Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Anton
I sat in the front passenger seat of the Volvo as Zeke navigated the city streets toward the Midtown Motel. Leaving Serena alone in the penthouse bedroom had left me on edge, even if it was only for a short time. Keeping a low public profile was becoming harder and harder, and having her there was a risk. For all I knew, she was a tabloid plant looking to get an inside scoop. Vultures were everywhere. While she wouldn’t find anything incriminating about me lying around, I didn’t like having strangers in my personal space.
I wasn’t sure why I’d felt compelled to bring her to the penthouse in the first place. I was the moth, and she was the flame. I was drawn to her despite the danger. The sight of her so vulnerable had stirred a protective instinct I hadn’t felt since my mother was alive, and it was unsettling.
However, when she’d emerged from the bathroom looking pale and gaunt, I knew I’d made the right choice. Her steps had been slow and deliberate and so weak that she reminded me of a fragile flower that might wilt at the slightest touch. Nobody could have faked that.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Zeke asked, breaking the silence in the car.
“What do you mean?”
“This woman. You’ve been quiet ever since you brought her to the penthouse—near lifeless I might add. Not to mention, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman inside your place before.”
“That’s because there hasn’t been one. Ever. At least not while I was the owner.”
“Exactly. And now we’re going to get this woman’s things from her hotel. Who you’re sleeping with isn’t any of my business, but I need to know if I should do a background check on her.”
“It’s not like that. She’s the person of interest from the Met Gala—Dr. Martinelli.”
“ She’s Dr. Martinelli? The archeologist?” Zeke asked, incredulous.
“Yes.”
The very sexy archeologist.
I kept that opinion to myself. I wasn’t used to being caught unawares, yet Serena had hit me like a sucker punch. Until I could figure out why this woman unnerved me so much, it was best to keep my thoughts private.
“The phrasing of the article had me picturing?—”
“Someone different?” I finished for him. “I did, too. I don’t know if there’s any connection to the Dr. Martinelli that was mentioned in the article you showed me. I didn’t have the chance to ask before she fell ill. It was all so unexpected, and it threw me off my game. I wasn’t sure what to think when I learned her name, so I went for a walk. I came back and found her barely conscious on a bench. That’s when I called you to come get us. ”
“You went for a walk? Where?” Zeke asked, not bothering to hide the accusation in his voice.
Shit.
I shook my head, regretting the slip up immediately.
“No need to get jumpy. I didn’t go that far,” I said. “I turned around near Central Park.”
“That’s well outside the security perimeter set up for the Met Gala, and too far for you to go alone. You’re playing Russian roulette with your life, boss. I think it’s time we revisit around-the-clock protection. I can only split my time between you and the club so much. I want to bring someone else in.”
I pressed my lips together in a tight line, annoyed that he was pushing the issue again. I wasn’t na?ve. I knew my rapid rise in status meant increased threats. I’d hired Zeke because he was the only person I could trust with my personal security and sensitive club details. He had all the training, skills, and expertise necessary. I wasn’t ready to bring someone else into the fold—even though I knew he was right. I was going to have to expand my circle sooner rather than later.
“We can start the vetting process for potential candidates next week,” I replied.
It was the only concession I would make for now. If there was one thing I was good at, it was self-preservation. I didn’t believe I’d ever trust anyone as much as I did Zeke, but knew it was in my best interest to heed his warning.
The motel loomed ahead, a grim picture against the more modern structures flanking the six-story building. Zeke pulled up to the curb and we silently got out of the car. The storm that had threatened most of the night had finally moved in, causing cold rain to needle at my cheeks. The wind kicked up, sweeping and howling within the man-made canyons. I tugged the collar of my jacket up to block the worst of it as I walked briskly toward the motel.
A neon sign flickered intermittently above the entrance, casting an eerie glow over the wet, cracked pavement. When I imagined Serena staying in a place like this, my disdain for the seedy motel only deepened.
