Hotel Hideaway: (Soldiering On #4)

by Aislinn Kearns

  His mind couldn’t settle, distracted by everything with Sam. He glanced at the time. The event started in less than an hour. He couldn’t face going, not without Sam. They’d come up with everything together, and the plan hinged on the two of them working in tandem. Every step had Sam’s presence stamped all over it and Cameron didn’t want the reminder.

  Plus, an assassin followed his every move. He shouldn’t leave the hotel without protection, not even in the short space of time between the hotel, a cab, and the other hotel where the event took place.

  So, he paced, letting his fury burn off. If Sam wanted to distrust him, and let what they had go, then fine. Her loss.

  But the ache in his chest told him he wasn’t as nonchalant as he pretended.

  As soon as she’d accused him, Cameron had shut off, retreating into his protective mask. And that’s what it was—he could admit that now. Instinctive protection against emotions, hurt, and machinations.

  But he couldn’t maintain the mask now, in private. The emotions were too much, too overwhelming.

  This is why he should have stayed focused on his mission, not allowed himself to be distracted by Sam. The fact he couldn’t even face attending the event—to use what might be his last chance to bring one of his enemies down—was telling, even to himself. He couldn’t pull it off, regardless, given the frazzled state of his mind.

  He had to refocus on the important things—his brother, his mission. Those things mattered. Not a woman that couldn’t open her heart enough to trust him not to be a cold-blooded murderer.

  Erica had to be brought down. Jason had to be found and brought to justice. Maybe not tonight, while he was so raw, but soon.

  His phone rang, startling him from his thoughts. He froze midstep. Sam?

  He checked the display, but it was infinitely worse—Erica. A cold shiver ran down his spine, as if Erica could’ve heard what he’d just thought about her.

  He took a deep breath, then another, digging deep for a reserve of calm. He had to pull the mask back on, but thankfully only to disguise his voice.

  “Hello,” he answered, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on their conversation.

  “Cameron, I’m leaving now. I want to make sure everything is prepared.” He could hear the sounds of a busy street in the background, people passing and cars honking their annoyance.

  “It is. However, I don’t think I can make it.” He sat gingerly on the end of the bed.

  Erica made a sound of annoyance. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have to be there.” The background noise silenced with a click, as if she’d closed the door of the car.

  “I think I ate something—”

  “I don’t care. Get your suit on and get to the hotel. Need I remind you how important this event is to us?”

  “No, but—”

  “Good.” Her voice faded, as if she’d taken it away from her ear. “Jason, let’s go.”

  The phone went silent. Cameron’s eyes widened in shock. He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. She’d said Jason. He hadn’t imagined it.

  His blood ran hot in his veins with a swift injection of adrenaline, his heart thundering in his chest with every rapid heartbeat. He had no guarantee it was the same Jason, of course. It was a common enough name. But how many Jasons did Erica know on a casual, first name basis? Cameron had to guess there weren’t many.

  He had to take the chance. He didn’t know if he’d ever find Jason again, get close to him. Particularly if he took Erica down, because Jason would be smart enough to go into hiding after that.

  Cameron couldn’t wait for Sam to come to her senses, he had to do this on his own. Now. Before it was too late. And while there, he may as well kill two birds with one stone and take down Erica as well. He could pull this off on his own. He had to.

  Reinvigorated with a renewed sense of purpose, Cameron strode to the closet and pulled out his suit.

  He could do this. He just had to make sure he didn’t get killed in the process, or lose his focus on the mission by thinking of Sam.

  Easy enough.

  But the distracted ache in his chest told him otherwise.

  Chapter 20

  “He’s not here.” Zack’s voice came through the phone line loud and clear, the words a shock to Duncan’s system.

  “What the hell do you mean?” Duncan growled. He stood abruptly from the seat at his desk and paced the room. He could feel Mandy’s eyes boring into him as he moved, trying to figure out what was happening.

  “Sam had to call the manager here and tell him I replaced her. Then, he finally spilled that Cameron had left the building about thirty minutes ago.”

