“Right.” Fuck you. “Of course not.”
I slide from the booth, ignoring his offered hand, and lead the way outside into the chilly night air. “Maybe I should buy a bottle of something to celebrate.” I spin back to face the door, only to be stopped by his large frame sliding in front of me.
“I know you’re nervous, but we don’t need it.” His rush for a fix has risen to fever-pitch. His eyes are glazed, his cheeks flushed.
“It’ll only take a second.” I sidestep, and he shadows me.
“I’ve got whatever you need back at my place.” He walks forward, and I’m forced to retreat. One step. Two.
I raise my hand, placing it on his chest as I plant my feet. “I’m sorry, I’m going about this all wrong. We haven’t even discussed logistics.” Stall, stall, stall. “I have a room within walking distance. It’s small and simple and does the job. I’d just prefer if we had something to break the ice when we get there. Maybe a bottle of wine or some whiskey. I know a lot of body parts that taste better when moistened with liquor.”
Those plump lips smile down at me, and I see the expression for the threat it is. “With you, sweetheart, I don’t want booze.”
He grabs my hand in a tight grip, and it takes all my strength not to knee him in the groin like my intuition demands.
“Now, come on.” He tugs me along the footpath, toward the parking lot. “My car is down here.”
“We don’t need to drive. My hotel is literally at the end of the block. It’s an easy walk.”
“I’m not interested in walking.” He tries to charm me with a playboy sparkle in his eyes. “And my place is warm and clean. Not some seedy hotel on the wrong side of town.”
If I get in his car, we won’t make it to his Lake Oswego home. I’ll be driven to an isolated industrial area where he’ll try to beat me, rape me, then leave me battered and barely breathing on the side of the road.
No, thank you, Danny boy.
“I appreciate the offer, but I insist on my hotel.” I pull my hand away. “Neutral ground, ya know?”
His nostrils flare, and I wonder if he’ll drop this bullshit act and drag me, hair first, to his getaway car.
“It’s decent accommodation,” I exaggerate with a flash of my pearly whites. “You’ll like it.”
“It’s the car or nothing.”
My chest tightens. Fear and anxiety collide in a mass of tangled emotions. I can’t throw away my one and only shot at this.
At him.
But I can’t get in that car either. Not now. Not even with the looming promise of his Rohypnol-induced impairment.
Confinement in a small space would mean my fun would end and his would begin. I’d lose my advantage and he’d gain the upper hand. His strength against my strategy.
I have to stick to my plan or let him walk.
God, I don’t want to let this fucker walk.
“Then I guess this is where we part ways.” My face falls, and I don’t need to fake a stricken expression. I’m on the verge of heartbreak, devastated at the thought of this guy getting away, not only with what he’s done, but with the information I desperately need. “See ya, handsome.”
I give him a timid finger wave and the chance to demand a refund before I turn in the direction of my hotel. I take slow steps, and his pursuing footfalls don’t hit my ears. He’s not following. I guess he’s too frustrated to even ask for his cash.
Shit.
Four weeks of meticulous preparation disintegrate into painful splinters, each one penetrating my skin to exacerbate the failure.
This guy deserved what I had planned. He’d earned it over months, possibly years, of brutality. But losing the connection to my past tears me apart, limb by limb, nerve by nerve.
Anger boils my blood, the potency so rich my throat tightens with the need to scream. I can’t turn back.
I can’t.
Getting in his car is too dangerous. The drugs might not kick in for another twenty minutes. Maybe more. He’d easily overpower me. I’m not stupid enough to believe my years of self-defense, martial arts, and boxing classes could save my ass in a confined space, up against a deranged psychopath.
The knife in my boot is insurance, but I’m not infallible.
I grind my teeth to the point of pain as I trudge the eight-minute walk to the sleazy, pay-by-the-hour hotel, with its flickering red ‘Vacancy’ sign.
What the hell am I going to do?
I may never get another chance to find Jacob. I’ve failed. Again. And not only on a personal level, but all those women Dan has abused won’t get a vicarious taste of vengeance.
How have I messed this up?
Was the meticulous preparation not enough?
Should I have watched him for longer?
Could I have tried harder?
Risked more?
Fuck.
I pull the hotel key from my clutch and stride to door fifteen—the last room in the single-story complex. I slide my key into the flimsy lock, preparing to lick my wounds in private, when the noisy crunch of asphalt alerts me to a vehicle entering the parking lot. My heart kicks. A sixth sense sends goosebumps erupting along my arms. Or maybe it’s optimism.
I want this.
I want it enough that each breath hitches in my throat.
I glance over my shoulder, my limbs throbbing, and come face to face with the impeccable good fortune that stares back at me.
2
Her
I paste a surprised look on my face, placing my mental celebration on hold.
Dan cuts the engine, slides from the car, then slams the door shut.
“You changed your mind?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He stalks toward me, his smile stiff. “I did.”
I unlock the hotel door and push it wide, allowing him to proceed. “After you.”
He doesn’t respond as he strides inside, not bothering to scope his surroundings. This smug piece of shit thinks he’s invincible, and I can’t wait to prove him wrong.
He slumps onto the well-worn bed, the cheap springs squeaking with his heavy weight. A frown spreads across his forehead as he stares blankly at the tiny kitchenette in front of him.
Could my buddy Rohypnol have given him a friendly nudge of disorientation?
“You okay?” I purr, closing the door to the world.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You got a glass of water or something?”
“Sure.” I saunter to the sink, and the hair on my neck tingles as my back faces him.
Limit vulnerabilities.
Stay alert.
He pushes to his feet while I begin filling a cloudy glass with tap water. Every inch of me is tense, ready to attack, but I continue the monotonous actions, turning the tap off slowly and drying my hands on a dirty dish rag.
I swing around. He paces near the door. Like a caged dog, he wants out, but there is no out. Not until I have what I want.
“Here.” I hand over the drink and point to the sturdy wooden chair strategically placed between the bed and the stained sofa. “Have a seat and I’ll make you feel comfortable.”
He takes large gulps of the water, the deep grooves of his frown still intact when he hands back the empty glass. “No.” He shakes his head in a mix of confusion and agitation. “Let’s go. I’ll take you somewhere better than this.”