Page 56 of Marx Girl


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“Um.” I don’t want the bags to arrive at the room before me. “No, that’s okay, thank you.”

I grip them a little tighter and make my way to the reception desk.

Act calm. Act calm. Act totally fucking calm.

I smile at the two ladies behind reception. “Hello, can I pick up the second key for my room, please? My husband called down and arranged this earlier,” I ask as my heart hammers hard in my chest.

“What room, madam?”

“Room 278, under the name of Taylor.”

She types it into her computer and waits for the notes to come up. She smiles as she reads them and prints off the second key. Relief fills me.

“Level six, to the right.” She smiles as she hands over the key.

“Thank you.” I make my way through the lobby and over to the lift, glancing around as I wait.

Are they here? Are they watching me now?

Oh, dear God, please let this go well. I don’t particularly want to die tonight.

I’m so nervous that I’m perspiring profusely.

I make my way up to the room, and I stop out the front and retrieve my earphones before I plug them into my phone and set the recording ready to play.

I’ve been watching too many NCIS episodes because I have the plan all worked out in my head. I’ve been going over it for hours.

I grab my key, blow out a steady breath, and swipe the door. It opens in a rush.

Ben is standing by the window, and I quickly put my finger up to my mouth in a shush signal.

“What are you doing?” he snaps.

“Room service,” I reply loudly in an accent in case the room is bugged.

He scrunches up his angry face, and I run to him with my finger up to my lips, quickly placing the ear bud into his ear and pressing play. He goes to rip it out and I shake my head frantically.

“Listen,” I mouth.

He listens and then frowns. He shakes his head and presses play again as he listens once more.

“What?” he mouths.

I shake my head nervously and shrug my shoulders.

He stands still on the spot and listens again.

“Can you come with me and get some towels from the cart?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” he replies clearly.

We walk out into the hallway, and he grabs my arm and pulls me down the corridor.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls in a whisper.

I tear my arm from his grip. “Saving your life. You’re most welcome, by the way.”

“Don’t give me that fucking shit.” He pulls me into the bathroom near the lifts and locks the door behind us. “How did you get this?”

“My… my phone is randomly recording stuff, remember?” I stammer. “And I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. They’re going to kill you.”

He listens to it again and shakes his head, and then he dials a number on his phone. It is answered on the first ring.

“This is Buzz, 11046,” he says, monotone.

I stand silently listening as my heart nearly goes into cardiac arrest. I put my hand over my heart to try and somehow will it to slow down.

“How can I help you?” the deep male voice answers. I can hear what the man on the other end is saying as clear as day.

“We have a security breach.”

“Who?” the other voice snaps.

“1702 and 9067.”

“Proof?”

Ben narrows his eyes at me and shakes his head in disgust. “Recording on…” he snaps.

Oh, God, he’s furious,

“Recording on…” the voice answers.

He holds up the phone and plays them the recording, and the other man stays silent as he listens.

I hold my breath as I listen, too. Is this the cops? Is he on the phone to the cops?

Who is on the other end?

Are they coming to save us now? Are we in danger?

Shit, this is hectic. I put my hand over my heart to try and slow it down.

I may need an ambulance any moment.

“Hang on a minute,” the voice says. “Locating the said agents’ whereabouts now.”

My eyes widen.

We both stay silent as we listen to keyboard typing.

He finally comes back. “They are both in Prague.”

Ben’s jaw ticks in anger. “Permission to eradicate threat?”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

11

Bridget

“Denied,” the voice snaps back. “Secure your location until we track their whereabouts. I need to get higher authority.”

Ben tips his head back to the ceiling in frustration. “How long will that be?”

“We will have an exact location and answer within ninety minutes,” the voice replies.

Ninety minutes. Ninety minutes? That’s an hour and a half. I put both of my hands over my mouth in horror as I try to control my breathing.

“Find them or I will,” Ben snaps before hanging up.

I look up at him. “What now?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer, and a heavy frown is etched on his face.

“What now, Ben?”

“I’m thinking,” he snarls.

I run my hands through my hair in a panic. “Oh, God,” I whisper to myself.

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