Sick fear coiled in Sean’s stomach. He didn’t like it either. “Let’s talk to security, then we’ll find out what Rachel knows.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sean slipped back into the ballroom, and after skirting the perimeter of the room, made his way to Rachel’s table. She was in deep conversation with an actress from another show and treated him to an annoyed look when he wrapped his fingers around her too thin arm. “Come with me,” he said putting his mouth to her ear. “Right now.”
She turned and met his gaze with furious eyes. She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut and looked around. Then she pasted a fake smile on her face. “Why, Sean, darling, of course we can talk,” she said and then let him pull her up out of her chair and guide her to the side exit.
The minute they left the ballroom she jerked her arm from his grasp and glared at him. “What’s wrong with you? Why did you drag me out of there?” she demanded.
“Where’s Greg Alamo?” he asked, not wasting any time. “Don’t bother denying you know him. I saw you with him at the cafe.”
“Why would I deny it?” Rachel asked. “I’ve been seeing him for a few months.”
“What a coincidence. That’s when Kayla started getting those threatening notes.”
“What does that have to do with me? Or Greg?”
Sean tried to read her face. She looked annoyed and perplexed. But not nervous. “Either you’ve finally learned how to act or you’re telling the truth. Which is it?”
Rachel’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t have to take this. I’m going back inside.”
“Not so fast.” He reclaimed her arm. “Cut the bullshit, Rachel. Just tell me where Alamo is.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lisa approaching them from the lobby. “Any luck?”
Lisa shook her head. Her demeanor was calm but her eyes were filled with worry. “Greg isn’t registered at the hotel.”
Rachel looked from him to Lisa. “That’s because he’s staying with me. In my room.”
“How come he wasn’t with you on the plane?” Lisa asked.
“He caught a later flight. He told me he had an early morning meeting with his agent he couldn’t get out of.”
Lisa let out a derisive sound. “He probably knew Kayla would be on the same plane.”
Rachel put her hands on her hips. “What’s going on? Why are you looking for Greg?”
“Because I find it odd that he’s here in Savannah. Especially now that Kayla has gone missing,” Sean snapped, tired of her innocent act.
“Missing?” Rachel exclaimed. “I saw her just a few hours ago.” She looked at Lisa. “With you.”
“Why isn’t Greg your escort tonight?” Lisa asked.
“He said it wasn’t his thing. He was going to have dinner somewhere in the historic district, and then after the banquet we’re hitting a couple clubs the concierge recommended.” She paused and looked from Lisa to him. “Sean, I can assure you that wherever Kayla is Greg isn’t with her. He hates her.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Sean said and met Lisa’s troubled gaze. “Did Alamo ever threaten Kayla when they were dating?”
“He was possessive and jealous but she never mentioned any threats. She did tell me he was livid when she dumped him,” Lisa said in a voice edged with tension. “She said she’d never seen him that angry and that she got out of the beach house as quickly as she could.”
“No.” Rachel shook her head vehemently. “You’re wrong. Greg wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Where were you two going to meet up?” he asked, not bothering to argue with her.
“My room.”
“Take us there,” Sean commanded. “Now.”
* * *
The minute Greg closed door and she was alone, Kayla rolled to her back and was able to get into an upright sitting position. The restraints around her wrists and ankles were thin and made of plastic. They were tight—as in cutting off her circulation tight. Twisting her wrists, she let out a groan of pain when the plastic dug into her skin.
Okay, Kayla. Keep it together. You’ll get out of here.
Looking around the small room, she saw shelves with cleaning supplies, rolls of toilet paper and plastic bins with travel size bottle of shampoo and soap. A couple of vacuums were sitting in the corner. She was in a housekeeping supply closet.
And probably on the same floor as her room. Greg wouldn’t have taken a chance on going any farther with her passed out in his arms.
Be quiet. That’s what he’d told her.
Oh hell no, asshole. You’re going to find out just how loud I can be.
She screamed. And then screamed again. But it was futile. The gag Greg had fashioned from a towel and knotted tightly around her head and stuffed into her mouth muffled her cries. She grunted in frustration.
Damn you, Greg.
She should have known he was the stalker. Seriously, how stupid was she? His behavior the night she’d broken up with him should have been her first clue. But she’d been lulled into a false sense of security. He never called her or tried to see her after that night and she’d forgotten his threats. But he’d been biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get back at her. The sick freak.
He is so not getting away with this.
Using her hips, she scooted her butt along the floor toward the door. With any luck, it would be unlocked, but if it wasn’t she’d bang her head or her feet against it until someone heard her.
By the time she reached the door, her dress had ridden up past her hips. Lying flat, she rolled to her stomach and after a few ungraceful tries was able to push herself to her knees. The gag in her mouth prevented her from getting enough air so she stilled and drew air in through her nose. Once her equilibrium returned she pressed against the floor with her hands, sat back on her haunches and then pushed herself up into a standing position. Elation filled her as she lifted her bound hands up to the door handle, but when it didn’t budge she let out a frustrated groan.