  “Where would he go with an assassin on his tail and no one to protect him?” Duncan gritted out. He glanced at Mandy to see her sitting on the couch in his office, her eyes wide with surprise. Neither of them had anticipated this outcome.

  “I don’t know,” said Zack. “But, like, are we sure the assassin thing is legit? Because if he is the one that masterminded the hostage situation…” He trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

  “Good point. We have to find this guy.”

  “Hang on.” The sound muffled as Zack covered the mouthpiece. Zack ask the manager a question, but Duncan couldn’t make it out. He tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh.

  “Okay,” said Zack, voice clear again. “The manager said he’d dressed in a nice suit. Chances are he’s attending that event tonight.”

  Duncan hummed. “I guess the question is whether he’ll try to enact Sam’s plan himself, or whether he has another reason for going now he’s been discovered.”

  “What do we do?” Zack asked, deferring to Duncan as he had once done to his superior officer in the Marines.

  “We have to get into that event. I have no idea if it’ll be a takedown mission, a rescue mission, or nothing at all, but we can’t take any chances. If this Cameron guy had masterminded the Christmas hostage situation, then he’ll have another shot at getting his money. The event tonight is for all their wealthiest clients.”

  “Deja vu,” Zack murmured.

  “Exactly.” Duncan blew out a breath. He couldn’t let this happen again. And he definitely wouldn’t let Mandy within a mile of that building this time.

  Zack huffed. “Alright, I’ll be back at the office in a minute. We’ll suit up and go. I think Blake just finished his assignment, so we should bring him, too.”

  “Paul’s still in the office. He can be our eyes.”

  “The gangs back together again. We just need Sam.”

  Duncan hesitated. “She didn’t seem in a good place last we spoke.”

  Air rustled the microphone on Zack’s phone. Duncan could hear the sounds of the street and figured Zack must be moving towards his car.

  “Call her anyway,” Zack suggested. “You know she’d want the chance to decide for herself. And from what I hear, if anyone has a right to take this Cameron guy down, it’s her as much as you and Mandy.”

  Duncan acknowledged Zack’s point with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll call. You focus on getting back here.”

  They disconnected, and Duncan finally looked at Mandy. Her eyes were stricken.

  “You think he did this to us?” she asked.

  Duncan shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. But I do know we have to find out.”

  Mandy stood and took a few steps towards him. Her eyes never left his, and he couldn’t look away. “You’re willingly walking into a situation similar to the one that nearly killed us both?”

  “I have to. Whether it’s to protect a guy someone framed, or take down the guy that tried to hurt you—us—I have to be there.”

  Mandy slid even closer, until they stood chest to chest. “You’re very brave,” she whispered. Her eyes filled with an admiration he didn’t deserve. If she knew the true reason he wanted to go—to find the man that had been responsible for putting Mandy through pain and terror and make him suffer, she wouldn’t think so highl
y of him.

  “Not really,” he demurred. She looked so kissable with her head tilted up like that, as if she offered her mouth to him. Duncan tried to keep control of his thoughts, but having her so close—within arm’s reach—was a temptation he could barely resist.

  “It’ll be dangerous,” she insisted. “Regardless of Cameron’s loyalties.”

  “Maybe. But I’m used to danger.” A truth, but he said it in a teasing way so she’d smile. And she did, setting his heart thumping.

  “I have to get ready,” he said, but made no effort to move.

  Mandy nodded, also not moving, searching his eyes for something he didn’t fully understand how to give her. Then, she levered herself up on tiptoes, grasping his arm for balance, and pressed her lips against his cheek. “Be careful,” she murmured in his ear.

  She dropped back on her heels and stepped away from him. He instantly missed her warmth.

  “I will,” he reassured her.

  He had to hope he could keep that promise.

  ◆◆◆

  Sam reached the front door to her apartment with her head still a mess. She kept circling the main point—would Cameron be capable of ordering the deaths of a few hundred people?

