by T L Swan
I get out and pay the driver, then make my way into the foyer and up to reception. My eyes are darting around like a crazy person, searching for anything out of the ordinary. I glance at my watch. It’s 7:50 p.m.
Oh no, ten minutes before they know their plan isn’t going to go to plan.
“Good evening.” The receptionist smiles.
“Hello.” I retrieve the credit card Ben has given me and slide it over the desk. “I have a booking in the name of Jones.”
“Sure.” She smiles and starts to type in her computer, and I glance around at the swanky surroundings. How much does this place cost per night?
She prints off a key and hands it to me. “You are in room 246 on level four.”
“Thank you, my husband will be picking up another key later tonight when he arrives.”
“Okay, thank you. I will note that down.”
I make my way over to the lift and up to level four, then down the wide corridor. It’s so luxurious; this place is something else.
I get to my room, swipe the card, and close the door behind me, locking it swiftly.
Thank God, I made it.
For a few moments I stand with my back to the door, so relieved that I made it here. I try to catch my breath. It feels like I have been holding it in for hours. I pull myself together and look around.
The room is big, white, and classy. Navy velvet drapes hang to the floor and they match the bedspread, along with two high wing chairs and ottomans that sit near the fireplace.
I walk around to find the bathroom is completely white with brass fittings, and a triple showerhead in the walk-in shower. The left wall has a floor-to-ceiling mirror.
There is a large, fresh flower arrangement that sits on the round mahogany table.
Wow. This is swanky.
I walk over to the window and pull back the drapes to stare down at the bustling traffic.
Darkness is all I see.
What’s going on at the other hotel?
I get an image of Ben fighting with the two men, and I shake my head to chase away the vision.
Stop it. He’ll be fine.
I walk over and recheck the lock on the door, and then I go into the bathroom.
I need a shower so badly. In fact, I need sleep more than anything at the moment, but I can already tell that’s not in my immediate future.
A hot shower, a hot meal, and I’ll be as good as new.
BEN
I stand at the window at exactly 8:00 p.m. and look down at the street as I wait for Jason Steele to surface.
Why do they want you dead?
They want to kill me to cover up that they had anything to do with it.
This was not an approved hit. Who is he and why do they want him dead?
I take out my phone and Google Jason Steele, U.S. Diplomat, and I wait for the page to load.
An image comes up and I study it. Dark hair, in his mid-thirties, good-looking as far as dudes go.
I click on Wikipedia.
Jason Steele, age 37, is an American diplomat, speaking five languages. Educated at Harvard where he graduated with an Engineering, Science, and Bio Chemistry degree.
I frown as I read through. A diplomat is a scientist? Weird qualifications. They usually major in politics. My detective work is interrupted as he walks out, flanked by security guards. I watch from my window position above.
Why does he have such tight security around him?
He gets into a black limo with a security car behind and in front, and I watch them slowly drive away.
I look at the surrounding buildings and my blood begins to boil.
If Bridget hadn’t stopped me, I would have played right into their hands. I had no reason to doubt their intentions or my orders.
They now know their plan didn’t work. I glance at my watch and see it’s 8:20 p.m.
Didge should be safe. Fuck, I can’t stand that she’s here mixed up with my shit. This is my worst fucking nightmare.
I text them, acting innocent.
I couldn’t get a shot
Secure the next location so that I can finish my mission.
I’ve got to get out of here.
I put my handgun under my suit jacket and pick up the bag with the hit gun inside it.
First, I need to get rid of this. I walk out into the hallway and put it into the laundry shoot. I then go in and retrieve my suitcases and walk down to reception. My eyes are darting around as I look for my deceivers. I walk to reception and out to a taxi, placing my bags in the trunk.
“Can you take my bags to Mayfair on Ridge and ask them to keep them in reception for me until I check in later?” I ask quietly.
“Yes, of course.”
I hand him one hundred euros. “Don’t tell anyone what I just told you, and don’t return here tonight.”
He smiles broadly at his substantial tip. “Yes, sir.” He drives off in a hurry before I change my mind.
I turn back to the hotel as I struggle to contain my anger.
I could be dead now. Those motherfuckers are going to pay.
I get into the lift and head down to the parking lot. They’ll be down there waiting for me to get in and drive away. I wonder… are they planning on following the car and finishing me off at the crash scene?
My fury bubbles. Let’s just see who gets finished off.
I catch the lift to two levels below the car, and I walk out into the semi-lit parking lot. I put my hand under my jacket and on my gun as I walk along the back row between the parked cars. I walk up the ramp toward where the hired car is parked.
My eyes roam over the parking lot as I look for the traitors.
I hear the double beep of a car unlocking in the distance, and I push myself up against a column in the darkness, my heart beating hard.
A young couple walks hand-in-hand, laughing, deep in conversation as they get in and slowly drive away.