Sweat trickled down her back as she considered her options. Angling her head to her right, she took stock of the items sitting on the metal shelving unit placed against the wall near the door. Her gaze rested on a crescent wrench. If she could get her hands on it, the wrench would be perfect to bang against the door. Certainly less painful then using her head, and easier than using her feet.
It was the perfect plan.
* * *
Waiting alone in Rachel’s room, Sean heard the sound of the card key being inserted into the slot on the door and tensed. Since Rachel was with Lisa in Lisa’s room, the person on the other side of the door could only be Greg Alamo returning to pick up Rachel for their night of clubbing. His gut told him that Alamo was behind Kayla’s sudden disappearance, but although the head of security had placed a call to the Savannah police department, they still hadn’t arrived. Unable to stand by and do nothing, he’d decided to take matters into his own hands.
Rachel’s room was exactly like his. One king-sized bed, one small round table with two chairs, armoire, dresser and nightstand. There was probably a Bible in the drawer, just like in his room. Unlike his room though, there were clothes strewn on every available surface. Rachel didn’t pack light.
He didn’t have a plan. There had been no time to concoct some elaborate plot to get Alamo to admit he’d taken Kayla somewhere. All he had was the element of surprise and a burning desire to find Kayla. That was all he needed.
The click of the door unlocking echoed even louder than his hammering heart. With his fists clenched at his sides, he kept his eyes trained on the door. He’d played a cop for six of his ten years on the show but it hadn’t prepared him for this. This was reality, not make believe. His body knew it. Every single one of his nerves was on full alert.
When the door swung open, Alamo took one step over the threshold and then froze in his tracks. His eyes widened in shock and a split second later he bolted down the hallway.
Sean reacted immediately. Careening through t
he doorway, he hit the hallway and sprinted after Alamo, who was almost at the elevators. Alamo bypassed the elevators and skidded to a stop. After a quick glance back, he pulled open the door to the stairs and disappeared.
The elevator doors slid open and an elderly couple stepped out. Dodging them, Sean headed for the stairwell door. Pulling it open, he raced down the first flight of stairs and saw Alamo had already cleared them and was working on the next flight. Adrenalin fueled him and he flew down the stairs, gaining on Alamo. By the time the bastard had reached the next flight Sean was five feet behind him.
The sound of their shoes on the concrete stairs reverberated loudly in the empty stairwell. Alamo looked back just before he reached the landing. That look back cost him. He slowed, and Sean was able to shorten the gap between them. Launching his body forward, he flew through the air and tackled Alamo. Together they fell hard on the landing with Alamo grunting in pain as Sean landed on top of him.
Pushing himself up, Sean bent over, clenched handfuls of Alamo’s shirt in his fists and hauled him up.
“Where is she?” He shoved Alamo against the wall.
“Don’t…don’t hurt me.” Blood trickled from Alamo’s nostril to his upper lip.
“Where the fuck is she?” Sean pulled him away from the wall and then shoved him against it again, even harder than the first time.
Alamo grunted in pain. “Stop.”
“Not until you tell me where she is.” He let go of Alamo’s shirt and pressed his forearm across his windpipe. Alamo’s eyes bulged. “I swear to God, if you’ve hurt her.” He applied more pressure to Alamo’s throat “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
“Didn’t….didn’t…hurt…her.”
“Where is she?”
“Can’t…breathe.”
“Too fucking bad.” He pressed harder. “Where is she?”
“Sup…supply closet,” Alamo gasped. “Her floor.”
Sean released him and took two steps back. Alamo slumped to the floor gulping for air. Above them, he heard the sound of the door opening. “What’s going on down there?” a male voice asked with concern. “Call security,” Sean called out and then looked down at Greg. “You’d better pray Kayla isn’t hurt. If she is—you’ll answer to me.”
Turning, he sprinted up the stairs until he reached Kayla’s floor. He pushed open the door, ran past the elevators and then her room until he was at the end of the hallway where—just like on his floor—there was a door with the word Housekeeping engraved on a gold metal plaque.
“Kayla.” He tried the handle. It was locked. “Kayla, sweetheart, can you hear me?”
There was no sound from inside the closet. That scared him. He couldn’t wait for security. Kayla’s life could be at stake. Every second counted. Moving away from the door, he lifted his leg and kicked the door—hard. It didn’t budge.
“Shit.”
Sweat dripped down his face. Turning, he lunged at the door, throwing his weight against it. He heard a loud sound and realized it was him, groaning. He ignored the pain shooting through his shoulder and rammed his body against the door with all of his might. The hinges gave way opening about a foot before becoming lodged against something solid.
“Kayla?” He stuck his head inside the room. He didn’t see her. He did see what was blocking the door though. A metal shelving unit had fallen over, obstructing the entrance. Quickly, he scanned the room. There were rolls of toilet paper and other hotel sundries scattered around the floor. Angling his head, he peered just behind the door. Sheer black fright swept over him when he saw Kayla’s feet protruding from under the bottom rung of the shelving unit.
“Kayla…oh, Jesus.”
His only thought as he barreled against the door with more strength than he knew he possessed was that he couldn’t let her die. He hadn’t been able to save his mom, but he could save Kayla.