  The Cameron she knew—the one she’d made love to—definitely wouldn’t. But the man behind the mask? She didn’t know who that was, or what he was capable of.

  She needed a shower to scrub off both the scent of Cameron from her skin and the disturbing thoughts that kept rocketing through her mind. Then, she’d probably need a long workout to clear her head. And after that, maybe, she’d be ready to face Cameron and talk through exactly what she’d learned about him and whether it had any truth.

  She turned her key in the lock and stepped into her apartment, her mind on the shower. She shut the door behind her and wearily shuffled towards the bathroom.

  A hand shot from the darkness, holding a white cloth. The sweet stench of chloroform assaulted her nostrils. Sam stepped back, her heart seizing in fear and shock. She landed awkwardly on her bad leg and stumbled into the wall as the muscles sagged. Her mind cleared instantly, all thoughts of Cameron exorcised, replaced by a rush of adrenaline.

  A figure materialised from the shadows, moving towards Sam with a steady pace, cloaked all in black. Small, female, like a doppelganger of Sam herself. Sam blinked, trying to focus in the dark apartment. It had to be the same assassin as before, but why had she targeted Sam instead of Cameron?

  The assassin’s hand darted out again, and this time Sam dodged more elegantly, staying on her feet. She spun around the other woman and darted into the living room. She backed up, keeping her eyes fixed on her opponent. What did she know about this assassin that might help? Her speciality was staging accidental deaths. That would mean she wouldn’t want to injure Sam unnecessarily. It would explain the chloroform—her plan must be to knock Sam out, then kill her.

  Well, Sam fully intended to put a wrench in those plans.

  She feinted another step back and then launched herself forward, towards her attacker. If the assassin didn’t want Sam to be visibly injured, she couldn’t defend herself too strongly from a frontal attack. Sam threw herself into the assault, landing two punches directly to the assassin’s solar plexus. The woman stumbled back, dropping her white cloth and struggling to draw a breath.

  Sam bared her teeth as a thrill of triumph and anticipation sparked through her. This is what she wanted—needed—with her mind such a muddle. An all-out brawl against a matched opponent.

  The faint sound of Sam’s phone ringing penetrated the haze of her concentration, but she ignored it. She needed to focus.

  Sam pressed her advantage, throwing herself into the fight by unleashing a right hook. The assassin blocked it without even looking, pushing it away with her forearm.

  If Sam hadn’t had a dodgy leg, she would’ve kicked her opponent, but she had to keep both feet on solid ground for balance. So she tried to backhand the assassin with a closed fist. Unfortunately the other woman had recovered her breath, and blocked that, too. This time, the assassin counter-attacked, kicking towards Sam’s ribs. Sam blocked it but barely. The woman was stronger than she’d expected, and Sam was no weakling.

  Sam locked the woman’s leg in against the ribs she’d tried to kick by looping her arm around the woman’s calf, holding her in place while she punched her, twice, in the nose. When the assassin’s hands flew to her bloody nose, Sam used her right leg to sweep her opponent’s left out from under her.

  They hit the ground with a thump, and now Sam had the advantage purely because her weak leg no longer held her back. Plus, she loomed above the other woman, the assassin’s right leg still locked against her.

  Sam drew her arm back to punch her opponent again. The assassin caught her fist with her hand, the impact running up Sam’s arm and into her shoulder.

  Sam breathed heavily now as they stared at each other. Her bad lung pulled faintly with each breath, and the ache in her leg made itself known. Despite it all, despite the fact this woman intended Sam to die tonight, Sam realised she was enjoying herself. She revelled in the test of her skills and the thrill of sparring against a well matched opponent.

  But she had to end it quickly. Chances were her opponent had more stamina than she did, and a far greater willingness to kill than Sam.

  She dropped the leg she held, freeing her other hand. The assassin tried to slither back and away, but Sam gripped her ankle. The assassin reared, but Sam was ready for her, slamming her head with her own. The jolt shuddered through them, and Sam blinked to clear the dazed feeling in her brain.