I squeeze my gun and make my way over to the next ramp going up. I’m not sure where the car is parked, but I do know it’s on this level. I’m assuming it will be near the lifts if it has been here for some time. I sink into the darkness along the back wall as I search the parking lot.
There it is. Black SUV. Our standard hire car of choice. Number plates.
Hc 6000
I get behind a column in the darkness and wait. For ten minutes I wait, until finally a car pulls up and they both get out. I ready my gun as I watch.
They glance around at the parking lot in search of me, and I’m so damn tempted to step out and shoot the fuckers right now.
You don’t have permission yet, I remind myself.
I squeeze the gun in my hand, itching to pull the trigger.
One of them takes out a large knife and slashes the tyres.
What?
I frown.
What’s he doing?
I watch on as he slashes all four tyres so that the car is unusable. They both get into the car and exit the parking lot.
What the hell is going on? I stare into the darkness as I think.
It’s not me they want dead. It’s Jason Steele.
They want me alive until I can finish the job.
Who the fuck is Jason Steele?
BRIDGET
I wring my hands as I pace back and forth. It’s been three hours since I arrived here, and Ben still hasn’t shown up.
Where the frigging hell is he?
I hear a police car siren in the distance. I run to the window and tear back the curtains to look out.
What’s happened? Is that him? Has something happened down there?
Oh, dear God, my heart can’t take much more of this.
My phone rings and I jump in fright. I scramble to get it.
The name ‘Eric’ lights up the screen.
Shit. Of all the times he chooses to call me back, it’s now, for fuck’s sake.
I can’t deal with him right now. But then I picture him on the other end, trying to call me, and guilt takes over. I quickly p
ick up.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hi, Bridge.”
Silence hangs down the line.
I stare at the carpet under my feet because I have no idea what to say to him. I’m in different country, waiting for another man who is probably a criminal and dead in a hotel room under a fake name.
This is as far from his world as it possibly gets.
Who am I kidding? This is nobody’s world, least of all mine.
“I miss you,” he whispers.
I close my eyes in regret. When I saw him the other day, we just played nice and didn’t talk about anything at all, but now it needs to be said.
“Look, Eric…” I pause as I try to get the wording right. “I’m sorry about the fight the other day and the way things turned out.”
He stays silent.
“I never meant for any of this to happen.” Sadness fills me, because I put him through this. He deserves so much better than the shitty girlfriend I was. I haven’t even thought of him since we broke up, because I have been so focused on Ben.
Ben bursts through the door, furious.
My eyes widen. Shit. What’s happened? I need to get off this call.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Who is that?” Ben growls.
I cover the phone with my hand and shake my head. “Goodbye.” I hang up.
“Are you for real?” I yell at Ben. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”
He storms into the bathroom and slams the door.
What?
I don’t believe this. I charge in behind him. “What the fuck is going on, Ben?”
“Nothing. Get out.”
My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “I will not get out until you tell me exactly what’s going on.”
He leans in and turns on the shower. “You’re an idiot. That’s what’s going on.”
My mouth drops open. “Who the hell do you think you are? I just saved your life, and this is the thanks I get?”
He steps toward me. “No, you just put your life in danger without any thought of the consequences—the very life I have been trying to protect for five fucking years!” he screams.
“Cut the dramatics. You kill people? Is that what your…” I put my fingers up to accentuate the quotation marks, “job is?”
“Get out!” he yells.
“No. I will not get out. What the hell is your fucking job, Ben?”
My phone starts ringing again.
“Who the fuck were you on the phone with?” he growls as he gets under the shower and washes himself with soap, completely ignoring my question.
“Are you washing blood off your hands?” I sneer.
His cold eyes turn to mine and I wither a little, but I tilt my chin up defiantly. “I’m not scared of you, Ben.”
“Get. Out,” he mouths.
My eyes fill with tears. I can’t believe this. “So, this is it?” I blurt as I hold my arms out. “This is the reason you left me?” I whisper. I screw up my face in pain. “You would rather kill people than be loved by me?”
His face falls, and he drops his head in shame.
That hurt him, but I don’t care. Tears run down my face.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Please… don’t cry.”
“Don’t cry?” I scream, losing all control. “I can’t be with you, Ben. I can’t be with someone who does this.”
He shakes his head and the room is filling with steam. “No… Bridget. Don’t go.” He shakes his head, suddenly panicked. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”
I step back from him and I shake my head. This is too much. I need to get out of here.
Am I even safe here with him?
“You said you loved me,” he murmurs as his eyes search mine.
The water trickling down the drain is the only sound I can hear.
I stare at him for a moment before I whisper the depressing truth. “I don’t even know you.”
12
Bridget
I turn and storm back into the bedroom, and begin to get my suitcases and things together.
Fuck this. I don’t know where I’m going, but I do know I’m getting away from him.