The door budged just enough for him to turn and squeeze through. His heart pounded frantically as he stepped over the metal shelves. Moving to the top portion of the unit, he crouched and grabbed the posts on either side of it. Bracing his knees, he heaved it up; it looked heavier than it actually was. As he pushed it upright, he glanced down and saw that Kayla was unconscious.
Consumed with dread, he righted the shelving unit and then crouched beside her. She was on her back, her wrists and ankles bound with zip ties. And she had a gag over her mouth. He pulled it off and tossed it over his shoulder.
Her face was pale—too pale. He pressed his fingers against the side of her neck and felt a pulse. She was alive. Thank God.
Don’t move her. He knew that much. Moving her could make things worse.
He brushed her hair from face and then heard the sound of footsteps running toward the supply closet.
“Sean!”
“Lisa…” he yelled. “In here. Call 911.”
He looked just as Lisa appeared in the doorway. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, and then covered her mouth with her hand.
“Call 911.” Lisa didn’t move. “Now!”
His harsh tone galvanized her—she took off and then he heard her nearly hysterical on one of the hotel house phones near the elevator.
Kayla groaned. He looked down just as her eyes fluttered open. “Sean…”
“I’m here.” He met her unfocused gaze.
“Greg…stalker.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He stroked her forehead, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life.
It was his fault. If he hadn’t gotten so angry about that damn audition she wouldn’t have been alone in the hotel room. He would have been there with her; Alamo would never have been able to get to her.
“Sean…” Her voice was faint. “Don’t…don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.”
Her eyes closed. Panic hit him like a tidal wave. He felt for her pulse again and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt its steady beat. He lowered his head to hers and pressed his lips to her temple.
“I love you,” he whispered against her skin.
Stunned that he’d spoken the words aloud, he raised his head and gazed at her. Over the past few months he had seen her kindness on a daily basis. Initially, he’d been impressed by her beauty, and then by her talent. But it was her loving spirit that had captured his heart. He hadn’t known it was possible to love someone so completely. But he knew it now.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jared: Let’s get married.
Shay: We already are.
Jared: I know. But I want to marry you again. In a church this time.
Shay: I’m like eight months pregnant. I think that’s frowned upon.
Jared: So what? I love you, and I want the whole world to know it.
Shay: I love you too… Oh, my God! I think my water just broke!
Sean watched the paramedics wheel a gurney with Kayla on it from the supply closet into the hallway. From his vantage point behind several fire and rescue personnel he could see she was still pale and unconscious. The sight of the plastic zip ties digging into her soft skin enraged him.
Two minutes.
That’s all he wanted—two minutes alone in a room with Greg Alamo. That would be more than enough time to beat him to a bloody pulp.
“Where are they taking her?” he asked Curtis Trent, the head of hotel security, who was standing next to him and Lisa.
“There’s a hospital not too far from here.” Trent’s voice was calm.
“I have to go with her,” Sean said, moving toward the gurney.
When he reached her and saw her slack face, his heart plummeted to his stomach. She looked so still—so abnormally still—that it sent a wave of sheer terror through him.
“Is she…?” he asked, fearing the worst.
“She’s unconscious,” the female paramedic assured him. Her partner hit the call button and then reached under the gurney. He retrieved a pair of scissors and cut the plastic zip tie from Kayla’s wrists, and then moved to cut the tie from her ankles.
“Sir, you need to step back,” he said in a polite but firm voice.
“I’m going with her,” Sean said, looking at Kayla. He couldn’t leave her. Not now. “If she wakes up, I don’t…she can’t be alone.”
“I’m sorry but only the patient and EMT’s are allowed in the ambulance.” The paramedic put the scissors away just as the elevator chimed its arrival.
“My partner is right, sir,” the woman said, glancing at her partner and then back at him. Her expression softened. “If she wakes up we’ll make sure she’s okay. We’ve done this before.”
The elevator doors slid open and after the paramedics wheeled the gurney inside Sean tried to follow but the male paramedic put his hand up, preventing Sean from entering the elevator.
“I’m sorry, sir, but if you want to go to the hospital you’ll need to find another mode of transportation.”
“We’re taking her to Memorial,” his partner said in a gentler tone just before the doors slid shut.
Sean felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll call for a cab,” Lisa said.
“That won’t be necessary.” Recognizing his father’s voice, Sean turned to find his father standing next to Curtis Trent. “I have a car at my disposal. I can have it ready to go in five minutes.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, he and Lisa were alone in the hospital’s sterile waiting room. She sat beside him, staring at a flat panel television mounted on the wall. It was tuned to a twenty-four hour news channel, that, for the past ninety minutes had been cycling the top news stories of the day on what seemed to be a continuous loop.
Because Lisa had been Kayla’s publicist for so many years she was able to give the admitting nurse most of Kayla’s personal information, including the name of her insurance company. The entire time she’d spoken to the nurse Lisa had been on the verge of tears.
There was a time when Sean had considered Lisa rather cold. But she wasn’t. Underneath the steely reserve she wore like a cloak, Lisa cared very deeply.
Love in the Afternoon Page 29