  Using her chance, Sam reached to the sideboard next to them and ripped open the drawer. She put her hand inside, searching frantically. Got it. She snatched the handcuffs from the drawer and locked it around the wrist of the assassin. The woman jerked that arm as Sam finished, throwing Sam off balance so she pitched forward. Then, the woman kneed Sam in the side. It hit right near her old wound, where the bullet had pierced her lung. She flinched reflexively, and the assassin used that opportunity to scramble backwards.

  But Sam recovered quickly, throwing herself forward and catching her opponent at the knees. The woman crashed forward, landing on her face. Sam slammed herself on top of the woman’s back, keeping her down. Then, she found the arm with the handcuff locked on it, and latched the other end to radiator.

  Once that was done, she slid out of reach as if her opponent burned in flames. She stopped in the middle of the room, on her knees, breathing hard. Her lung twinged, her leg even more so. But the satisfaction of triumph still ricocheted through her.

  Her opponent sat and tugged on the handcuffs. They clanged against the metal of the radiator, but didn’t budge.

  Slowly, the assassin turned towards Sam. They eyed each other for a long moment across the room, and again the idea struck Sam that this woman—with similar skills and build as her—was like the Bizarro World version of herself.

  “What’s your name?” she asked curiously.

  The assassin hesitated, then slowly reached up and pulled the mask off her face.

  Dark hair, dark eyes. Hard to see much else in the shadowed room. But she looked like any other woman Sam might come across on the street. Hell, she may even have at some point and not remembered.

  “You bested me,” the woman replied instead. “No one has ever done that before.” She had a faint accent, but not one Sam could distinguish. She didn’t sound angry at the statement, more curious, or even appreciative.

  Sam shrugged. “You were an excellent opponent.”

  The woman smiled. “In another life, I think we could have been friends,” said the woman.

  Sam didn’t say anything to contradict her.

  “I always admire a woman with skill. I’m glad a woman beat me, if it had to be someone.”

  Sam cracked a smile at that. “I understand the sentiment.” Her breathing was back to normal now, and she knew she’d have to call the police. She remembered
the phone call during their fight, and her heart kicked at the thought it might be Cameron.

  “I thought you might,” the assassin said, a sparkle to her eyes. “It is a shame they hired me to kill you. I would have liked us to meet under different circumstance.”

  Sam had the distinct feeling she’d enjoy that, too, much to her own surprise.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, you know I’ll have to call the police now, right?”

  The woman shrugged in return. “If you must. It was about time I retire anyway. I’ve grown bored of this life. Not enough challenges.”

  “Until me?” Sam asked.

  “Until you,” the other woman agreed with a smile. “You defeated me twice. I should reward you for that.” She narrowed her eyes, and Sam felt uncomfortably like a bug under a microscope.

  “There’s no need for that,” Sam said, not sure she wanted to know what an assassin considered a reward. She stood and looked for her phone. She kept one eye on the assassin, but the woman didn’t seem to be making any effort to escape.

  “How do you feel about Cameron Lawrence?” the woman asked Sam.

  Sam stumbled to a stop. How did an assassin know about her and Cameron?

  “It is my job to know all about my subject,” the assassin said to her with a smile.

  The confusing array of emotions that had plagued Sam before now came back with a vengeance. Was Cameron a villain, capable of murder? Was everything she knew about him a lie? Or had he been set up?

  “I don’t know,” Sam said eventually, then resumed her hunt for the phone. She eventually found it tucked under the sideboard.

  “Well, I will help you decide. Whatever makes you think he is not what he seems, you should look to Erica for blame.”

  Sam glanced at the assassin, her hand tightening around the phone. “What do you mean?” she gritted out.

  “There is more than one way to bring a man down. My way is death, but Erica’s is less…violent than that, but not always less brutal.” After a pause, the assassin continued. “She can destroy a person’s reputation so thoroughly even those that love him the most would doubt him.” She said it with a hint of smugness, as if she delighted in knowing more than Sam.