The door rattled against my back. Please God don’t let it break.
“Riley! I just want to talk to you. Open up the door.”
Come on. Comeoncomeoncomeon. Why weren’t they picking up?
“Front desk, what can I do for you Miss James?”
I cried out with relief. “Someone broke into my room. He’s in here now.”
“There’s an intruder in your room right now?” the man on the phone sputtered.
“Yes!” I shouted and then the door shook with such force I thought it was going to crack. I screamed, and the phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor. I grabbed it up immediately, but there was no one on the other end. I started to dial again but stilled with my finger on the button. Everything had gone silent. Too silent.
No pounding. No yelling.
Was he gone?
I didn’t dare open the door to find out. The front desk would send help, right?
And James, he would have been down there, heard my call if he wasn’t already on his way up. He would come any second.
I waited and listened, ear pressed to the door.
I thought I heard light footsteps. I held my breath and listened harder.
“Riley?” It was a whisper too soft for me to make out the voice. I didn’t make a peep.
“Riley?” Louder and closer this time and I recognized the voice.
I shoved myself up onto shaky legs and flung open the bathroom door. “James!” He stood, gun drawn, in the doorway of the bedroom.
Relief shone in his eyes when they landed on me. “What’s going on?”
“Is he still here?” My eyes darted around the bedroom.
“Who?”
“Warren, he was in here.”
“Lock yourself back in the bathroom and don’t come out until I come get you.”
“James, he had a gun,” I warned. “Please be careful.”
He gave a solemn nod and then I shut myself back inside the bathroom and waited, listening and worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. What if he was hiding somewhere else in the suite.
A minute went by and then I heard shouting.
“Get down! Drop the weapon!”
“I’m not the intruder!” That one was James. I burst from the bathroom and ran out to the living room where two security guards had James flat on his stomach, their guns trained on him.
“Not him!” I cried. “He’s with me. The guy you’re looking for is shorter, skinnier, and was in all black.” They exchanged looks and lowered their weapons.
“I told you to stay put,” James growled.
He rose to his feet, grabbing his discarded gun.
I pulled my robe tighter and hugged my arms around myself. “I’m sorry. I heard the shouting.”
He turned on the security guys, one of whom was speaking into a radio.
“You didn’t see anyone in the stairwell?” James asked the other one.
He shook his head. “Our other guy is checking the cameras now. If he’s still in the hotel, we’ll find him.”
James ordered me to have a seat on the sofa and then lowered himself to the coffee table in from of me and asked, “What happened when you got to the room?”
“I-I ran a bath, like I said. I wanted my phone to play music, but I left it in the bedroom. When I went to get it, he—he was there. Standing right there inside the room.” I swallowed, heart pounding inside my chest again, just remembering the way fear had stopped it cold when I stepped out and saw Warren. And the gun in his hand. My eyes bore into James’.
“What happened after that, Riley?”
“I screamed, grabbed a lamp off the dresser, and threw it at him. Then I grabbed the hotel phone, because mine was too far away, and locked myself in the bathroom. He beat on the door for a minute, yelling my name. I thought the door was going to break. I think he heard me call down to the front desk because everything got quiet until you showed up.”
“You did good.” James gave my arm a reassuring squeeze before standing and turning to the other two who were still standing on the other side of the sofa. The hotel manager arrived a moment later with the head of security and made me go through it again.
“Do you think he was already in the room, or that he followed you up?” the head of security, who’d introduced himself as Ray, asked after I’d told them exactly what I’d told James.
“I-I don’t know. I only know he was there when I came out of the bathroom.”
“Did either of you misplace a room key today?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“What was he wearing?”
“I-uh, a black hoodie and stocking cap maybe . . .” I pictured him standing there, letting the image solidify in my mind, but my mind had focused on the gun in his hand more than what he was wearing.
“You’re not sure? And you say he had a gun?” Why did this feel so much like an interrogation?
“Yes, he had a gun, and I’m pretty sure he had on a black sweatshirt and jeans. Maybe a stocking cap too.”
“We just need to know what we’re looking for.” He sounded annoyed. “I have a guy combing through footage from the last hour, but we can’t very well question every guest in a sweatshirt.”
“You’re looking for Warren Baker,” I said shrilly, rising from the sofa. “Contact the police and they’ll have a picture of him. I’m sorry I didn’t memorize what he was wearing. Next time I’ll stop and take a picture.”
James placed his hands on my shoulders. They relaxed under his touch. “It’s okay. You did exactly what you should have locking yourself in the bathroom and calling for help.”
“Of course, Miss James. We’re very glad that you are safe.” The manager stepped forward, sounding contrite. “We’ll let you know if we find anything in the footage, and you can decide how you would like it handled. If you’d like the police called.”
“The police need to be called, and it needs to be discreet.” James clipped out. “Warren Baker has been stalking Miss James for months, and there is a protection order against him. This incident needs to be on record.”
“Of course.” The hotel manager gave a tight nod.
“And we expect your staff will keep this incident quiet.” James stared down each and every one of them.