The air carried a peculiar mix of stale cigarette smoke, marijuana, and an indistinct mustiness. The check-in counter had a sign noting that the attendant was at lunch. I scoffed. It was nearing midnight. Clearly, the desk staff had chosen not to return.
“This place is a dump,” Zeke remarked. I glanced his way to see his eyes sweep over the dubious surroundings, carefully taking in every inch of the place with his hawk-like gaze. His distaste mirrored mine. The motel’s infamous seedy reputation had preceded it, a fact that now seemed irrefutable as we ventured further down the corridor.
We reached the bank of elevators, and I pulled out the keycard that I’d taken from Serena’s purse. The envelope had room number 310 written on it. Pressing the button for the third floor, we ascended in silence. When the doors opened, we were greeted with a dimly lit hallway. The poor lighting couldn’t mask the faded gold wallpaper peeling at the edges. The red carpet was stained and worn, and the banged up wooden trim work was caked with layers of chipped paint.
The only solace I got from being here was the knowledge that Serena would never have to return—at least not if I had anything to do with it. The more I looked around, the more disgusted I became. If it were up to me, I’d have the place leveled.
When we reached her assigned room, I unlocked the door and pushed it open, but stopped on the threshold. I hadn’t expected the room to be in better condition than the hallway, but I didn’t anticipate finding complete and utter chaos. Clothes had been tossed from suitcases and left strewn across the floor. Dresser drawers were pulled out and emptied with reckless abandon. This wasn’t a mess created by laziness or sloppy living. It was bold destruction driven by something sinister.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I scanned the room. The bed bore the brunt of it. The sheets were a tangled mess atop a mattress that had been sliced open and shredded six ways to Sunday. Bedside lamps lay toppled, and pillow stuffing littered every square surface. The cracked mirror on the dresser reflected the aftermath of the upheaval, its broken pieces littered on the floor.
“What a mess…” I said as I stepped further into the trashed space.
I glanced behind me at Zeke. His right hand was inside his suit coat, fingers wrapped around the grip of his 9mm. His jacket was tailored so precisely, that only a trained eye would notice the holster and firearm. But I knew it was there. It was a job requirement.
“This is bad,” Zeke muttered as he took in the damage. His sharp eyes darted around the room for any signs of immediate danger. Appearing satisfied that there wasn’t any, he turned back toward the door and inspected the handle. Running his pointer finger along the jamb, he shook his head. “No damage here. Whoever did this had to have had key access to the room. But check this out.”
“What is it?”
Zeke closed the door so I could see the backside. Someone had spray painted a misshapen spiral with a childlike drawing of an eye. Its jagged and irregular lines seemed as though they’d been put there by a trembling hand. A rough oval encircled the design, giving it an unfinished, chaotic appearance, almost as if its creator had been hurried.
Zeke ran a finger over the paint.
“Paint is dry. Hard to tell if this is recent. What do you think it’s supposed to be?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No idea. ”
“Kind of looks like a snake with an eye that’s too big.”
There was a disconcerting stillness to the air, and unease settled in the pit of my stomach. This went beyond intrusion of someone’s personal space. What happened here was violent.
“What do you think, Zeke? Random theft or something else?”
“Nah. A regular thief would have wanted to get in, take anything of value, and get out undetected. Destroying the place and spray-painting graffiti would be a waste of time.”
“This motel is such a dive. That spray painted thing behind the door may be old and completely unrelated to this.”
“True. But, I’m certain this wasn’t random. The way every drawer is pulled out, the mattress—this place was deliberately tossed. The question is, what were they looking for?” he said with a slight edge to his voice.
I thought about the ruby necklace Serena had been wearing. That alone made her an easy target, but something told me that the necklace wasn’t what the intruders were looking for.
I made my way around to the other side of the bed and began to collect Serena’s personal belongings. Instinct warned me to use caution, and I was careful not to touch anything other than the items we’d be taking with us.
As I gathered her clothing, I noticed a leather-bound journal with a worn cover and frayed edges lying on a discarded T-shirt. Picking it up, I flipped through some of its pages. They were filled with cursive writing, hand drawn maps, and symbols I didn’t recognize.
