thirty-Six
SHAY
Vince clutched my hand in his as we wandered through the front door of the Davenport Hotel. It was a beautiful historical building, with orange brick and decorative arches, located on a busy street with a lot of bars and restaurants deep within the city.
“You make even a peep that alerts these people that something’s wrong,” Vince warned, squeezing my hand a little tighter and forcing a whimper from my lips. “And I will kill every single person in this lobby.”
He’d made sure I was well aware he had a gun tucked in the inside pocket of his suit jacket before we exited the car. Still, the threat against the people around us made me think Vince wasn’t as stupid as I’d thought.
He knew I’d risk myself, possibly make a run for it if I were the only one who might get hurt.
But he knew the lengths I would go to keep everyone but myself safe too.
“Okay,” I hissed, clenching my teeth together and sucking in a long, deep breath when he finally let go. It caused me to stumble, my body already weak and drowsy from when Jason had blessed me with the fucking butt of his gun. The stumble, paired with the old trucker’s cap I had on that Vince had snatched from Jason’s coat rack to hide the bleeding gash in my head, probably just made us look like some fancy businessman dragging home his drunk girlfriend from the bar.
“Mr. Vanderbilt, it’s so nice to see you again,” the young woman at the front desk asked, her chirpy voice sending another shock wave through my already thumping brain.
Vanderbilt?
A fake name. Why? Vince knew exactly what his name was worth in this city.
Why would he not be using it to get special treatment?
“A pleasure, as always,” Vince answered, leaning in and flashing a blinding smile. “My regular room should be booked for the night.”
“Yes, I see your reservation, Mr. Vanderbilt.” The receptionist tapped away at her computer for a moment before finally slipping a keycard from the machine and sliding it over the desk. “Everything is already prepaid, I see, so here is your room key. Room 614.”
Vince plucked the key from the desk. “Thank you very much.”
I caught the woman eyeing me as he yanked me toward the elevator, her warm smile falling into a worried frown.
I knew she wouldn’t do anything, though. I could imagine the things she saw there.
The men. The women they dragged in here after a late night of drinking.
She would be a professional at keeping her mouth shut and nose out of their business.
Vince tapped his foot as we took the elevator to the sixth floor, shoving me into the hallway the moment the doors dinged.
Room 614 was only a few doors down, and I slumped against the wall outside as he swiped the key, a green light appearing before he pushed open the door.
“In,” he ordered, but moving my body was becoming increasingly difficult.
I was tired, achy, and nauseous.
I needed to lie down.
Seeing the bed inside the room, I gritted my teeth and forced my body through the door, letting momentum carry me to the bed.
His disgusting laughter filled the room behind me as I crawled onto the soft surface and buried my face into a pillow. “I see you’re so eager to get on your back and spread your legs,” he jeered. “But I’m sorry to disappoint you, as that’s not how this is going to work.”
A little vomit forced itself up my throat, touching the back of my tongue and making me gag.
I pressed my fingers to my mouth and swallowed back the bile, inhaling through my nose a couple of times before I was finally able to speak. “I have a concussion,” I muttered, groaning as I sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “I need to go to the hospital.”