“Of course, our staff would never violate Miss James’ privacy.”
“That’s good. I also suggest you check with your housekeepers to see if any of them are missing a key, since neither Miss James nor myself misplaced one.”
“You can be assured that we will.”
The manager and security guards filed from the room. Only then did I sink back down onto the sofa and drop my head into my hands and close my eyes, feeling like I could breathe easier.
What were they going to find in the footage?
Would they see Warren following me, like unaware prey in a scary movie when you find yourself shouting turn around at the screen? Had I really not noticed him watching me? Or was he already waiting?
How long had he been in here? Long enough to touch my things? Had he seen me undress?
A shiver ran down my spine.
What would have happened if he’d caught me in the bathroom? Or gotten through the locked door?
Don’t think about that. It didn’t happen.
James came. He wouldn’t have let anything happen.
Was the gun for James? Would Warren have used it on him if I hadn’t gone to the room alone? Would he have hurt me?
“Here.”
My eye popped open and there was James standing over the couch, a cup held out in his hand.
The cup was warm against my hand when I took it, and the comforting aroma of lemon, passion flower, hibiscus, and mint hit me.
He’d made me a cup of my tea.
“Thank you.” I sat forward and sipped it.
“You should go take that bath you wanted. It might help you sleep tonight.”
“I don’t know if that will be possible,” I muttered.
He knel
t down on his haunches in front of me. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m not letting you out of my sight from now on, okay?”
I smiled slightly around the rim of my cup and when I lowered it, I asked, “Does that mean you’re going to come take a bath with me?”
He chuckled and stood. “Yeah, you’re going to be just fine. Go run your bath. I’ll be right out here.”
“Shouldn’t I wait until we hear from the manager and the police? Won’t they want to talk to me? And I should probably call Luis. And Jayne.”
“I’ll take care of it. If anyone needs to speak to you directly, they can wait until tomorrow.”
I didn’t have the energy to object. Nor did I want to deal with anyone else tonight.
I took my tea with me into the bathroom. The half-run bath from earlier was waiting for me. I drained and refilled the giant tub, dumping in some of the complimentary lavender bath salts.
Lavender was good for helping you sleep, right?
When the tub finished filling, I shrugged off the robe and stepped into the steaming water. I eased myself down. A deep sigh escaped when I sank in all the way and rested my head against the back of the tub. I hit the button for the jets and closed my eyes. The smell of lavender surrounded me, and I let it soothe me into a sort of numb state.
I was yanked out of it sometime later when my phone rang from inside the pocket of the robe. Stretching over the side of the tub, I could barely reach it, but when I did, I knew James must have spoken to Luis because his name lit up the screen. I wished I’d ignored it. I shut the jets off and slid my finger across the screen.
“Hello.”
“Riley! Are you okay?”
I assured him that I was and listened as he launched into a tirade. He threatened the hotel with multiple lawsuits, threatened to have just about everyone who worked here fired, and even threatened to fire James.
“It wasn’t his fault,” I insisted. “It was mine. He asked me to wait for him. I didn’t want to.”
“Well someone needs to be held accountable for this, and you can be damn sure that I’ll see to it. I don’t want you to worry about a thing. Don’t let this throw you off. You’ve still got several interviews and the party to get through. You need to be your usual bubbly and charming self.”
I tuned out his little pep talk that followed, climbing from the tub and wrapping one of the large, fluffy, white hotel towels around my body. My bath was ruined at this point.
While Luis continued talking, I stood in front of the the mirror above the sink and stared at my reflection, flushed from the hot bath.
Did you bring this on yourself, Riley?
Is this all your fault?
No. How could I have known Warren would turn out to be crazy? He’d seemed so normal . . . but I guess that’s what they always say.
“I will,” I said into the phone when Luis urged me to get some sleep, so I would look my best tomorrow. When we hung up, I traded the towel for a t-shirt and, leaving the bathroom light on, crawled into the big bed on the other room. Lying on my side, I stared across the room at the lamp on the floor with the now crooked lamp shade. In a way, that lamp had saved me. If I hadn’t thrown it, Warren might have grabbed me before I was able to shut myself back in the bathroom.
“You’re a good little lamp,” I whispered.
I didn’t even realize tears had gathered until one slipped free and rolled down my cheek onto the pillow.
Sometime later, James knocked softly on the door, and when I didn’t answer, I heard him murmur, “Goodnight, Riley, sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams, James,” I whispered back after he was gone.
Sleep didn’t come easy, but I’d known it wouldn’t. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw him, so I fought to keep them open until I couldn’t any longer and sleep dragged me under.
My dreams were anything but sweet.
I was almost relieved when a loud knock on the bedroom door ripped me from the clutches of my nightmares.
I sat up, blinking away the last traces of the dream, when he knocked again. I made sure the blankets covered my bare legs, and croaked, “Come in.”
The door shoved inward and James appeared in a pair of athletic shorts and a long-sleeve Under Armour shirt.
“Wake up sleepy, and get dressed. Put on workout clothes.”
“What time is it?” I groaned.