“What is it?” Zeke asked from behind me. I turned to see him looking at me expectantly.
“I’m not sure. Looks like a journal of some sort.”
“We should call the police,” he advised.
“I don’t know if…” My words died on my tongue when I noticed thin lines of white powder dusting the dresser. I was no st ranger to drugs, and would recognize the remnants of those precise lines anywhere.
Cocaine.
My stomach tightened. Seeing it felt surreal, like an unimportant detail in an old crime movie. I hesitated as painful memories threatened to resurface. The room suddenly felt colder.
I took a step closer, the outside edges of what was left of the mirror catching my reflection. In it, I saw a younger version of myself. My jaw hardened and I looked away, refusing to let the ghosts from my past in. I needed to focus on the current situation.
Did the coke belong to Serena?
The question circled in my mind, but she just didn’t seem the type. Or perhaps a random junkie had gotten in. It might explain the trashed room, but I couldn’t be sure. A hundred possibilities raced through my head, but none of the answers made sense. My eyes shifted back to the slashed mattress, and then to the spray-painted door. A chill raced down my spine. I wasn’t easily rattled, but instinct warned me that something bigger was in play.
“Let’s hold off on calling the police,” I told Zeke.
“Why?”
I considered how little I knew about the woman fast asleep at my penthouse. If she was in danger, she’d be safe at my place—but only if nobody knew she was there. My building had security, but it was minimal at best. Zeke recently contracted a firm to bring the systems up to date, but they hadn’t begun the work yet.
“Something isn’t sitting right with me. I need to find out more about Serena, and you and I both know that cops will only complicate matters. I don’t want them sniffing around anything related to me, even if I don’t have a direct connection to what happened here. Call it gut instinct, but let’s try to figure this out on our own first. For now, we’ll just collect her personal things and get out of here. Be careful not to touch anything else.”
“Are you sure that’s the right move, boss?” Zeke asked. His voice was heavy with doubt, but he was already pulling a linen handkerchief from his breast pocket.
I watched as he began wiping down the door area to remove any fingerprints we might have left, fighting off momentary indecision about the risks. The last thing I needed was to be connected to a scene like this. While I doubted the motel had much in terms of security, Zeke would need to check for CCTV cameras to eliminate any evidence of our being here. Street cams were another matter entirely, but Zeke had connections. I needed to trust my instincts.
“No, I’m not sure this is the right move. But something is telling me to play it this way for now. When we get back, I want you to get in touch with your contacts and find out everything there is to know about Serena Martinelli.”
An hour later, I stepped off the elevator and entered the main foyer of my quiet penthouse. Zeke was two floors down in his apartment, already collecting as much information as he could find on the woman sleeping in my bed. He had a wide network of contacts and resources at his disposal, and I knew he would bring back any relevant information he found.
I rolled her suitcases into the living room, and then reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the leather-bound journal. I had planned on retreating to my office to study it but decided to check on her first.
My bedroom was still and hushed when I entered, with only Serena’s gentle breaths breaking the silence. The storm clouds had cleared, making room for the moon to shine through the large windows. Moving to her, I reached down and placed my palm over her forehead. She still felt warm, but not as fiery hot as she’d been earlier.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest while she slept. Taking the cloth from the basin on the nightstand, I gently wiped her brow. She didn’t even stir. I continued to stare down at her, unable to tear my gaze away from the way the moonlight accentuated the soft lines of her face. Dark lashes lined her closed lids, concealing the blue eyes that reminded me of a raging ocean.
She shifted to her side, tucking her hands between her face and the pillow. A lazy curl fell across her cheek, obstructing my view. I pushed it back behind her ear so I could continue admiring her flawless skin.
Even in sickness, she was beautiful. In fact, she may have been the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I didn’t know how this bewitching Italian princess could possibly connect to the violent destruction that Zeke and I had found at the Midtown.
“Who are you, Serena Martinelli?” I whispered.