“Bambi asked Princess Psycho if we could get something to drink and earned herself a backhand instead. Looks like one of Izabella’s rings may have sliced her face open since I can see blood dripping out from under her hand.”
“Yeah, I saw that. God, I feel so bad that she’s dragged everyone into this craziness. Why didn’t she just come after m—” That’s when the penny drops. Recent events I thought were unrelated make more sense.
My hit and run accident, the “gift” waiting for me after the pre-book signing dinner – it’sallso clear now. They were never random or unrelated. Still, why didn’t she just come after me when I was on my own? Is this meant to be a statement powerplay? Or maybe she knows it’ll hurt me more by making innocent bystanders pay for my perceived sins?
It’s Toni’s turn to ask. “What?”
“This might sound crazy, but in light of our current situation, I suspect my hit and run accident and the box delivered to my condo are related to each other. And to this mess.”
Toni’s horrified expression perfectly echoes how I’m feeling right now – dismayed that these poor women have been caught up in my drama. She wraps her arm around my shoulders, offering all she’s able to in this moment – silent support and comfort.
As we huddle together, my heart aches as I think about that sweet baby of hers, waiting at home for her mama. I feel so powerless. All I can do is pray for a miracle, that we all make it home safely.
But if it’s not in the cards for me, please lord don’t let that little girl lose her mother.
Isolated from everything and everyone beyond these four walls, we quickly lose all sense of what’s going on in the “outside world.” Time crawls by, and yet, before we know it, it’s eleven thirty at night.
We’ve been stuck in this room all day with Ms. Crazy, without anything to eat or drink, without even so much as a bathroom break. I shudder to think what’s going to happen when one of my attendees can no longer hold out and needs to go. Not to mention how the humidity has climbed throughout the day.
The air is close and muggy, making it a little hard to draw a nice, deep breath. Even the air conditioner is struggling. I long to be able to, at the very least, fling a window open and get a breeze, no matter how small, into the room.
Izabella and her man move over to the door, talking quietly amongst themselves. She turns her hate-filled gaze in my direction, and my stomach clenches. I’m not sure I want to know what’s being said – can’t imagine it’s anything good. Two of the three men who left earlier return, carrying a chaise lounge.
They place it in the corner farthest from where we’re huddled, then exit the room again. I can’t decide which is worse – having all four of them watching over us, not being able to move without someone seeing. Or having the three of them out of the room and not knowing what nefarious activities they’re up to.
It’s with a huge sense of relief, though, that we see Izabella settle down on the chaise, obviously fully intending to getherbeauty rest. God, what I wouldn’t do for some shuteye. One thing to be grateful for, at least, is she’ll be out of our hair for a while. Barely gone from the room, one of the men returns to speak with her. This time, the conversation isn’t so quiet, the man talking animatedly.
“The manager is saying there is a huge tropical storm coming, and they need to evacuate everyone off the island.”
“Calm yourself. I will speak with the manager and find out exactly what is going on. Stay here and help watch over the hostages. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Tension grips the room as we watch Izabella leave.
I hate not knowing what’s going on. How much danger are we in with the storm bearing down on us if they’re evacuating the resort? The pessimist in me doubts very much we’ll see the return of dear Ms. Perez. If I learned anything from my time as a journalist, it’s that people like her always look out for number one first.Always.
The drop in barometric pressure is sucking all my energy, and I find myself struggling to stay awake as silence once again settles over the room and we wait for Izabella to return. Curling up on my side next to Tori, I rest my head in her lap.
“You okay, sweetheart,” she asks.
“Yeah, just incredibly tired. Who would have thought?” I laugh. “We’re caught up in this clusterfuck and all I want to do is sleep.”
“Tigs, that doesn’t sound like you’re okay.” I can hear the fretting in Tori’s voice but find myself too lethargic to respond.
“I’m fine. Just need a nap,” I mumble around a yawn. I close my eyes and imagine myself back home, securely snuggled up in Jessen’s embrace.
I come awake with a fright.
Lying still, my eyes closed, I try to figure out what woke me. I have no idea what the time is or how long I’ve been sleeping. My body feels heavy and sluggish as move my arm to check my watch. The luminous face tells me it’s now three thirty.
I lay and listen, my eyes closed once again, to see if I can figure out what pulled me from sleep. I wait. And … nothing.
It’s just as I’m just about to settle down again when it dawns on me. That’s exactly it. Nothing. There is a marked absence of sound. No voices, no animal sounds, no movement.Absolutesilence. In the time we’ve been here, it’s never been one hundred percent quiet. There’s always some sound or movement.
A bird call, people moving along the paths, chatting, something. Right now, there’s none of that. Not a single sound. Not. One.
I’m so focused on this conundrum, I don’t notice the man’s approach until he grabs a handful of my hair and, without warning, yanks me to my feet using the strands for leverage.
The pain brings tears to my eyes, and I wrap both my hands around my hair under his grip, attempting to alleviate the excruciating pain radiating from my scalp.
