Chapter 2
Damn, damn, damn.
She’d missed her call with Charlene. Which meant shit could go south if she didn’t get in touch with her ASAP. Gemma climbed the marble steps to the second floor as anxiety inched its way up her spine. She needed to get her encrypted phone from its hiding place.
She’d been given strict instructions to keep the device hidden and take it out only at their scheduled call times.
The scent of fresh linen hit her nostrils as she moved swiftly down the hallway’s cream-colored Oriental runner. The carpet muffled the sound of her high heels. She stopped at the large white door marked 218 and pulled her key card from her clutch. She flashed it in front of the door’s scanner and the lock released.
After entering the room she’d spent the last two nights in, she secured the deadbolt behind her. She flipped her wrist and read the time: 6:18p.m. Twelve minutes. She scurried to the bathroom, lifted the lid on the tank of the toilet, and fished inside. Pulling out the plastic bag, she snapped open the zipper seal and then took out her encrypted phone. She returned the lid to the toilet, tossed the plastic bag in the wastebasket, and held up the phone.
Missed call.
Her stomach revolted. She tapped the unmarked number and pressed the device to her ear.
“You’re late.” The female voice came out clipped.
“I know. I—”
“Where’s the target?”
Gemma walked into the bedroom, grabbed her handbag from where she’d left it on the bed earlier, and stuffed her normal cell phone and charger inside with her passport—or rather Tara Turnbell’s passport. “I’m leaving my room now. I’ll verify in about thirty seconds.”
Charlene huffed. “You were supposed to do that first. Put your earpiece in. You’ll look less suspicious if you’re not snooping around with a phone.”
Gemma stifled a grunt. After this, she was done. The agency had taken up enough of her time and life. Now that they finally had their target, she’d be of no use to them. She dug into her purse and took out the compact-looking thingy. Cracking it open, she pulled out the bud and then stuck it in her ear. “All set.”
“Test,” Charlene said through the earpiece.
“It’s working.”
“Good. You’ve got a few minutes to get eyes on Silas and get out of the building.” Charlene’s businesslike tone removed some of the tension from her shoulders.
She had every reason to be cautious when it came to trusting these people, but for now, Charlene needed her, so she wouldn’t let her be harmed.
Dropping her burner phone inside her purse, Gemma slung the bag over her shoulder and surveyed the room one last time. In other situations, she’d wipe the surfaces clear of her prints, but she didn’t have time. Once Charlene’s sniper took out Silas, things would get messy quickly. The authorities would be all over this place, and the last thing she needed was to end up in a Colombian prison. Her employer might have the ability to get her out, but she didn’t believe for one minute that they wouldn’t leave her there to rot.
She stepped into the hallway and let the door close behind her. Moving soundlessly over the carpet, she reached the open-to-below hallway that held the staircase leading to the main level. Across the hall was the east wing of the hotel, where the conference rooms were located.
“I need to confirm which room he’s in,” Charlene said into her ear.
Hearing Charlene’s voice without having a phone in her hand made Gemma feel as if the irritating woman were in her head. Tension radiated across her forehead. Within the hour, she’d burn the phone and earpiece.
Her throat tightened as she reached the east wing. Gemma could only hope Charlene would keep her word and knock out the cameras so there’d be nothing to trace what happened back to her. She glanced into the first conference-room window. The blinds were up and two men in suits sat across from each other—one blond, one with wavy black hair, neither of them Silas.
“Well?”
She swallowed. “Room2A is clear,” she said, under her breath. She moved eight paces, to the next window. The blinds were drawn.
Crap.
There was a two-inch gap at the bottom, though. She leaned forward and adjusted the strap on her shoe. Lifting her gaze to the window, she peeked through the slit.
Two guards stood on one side of the room, their hands clasped in front of them and their bodies stiff. Charlene had warned her that Silas had undercover bodyguards stationed around the hotel.
A woman and three men sat around a conference table. Another man was on his feet, pacing. He held a phone away from his mouth, likely on speaker, and his free hand was shoved in his pocket. His eerily clear blue eyes flicked toward the window, and she straightened away.
Silas.
A hard lump formed in the center of her throat and expanded to her chest. She turned away from the window and quickly fumbled in her purse. Great. Just freaking great. Silas would feed her to the sharks if he thought for a second she was watching him.
She could really use some go-go gadgets right about now.
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t a spy. The best she could do was look like a lost, distracted tourist. She touched the smooth glass of her phone and pulled it out.
Unease puckered the skin at the base of her neck. She flicked open her email and waited a beat, pretending to read something. If he was going to catch her, it was better he didn’t see her run away.
Oh god, please tell me I didn’t just fuck up this whole mission.She squeezed her eyes shut but no one stormed toward the door.
“Gemma?” Charlene said. Impatience dripped from the word.
“He’s in 2B,” she whispered.
“Good work. Now get out. You have thirty seconds.” The line went dead in her ear, the abruptness sucking the air from her lungs. She clutched her phone and moved swiftly down the hall. Thirty seconds wasn’t enough time. She could almost feel a bullet cutting through her flesh. Once one shot was fired, the bodyguards would search for whoever was involved. She needed to be as far from the scene as possible.
