I carry her to the front door, punching in the code V texted me with one hand while keeping her secure with the other. The lock clicks open, and I kick the door shut behind us, scanning the interior in one practiced sweep—modern furniture, open floor plan, security system panel by the door, decent sight lines, minimal blind spots.
Charlotte shivers in my arms as I set her gently on the plush sectional sofa. Her eyes dart around the unfamiliar room, wide with panic. Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession, breath coming in short gasps. Her fear cuts me deeper than any knife could.
“They knew my name,” she says, voice breaking. “How did they know who I was? Why were they calling me their 'mark'? What do they want with me?” Each question comes faster than the last.
I kneel in front of her, taking her trembling hands in mine, “Charlotte, look at me. Breathe with me, sweetheart. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
She tries to follow my lead, but her breath hitches. “I can't?—”
“You can,” I say firmly, squeezing her hands. “Focus on me. Nothing else matters right now. Just us, in this moment.”
I exaggerate my breathing, making it deep and slow. After a few false starts, she begins to match my rhythm. The color gradually returns to her cheeks.
“That's it,” I murmur, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You're safe here. No one knows about this place except my tech guy, and he's the best in the business.”
“You’re going back for Minny, right? If anything happened to her…”
“She’s my next stop as soon as I know you’ll be okay for a little bit.”
“I'll be fine,” she says, though her tone wavers. “Just bring her back safely.”
I study her face, noting the forced bravery in her expression. Charlotte's putting on a front, trying to be strong when she's anything but. The woman who was laughing on that zip-line yesterday is gone, replaced by someone haunted and afraid.
“There's a security system,” I tell her, standing and moving to the panel by the door. “I'm going to arm it when I leave. Don't open this door for anyone but me or Minny. You understand?”
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself, “How long will you be gone?”
“An hour, maybe less. Give me your phone.” She reaches into her purse and pulls it out, putting it into my hand. I punch in my number and V’s office line into her contacts. “If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you call the contact under V. He'll have people here in minutes.”
“V?”
“My tech guy. The one who found this place.” I move to the kitchen, checking the windows and back door. All secure. “He's got more eyes on this city than the NSA.”
Charlotte watches me pace the room, “You're really worried about this, aren't you?”
I stop mid-stride, turning to face her. The truth sits heavy in my chest—I'm more than worried. I'm terrified. Someone targeted her, which means this is no accident. It means theyknow something about her that I don't, and that knowledge could get her killed.
“Yes,” I admit, coming back to kneel in front of her again. “This isn't some random casino creep trying his luck. This was coordinated. They knew your name, knew who you were before they even approached you.”
Her face pales further. “But why me? I'm nobody important.”
The question hangs between us, and I wish I had an answer that wouldn't terrify her more. Instead, I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones.
“You're important to me,” I say, the words escaping before I can stop them. “And right now, that's all that matters.”
She presses her forehead to mine, “Be careful. Please.”
I capture her lips in a kiss that's meant to be brief but deepens instantly, desperation fueling us both. Her hands clutch at my shirt, pulling me closer as if she can anchor herself to safety through my touch. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
“Lock the door behind me,” I order, reluctantly pulling away. “Set the alarm. Call Minny as soon as I’m gone and tell her I’m coming.”
She nods, following me to the door. As I step outside, I turn back to see her silhouetted in the doorway, small and vulnerable despite her brave face. I watch her for a few seconds before I head for my bike.
I race through the streets of Vegas, the wind whipping against my face as I weave between cars. My mind churns with possibilities, each more nefarious than the last. Who the fuck would target Charlotte? What connection could she possibly have to this situation?
The hotel comes into view, and I gun the engine, cutting through traffic with practiced precision. I park in the loading zone, not giving a shit about hotel policy.
The lobby is bustling with tourists, oblivious to the danger lurking in their midst. I keep my head down, scanning for any sign of the men Charlotte described. Nothing seems out of place, but that doesn't mean they're not here.
