Chapter Four
There was nothing for it but to eat one more Dove chocolate (this one extolled the merits of laughing with your friends) and shower off the stench of failure.
First, Ava tucked the notebook into her jacket pocket and then crossed the hallway to the women’s bathroom, double- and then triple-checking that the hostel bedroom was locked securely behind her.
Her shoulders tightened at the thought of the look on Cale’s face when he’d realized who she was. The fear in his eyes as she landed one punch and then another and another.
It hadn’t been enough to kill him.
More’s the fucking pity.
He deserved it.
But of course he had money and—fuck’s sake, health insurance, not that he needed it, because he had the kind of money health issues couldn’t bankrupt. He was going to be all right.
She, on the other hand?
The police were probably coming for her ass. And if they didn’t, Cale’s security team of large, evil former Navy SEAL chuckleheads would be on their way to finish her off.
Ava turned the shower to the hottest setting as she tried to work out her next move.
She couldn’t just show up in front of his office again, not after she’d alerted his entire team. She couldn’t even rely on him returning to that juice spot he loved.
Fuck him for that, too. Fuck anyone who could afford to drop that much money every morning on some overpriced juice.
Ava pulled the bar of soap from her toiletries bag and began scrubbing, fighting back the tears that were finally catching up with her. Why had he stopped her? And why hadn’t she just pulled her stupid knife out and stuck it between Cale’s ribs like she had planned all along?
She was a fucking failure. At this, at everything else.
She had planned, and waited, and—
And when it came down to it, she hadn’t been able to do it. She’d been able to punch him, at least. But sweat had been running down her back and soaking her red dress. Her heart had been pounding. She could barely catch her breath.
She could barely catch her breath now, and she was alone, safe in her hostel. Nobody knew she was here. Nobody knew where she was, period, because she didn’t have anybody left. Nobody she’d spoken to in months—not since that final, disappointed call from Ari’s mom, Ellie.
The soap slipped from Ava’s hands, clattering to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she said aloud to nobody in particular.
When she exited the shower, wrapping herself in her towel, she let out a string of colorful curses.
She hadn’t brought her clean clothes—they were across the hallway.
She snatched up her things, shoving her sweat-stained red dress into her toiletries bag and wrapping the towel around her as tightly as she could.
Ava fumbled with her room key at the door for a moment before the lock clicked and the door creaked open.
When she stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dimness of her room—there was only one lamp, a soft light close to the bed—she startled, dropping her towel and toiletries with a small scream.
There was a man sitting on her bed, his posture relaxed, his knees spread in a stance that said commanding. That said at ease.
It was the man from the café, the one with the big hands and corded forearms and sharp jawline. The one who had dragged her off Cale and held her firmly against his chest.
In one hand was his stolen notebook, open to the page with the red X.
And in the other was a gun.