“Almost six.”
“I don’t have to be up until seven.” I flopped back down.
“Nope, you gotta get up now.”
I pushed up onto my forearms. “You’re really going to make me work out this morning?”
“No, I’m going to let you hit stuff.”
That perked me up into a sitting position. “Really?”
“Yes, really, so get dressed.”
Once the door shut behind him, I swung my tired legs over the side of the bed and stretched my arms over my head as I yawned deeply. Once I shook off the yawn, I hurriedly dressed in a pair of athletic leggings and a sports bra and met James out in the living area. He had a smoothie waiting for me. He handed it over and told me to follow him before he guided me to the elevators and down a few floors where we got off on the gym and pool level.
I stopped in front of the doors to the gym. “What are we doing?”
He coaxed me inside with a hand on my back. Nobody else was in the gym, but I figured out his plan pretty quickly when he walked over to a big blue mat that coincidently was set up with bags and dummies for punching and kicking. I doubted the gym was normally outfitted like this. “You arranged all this?”
He nodded. “Teller Corps. has a New York office, and the hotel was more than cooperative. Anything that might appease you and keep your stepdad from suing.”
“This is awesome, but why so early?”
He bent and scooped up what looked like a pair of fingerless boxing gloves. He tossed them at me. I managed to catch one without dropping my smoothie. The other bounced off me and hit the floor. I set my smoothie down and grabbed the glove.
“I would have done it last night, but I didn’t have time to arrange it. Tea and a bath might help you relax, but they’re not going to do anything for what you’re really feeling inside. Put the gloves on.”
“What would you know about what I’m feeling?” He was a man, not only that, but his body was a weapon. He couldn’t possibly understand.
A bitter laugh fell from his lips. “You think I’ve never been scared or threatened? Felt helpless or powerless? Like you can’t control anything, things are just happening to you and there’s nothing you can do about it?”
I shrugged, pretty sure it was rhetorical.
“I was eighteen when I joined the military. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I didn’t. I was only nineteen the first time I was faced with someone who wanted to kill me, and I had to make the choice, me or him. I was nineteen and watching people die around me. Enemies. Guys I knew. Guys that just as easily could have been me. So, I know exactly what it feels like to feel helpless. But even if I didn’t, I watched my sister struggle with the same thing after her abduction.”
His sister.
God, I was an idiot. It was as if I completely forgot that the movie I just filmed wasn’t just a movie for him. It was real. His sister lived out the nightmare that we only played out on screen.
“Fine, let’s do this.” I tugged the gloves on and met him on the mat.
“Stand like this. Plant yourself firmly,” he demonstrated how I should position my legs and hips and I mirrored him. “Good.” He gave my shoulder a light shove, but my feet didn’t budge. “Very good.”
Then he retrieved and pulled on a pair of hand pads and proceeded to lead me through a series of punches, alternating left and right.
“Drive with your hips not your shoulder . . . yeah, like that. Feel the power difference?” I nodded. “Good, now harder.” He continued to bark out instructions and corrections until I was sweating.
“That’s enough of the wa
rmup.” He tossed the pads to the side.
“Warmup?” I said through labored breaths. My arms were already tired.
For the first time the harsh line of his mouth curled up in the tiniest grin. “We’re just getting started.” For the next hour he pushed me through drills on the mat. He showed me how to slip free of various holds, break grips, and deflect certain strikes and grabs. My thigh and calf muscles were screaming, and I could barely move my arms, but he didn’t let me quit. If anything, he pushed me harder.
He was harsh and unyielding.
“No,” he barked and tightened his bear hold around me as I struggled and failed to execute the move he was trying to teach me.
I quit struggling and went slack against him. “I’m tired. We’ve done enough.”
“No, do it again. You’ve got to step to the outside before you bring your other leg behind mine to backstop my knee otherwise you’ll trip yourself up like you just did. Try again, and make sure you’re putting the pressure on the back of my knee with your knee, not my calf. After you get me off balance come up with your elbow. Now go again.”
I listlessly went through the steps but couldn’t knock him off balance. His arms were an iron band around me. An angry groan tore from my chest as I struggled. “Enough, I’m tired and I’m not going to get it right now.”
“Because you’re not trying hard enough,” he growled in my ear.
I futilely tried once more to wrench my body free of the hold. “Yes I am. You’ve been kicking my ass for the last hour. I’ve had enough.”
“How about Baker? Have you had enough of him? Had enough of being weak and scared?”
“I am not weak. You’re just being an asshole,” I grunted.
His arms tightened again, and I was pressed tighter against his hard body, his warm breath and low, rich voice scraping across my nape. A little shiver ran down my spine and things got a little warmer.
“Say it like you mean it. I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not weak. But you have an advantage. You’re bigger. And stronger. And you know what the hell you’re doing.”
“That’s not it. You can’t do it because you’re weak. And scared. And you let yourself be a victim.”
“I do not,” I hissed.
“Then show me. Do it again and mean it this time. Or you can give up and let Warren win.”
A Taste of Pink (Shades Book 4) Page 10
