I won’t call out to him, since there’s a chance it’s not him on the other side of the door. I creep toward it, and the hair on my arms stands straight up. I haven’t even put my eye to the spyhole before I know it’s not him. When I see who it is, my chest feels like a Mack truck just parked on it. It’s hard to breathe.
How the fuck did those goons find me?
They’re two of Drew’s henchmen. Mikey and Pauly. About as generic mob names as you could get. Each of them shares names with at least six other men in their family. Sure, good Catholic names all the syndicates use but hardly original, especially since none of them are the kind of Catholic I was raised.
I rack my brain for whether any paparazzi snapped photos of me at the reception last night. They were outside the hotel since a syndicate wedding reception that has the who’s who of the corporate world and criminal underworld gathers attention.I’ve learned the families do it on purpose to not only flaunt their wealth and thumb their nose at law enforcement, but they also do it to flatter the millionaires and billionaires desperate to do legitimate—and sometimes illegitimate—business with them. Apparently, there’s a lot of wheeling and dealing that happens at the receptions. If only Maks had explained that to Laura before theirs.
I purposely kept my head down and turn my face away from the cameras. Did someone leak photos from inside the event? Did I wind up online? Drew knows my family’s connections to the Diazes, so maybe he guessed I’d be there and had someone follow me.
“Madeline, open the door.”
I shy away from the peephole, scared they can see in rather than only me seeing out. I press my back against the adjacent wall and tell myself to breathe. The door handle jiggles again, and I’m thankful I flipped the bolt and put the bar across the top of the door.
“We’ll bring the hotel staff up here to let us in.”
And how do they get around the bar even if they can open the deadbolt?
That’s my only saving grace right now. I dash to where I put my purse on the sofa and snag my phone. I pray Javier’s number is still the same from high school. I scroll my contacts for Xavi. Javier is Spanish for Xavier, but there was no way I could have either of those names in my phone since Drew checked it regularly. Like not just looked at the call log or text history since anyone could delete them. Of course, he has a cousin who works for the cell company he insisted we both use. He forced me onto his plan. It meant I had to make it look like a girl’s name. Since I never called the number, he never questioned it.
I tap the contact and tap the call button, but it never connects. I look at the phone screen and see I have no service. I glance toward the door.
Motherfuckers.
I check the Wi-Fi and try to make the call that way, but I have no signal for that either. They jammed it. They don’t want me calling for help. There’s no hotel landline either, which I thought was odd. Now I’m ready to panic. I can’t call the front desk. I can’t call the police. I can’t call Javi. I can’t call Laura. I’m truly fucked because I’m trapped.
Think, Maddy.
I’ve started calling myself that. I’m not sure when, but within the past two days. It clicked, and now it’s stuck. But I don’t want to hear my own inner monologue. I want to hear Javi reassuring me I’ll survive this. I want to hear him promise to make all of this go away and know he can.
I slip my phone into my back pocket and look around the hotel room. I run through a list of things I most need and whether I can fit them into my purse. I go to the room safe and get my legit driver’s license and passport out along with my fake ones. I shove them into my bag and look around again. The windows are sealed, so it’s not like I could risk breaking my neck by slipping out one of them.
I have no choice but to wait them out.
They don’t hammer on my door constantly, not wanting to draw attention from any of the other guests. But neither do they remain silent; they call out my name. After fifteen minutes, they move on to threats.
“This will piss Drew off even more. Let us in, Madeline.”
Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.
“Don’t be awkward. He’s waiting for you outside.”
I stay out of sight of the window, but I make my way over there. I peer down to the parking lot, scanning the vehicles. I notice the one I saw earlier and thought was following me.
Why didn’t they nab me in the parking lot? Why let me get up here?
I don’t see Drew waiting outside a car, and he’d never ride in the mid-sized sedan. He’d insist on an SUV for something like this. Inconspicuous isn’t his style. He thinks making his presence known intimidates people. Subtly isn’t his specialty.
I don’t believe he’s here, but he could be nearby just as easily as he could still be in Albany. I just don’t know.
I consider the knife I pulled on Javier and Joaquin. Could I stab and run? Maybe I’d hurt Mikey, but then there’d still be Pauly behind him. Do I take my chances because they’re the only ones I have? I have a gun, but it doesn’t have a silencer. If I shoot them, someone will hear it. Can I lure them in but get out before they can grab me? Definitely not.
I pull my phone out again, but I still have no reception. Not even a half bar. It’s the little x over the wedge. I’d send up smoke signals right now if I could. It tempts me to set the fire detectors off. If they’re in the hallway, then other people will urge them to leave. Once they’re gone, then I could slip out in the crowd.
No. They’d find you in the parking lot. You could scream, but you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. You need to leave with no one noticing. That’s been the entire point all along. No one can know.
Bit late for that, don’t you think?
Now isn’t the time to dwell in negativity. There has to be something.
