And if you get him killed in the process?
That thought is enough to finally slap some sense into me. I clear my throat and step back, dissipating the electric chemistry buzzing in the air around us. “Thanks. I’ll have a look online after breakfast.”
He doesn’t respond. When I look up to see his reaction, I’m left wanting because his fathomless stare is as guarded as ever before he walks away. If he does have feelings for me, one way oranother, he’s unwilling to share them. I wonder if he ever shares that sort of thing with anyone.
I have to wonder if I’m overcomplicating the matter. Maybe he’s attracted to me, and that’s all there is to it. Hell, perhaps he’s just horny. Could be, but Tommy strikes me as a man of action rather than words. I suspect he’d be more direct if that were the extent of his interest. Keeping me implies a degree of commitment, doesn’t it?
Not if he wants to keep you as his sex slave.
Okay, that’s enough of this delightful little dive down the rabbit hole. Instead of guessing at his thoughts and motives, perhaps I should focus more on his actions. Or maybe I shouldn’t. Because when I think of all the little ways he’s shown me kindness, I feel even worse about the danger he could be in. He doesn’t deserve that, and if I have any self-respect at all, I’d free him of my presence sooner rather than later.
Finally, something all the voices in my head can agree upon. The only problem? I didn’t expect sooner to arrive quite so quickly. I find myself locked in my room after breakfast so Tommy can shower and decide it’s as good a time as any to run. If I truly believe leaving is best and that time is of the essence, I need to go. Now.
I throw my things back into my bag, making sure to leave his credit card on the dresser.
I can hear the faint thrum of water running, so I get to work. Bobby pins aren’t nearly as easy to work with as Gran’s “keys,” but they suffice. Interior locks aren’t exactly made to thwart trespassers. In less than a minute, I get the door open and hurry from my room and out of the apartment. I press the elevator call button at least fifteen times before it finally arrives, and a minute later, I’m walking free on a busy Manhattan street.
Of course, free is relative.
I’m no longer physically captive, but paranoia is my new prison. Each person I pass is suspect. Every glance in my direction is a possible threat. I am completely unprotected out here in the open. It’s terrifying.
I keep my head down and make a beeline for the first hotel I see. Once inside, I pull out the small stash of money I still have from home. I’m a little surprised Tommy didn’t take it along with my lock pick tools. It’s things like that that make me think he’s a decent man beneath it all, which is why it’s best that I’m gone.
I book a room for a single night and head upstairs, not breathing easily until I’m safely tucked away in my room. I did it. I’m in the wind. Sitting on the white cotton duvet, I look at my new sanctuary and discover that I don’t feel the relief I expected to feel. I’m free, but I’m also alone.
I get out the phone and text Sachi the hotel name and room number. At least I get one last visit with her. After today, I’m on my own.
Sachi texts that she’ll be by shortly. I prop myself against the headboard, cuddle the down pillows, and scroll through daytime TV until a knock sounds at the door. I hurry over to let in my friend, but when I open the door, it’s not Sachi on the other side. It’s six feet of bristling Italian, hands clenched furiously at his sides.
CHAPTER 13
TOMMY
The soundof my alarm stings more than I thought it would. I knew Danika would try to run. She’s too terrified not to. So why do I feel a stab of betrayal knowing she did exactly what I expected her to do?
I must have been holding on to some shred of hope that it wouldn’t happen. That kind of irrational nonsense only adds to my irritation. The one silver lining to this turn of events will be getting to gut the man she’s protecting, should she lead me to him.
I towel off and check my phone. The trackers I placed in her things triggered my geofencing perimeter alarm when she exited the building. All three are still on her and sending a strong signal from down the block. Time to get dressed and see where she’s going.
Most people would jump on a train and be halfway to Philly by the time I caught up with them. Not Danika. She’s two blocks over at a Holiday Inn Express.
I swear to Christ, if I find her in a room with a man, I’ll bury the motherfucker.
A hundred bucks buys me the room number. GPS works great on flat ground but can be a nightmare when it comes to high-rise buildings. Fortunately, money helps fill in the gaps.
As I ride the elevator to the third floor, I check my weapons one last time. I came prepared. When the elevator door chimes my arrival, I envision the bell ringing in a boxing match. Time for the show to begin.
I knock on the door to the room number given to me by the dickhead kid at the registration desk. Danika swings the door wide open as if welcoming a long-lost friend. She didn’t even check the peephole, for Christ’s sake. She was expecting someone, and judging by the sudden horror on her face, it wasn’t me.
“Tommy?”
I push past her and scan the room for other occupants. If she planned to meet a man here, her reaction to my arrival leads me to believe I got to her first, but I’m not making any assumptions. I don’t see any signs of anyone else, just an empty room with a TV playing an old 90s sitcom.
“Did you track me?” she demands from behind me while I check the bathroom.
“Of course I did.” I peek under the bed next, but like most modern hotel beds, it’s enclosed. She’s alone, but she was definitely expecting someone. Good. I’ll be waiting when he gets here.
Satisfied, I turn my attention to her with a withering look. “Care to tell me who it is you’re meeting?”