Twenty-seven, twenty-six...
She caught the railing and paused, her foot hovering midair. Had Dallas gotten out? Her pulse skittered. She didn’t have his phone number. Didn’t know his room number. There was no way to be certain he’d left.
Twenty-two, twenty-one...
It’s too late.
All she could do was pray he’d left. She spurred herself down the stairs, the hounds of death chomping on her ass.
Charlene had instructed her during their briefing to exit the property from the side patio. Which was why she’d been heading there earlier, before Dallas found her. She hadn’t gotten the chance to scope out her escape route. Her heels smacked the marble floor of the main level, and she turned toward the wide-open side-patio doors.
She closed her eyes as she whisked past the lobby desk.
Eighteen, seventeen...
She sailed out into the hot sun. The urge to run nipped at her heels. She kept her step in check and scanned the yard.
A three-foot rock wall surrounded the property. Behind it was foliage. Panic swelled inside her veins. She ran to the wall and stared down at the slope of a mountain.
Her stomach sank with the weight of an anvil.
No...
***
Ah, shit.
Dallas hit the brakes of his rented black Mercedes and pulled a U-turn. He’d forgotten his laptop at the hotel. Surprisingly, his contact had been delayed and was good to meet at 7:45p.m. That gave him just under the two hours he’d promised Gemma he’d stay away from the hotel.
The large stone mansion came into view between the towering jungle trees. He didn’t have a clue what they were. Their leaves looked almost rubbery, and their vines hung down in fairy-tale style.
He parked in the spot nearest the entrance and walked the rest of the way up the drive. The rear patio was closer to his room, so he rounded the side of the building. A three-foot-high stone wall boxed in the property. Red and black umbrellas came into view. The dining area was even fuller than it’d been half an hour ago.
He scanned the faces of the female diners as he approached. She could be eating right now, maybe meeting with a client she didn’t want him to know about, or—
Boom!
The ground shook. Screams split the air and people dove to the ground. The tables rattled in the aftershock.
What the... Did Colombia get earthquakes? It sure hadn’t sounded like one. He lifted his gaze to the hotel.
Another blast erupted. Dallas staggered from the explosion. Glass blew from the windows and fire bulged from every orifice, sending waves of flames into the air. He shielded his face from the pellets of stone raining down. People screamed in terror.
Fear pinched his muscles.
Gemma.
He had to get inside. He raced toward the front of building. The already warm air turned downright scorching as he got closer. A handful of people came bursting out—hotel employees. Blood coated a woman’s face, and her eyes were wild with panic. A body slammed into him then a woman fell at his feet. He bent and seized her arms, helping her up. The strap of her dress was tattered and her hair was in disarray. “Everyone, stay calm! Head to the parking lot—”
Another crack split the air.
The earth rumbled under his feet, sending him toward the ground. His head smacked the stone wall. Warmth heated his skull.
All went dark.
Images flickered inDallas’s brain. Pearly white teeth. Dark hair. Bright cerulean eyes. Smooth complexion. Features blipped by one by one, not allowing him to hold the full picture. A feminine laugh echoed from the den of his memory. He tried to capture the sound and replay it, but it slipped through his grasp. The scent of raspberry and lemon taunted his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. Dust filled his nose. And... ash? He coughed and rolled to his stomach. Pain burst from his midsection, and it felt as if a hammer were striking his skull.
He blinked.
Smoke filled his vision. He turned his head toward the large mansion. Part of the stone wall was missing. There was a gaping hole in the east side of the building. A conference desk dangled on the precipice.
Jesus.
A bomb. No, several. He pushed himself into a sitting position. A low whistle screeched in his ears. He gazed around. Bodies lay on the ground, along with broken glass and stone. The air was thick with dust. He coughed into his sleeve and climbed to his feet, gripping the stone wall that had knocked him out.
The whistle in his ear grew louder. It was the only sound. Christ. He’d gone deaf. He stared toward another enormous hole in the hotel that surrounded the entrance. Rubble partially covered the distance between the building and him.
He stumbled over the rocks, grabbing whatever debris he could for support. He opened his mouth. “Gemma!” The scream ripped from his chest, but he didn’t hear it. His jaw ached as he continued yelling her name over the screeching in his eardrums.
The entire east side of the hotel had been obliterated. Parts of the west had been damaged too. If anyone still inside had survived, they’d be stuck.
The thought fired up his determination, and he climbed over the pile of boulders and entered the lobby.
A light flickered above the front desk. The body of a man lay underneath a large wooden beam. His eyes stared at the ceiling, glassy and unmoving. A puddle of blood surrounded his head. Dear god.
Dallas shoved aside the crippling fear that wanted to bring him to his knees. There was a good chance she’d been inside. That he might find her body crushed under fallen walls. He played their conversation over in his head. She hadn’t said anything about a job but had been downright pushy about trying to get him out of the hotel.
He’d find out who’d planted the bomb and—
He froze.
Holy fucking shit.