I can’t fucking believe it. Nobody else could hurt me the way he does.
I hear the shower turn off and become suddenly panicked. He won’t let me leave. I need to get out of here. Quick!
I glance around the room and do a hurried check to make sure I’ve collected everything I need, and then I open the door and run out into the hall. I start to make my way to the elevator.
The door opens behind me. “Bridget!” he barks.
I scrunch my face tight and run harder. I can hardly see through my tears. Oh, God, please let this nightmare be over. Ben chases me, but I keep running until I get to the elevator. He grabs me and holds me in his arms tightly.
“Let me go,” I cry as I pound at his chest.
“I can’t,” he whispers into my hair, holding me tight. “I love you. Let me explain, please. Just come back inside and let me explain.”
“Get away from me!” I sob against his chest, howling-to-the- moon-type sobs wracking my body. How can he be this person? How can I be in love with this person? “You can’t explain this, Ben,” I whisper. “There is nothing you can say to me that will make this better.”
His eyes hold mine, and he brushes the hair back from my face as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “Give me one hour. Neither of us has slept in over twenty-four hours. You’re not safe here alone tonight.”
What? It’s not safe?
Fucking hell, this is one messed-up situation.
I glance back up the hall, towards our room. I do want an explanation, although I know it won’t change anything. But if I don’t get answers now then I may never get them, and I know I will regret not hearing him out at some point in the future. I’ll go back for my safety only. Screw him. There is no excuse he could possibly ever give me.
I pull out of his arms. “Fine. You have one hour, then I leave.”
I walk back to our room and he follows, falling in line beside me. It’s only then that I notice he’s wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist and he’s still dripping wet.
“Where are your clothes?” I snap.
“On the bathroom floor.”
I roll my eyes and my tired, bitchy streak is starting to take over.
We get to the door and he scratches his head.
“Open the door,” I tell him.
“I don’t have a key.” He tries the door handle, but it’s locked.
I look at him, deadpan. “You closed the door without getting the damn key?”
He raises his eyebrows, his face serious. “I was preoccupied.”
“What kind of spy are you? Maxwell fucking Smart?”
A trace of a smile twitches on his face.
I point at him. “Don’t you dare think this is funny, or you will find yourself at the bottom of the stairwell with a broken neck,” I growl. “I’m not even joking, Ben.”
He holds both hands up in surrender. “I’ll find a key, and then I suggest you eat and sleep, because you need to calm down.” He looks up the hall as he thinks.
I narrow my eyes. “No. What I need is to be in love with someone fucking normal.”
He bites his bottom lip as he tries not to smile.
Shit. I just admitted I was in love with him. Shut up, shut up, shut up. “I’m leaving in an hour, so while you stand there doing your fucking cutesy towel routine the clock still ticks, asshole.”
This time he can’t hold it, and a broad smile crosses his face.
I drag the suitcase up to the door and sit down on top of it. “Hurry up. Go and find the damn key,” I huff as I fold my arms over my chest. “If you’re more than ten minutes, I’m leaving.”
“Fine.” He exhales as he looks down at himself.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smirk. If I were a decent person, I wou
ld go find the key. Too bad I’m not.
“What are you waiting for? Go!” I snap.
I watch him walk down the hall with a white towel around his waist, and I glare at the floor.
Stupid prick.
He comes back moments later with a key. He unlocks the door and I walk in, while he brings my suitcase in and closes the door behind us.
I sit on the bed and fold my arms again. My anger is bubbling inside of me.
“So, Ben…” I fake a smile. “Please explain to me what the hell happened here tonight.”
He exhales before he begins to pace at the end of the bed. I wait as he pulls himself together, and finally, he replies.
“I work for UNI.”
I stare at him for a moment
Huh? Wait…what? I can hardly focus on what he’s saying because I’m just so tired. “The… what?” I frown.
“United Nations Intelligence.”
I frown. “You work for the government?”
He nods carefully. “I work in the Special Forces Elite Squad.”
“What? ” I screw up my face. “Squad? How many people are in this squad?”
“Twenty-four.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Unfuckingbelievable.
“What you do for UNI?”
His eyes hold mine, and he lifts his chin, as if steeling himself for my reaction. “I take care of national security risks.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And that’s code for killing people?”
“Yes.”
I glare at him. “Wow.”
“I signed a contract three months before I met you.”
I frown again, not understanding. “A contract?”
“You sign on for a five-year contract, just like you do with the army.” He shakes his head. “It was an honour to be offered this position.”
“An honour…” I gasp. “Killing people is not an honour, Ben.”
“Protecting civilians is an honour! ” he snaps, losing control. “I’m a soldier first, Bridget. Not all wars are fought on the front line,” he yells.
Tears fill my eyes. “And this is what soldiers do?” I whisper, shocked at his detachment.
He drops his head. “I do what needs to be done. All soldiers do.”
