Chapter Thirty
I step out of the elevator and into silence.
The hidden doors slide closed behind me with a soft mechanical whisper, sealing the alcove once again behind the emergency stairwell like nothing was ever there. No one walking these halls would ever know an elevator existed in this narrow pocket of space.
That’s exactly how my great-great-grandfather designed it.
A private passage through his hotel so he could have eyes everywhere.
Unseen.
I adjust the cuff of my shirt and glance down the fifth-floor corridor of the main inn. The lights are low—the faint sound of the Cottonwood Court below the only noise.
I make my way along the patterned carpet. The hallway stretches long and elegant in both directions, lined with dark walnut doors and brass numbers that gleam under the sconces.
There was another complaint last night.
A ridiculous account from the fifth floor.
Always the fifth floor.
Most guests are downstairs right now. Cocktails in the lounge. Dinner reservations.
Which means I can check the room without any curious onlookers.
I check my watch.
Eight o’clock. It’s been a long day.
I round the corner, and that’s when I hear it.
Giggles.
Soft.
Muffled.
Coming from the end of the hall.
Interesting.
According to our reservation software, no one is staying in this hall tonight.
I move quietly down the corridor, my shoes making almost no sound against the thick carpet. The laughter comes again—two voices, maybe more.
Females whispering.
I round the next corner just as the door to room 522 opens.
Three figures slip out.
Calliope. Mabree. And Harleigh.
They don’t notice me at first. They’re too busy whispering and laughing like conspirators who just pulled off some kind of heist.
Calliope has a mischievous glint in her eye.
Harleigh …
My gaze lingers on her longer than it probably should.
She’s dressed very differently than she was when I ran into her this afternoon.
Tonight, she’s wearing curve-hugging jeans and a fitted, long-sleeved shirt that clings softly to her shape.
Her long flaxen hair falls loose over her shoulders.
I glance down at my watch again.
What exactly are they doing in a guest room at this hour?
My curiosity sharpens. And so does my suspicion.
I take a few silent steps forward and clear my throat.
All three of them spin around.
Their laughter dies mid-breath.
Their eyes go wide.
Calliope freezes like a cat caught stealing food.
Harleigh looks like someone just turned a spotlight on her.
Moments like this are the best part of having the ability to sneak up on people like I appeared out of thin air.
It’s the number one perk of the hidden elevator.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at them.
No one ever knows where or how I’ll show up.
And the reactions are always priceless.
I slide my hands casually into my pockets.
“What are you three doing?”
My eyes drift deliberately from their startled faces to the closed door of room 522.
Then back again.
“Oh, nothing,” Harleigh says quickly. Her voice jumps half an octave. “We were just …” She trails off.
I lift one eyebrow. “Just …”
Calliope straightens immediately. “It was me.”
I glance at her.
She points a thumb toward herself with exaggerated confidence. “I had a guest tell me they were having a problem with the lights flickering in their room.”
Mabree’s cheeks flush pink beside her.
“So, I told Miss Storm,” Calliope finishes.
Harleigh presses her lips together, rolling them nervously.
I lean slightly against the wall. “Is that right?”
Harleigh nods quickly. “Yes. That’s right.” She gestures vaguely toward the door. “So, I asked her to show me which room it was and said I’d check it out.”
I study her face.
She’s a terrible liar.
Because I absolutely know they’re lying.
Which only makes this more interesting.
My gaze moves to Mabree. “And you?”
“Um, I brought them the key,” she says timidly.
My eyes go back to Calliope. “And why,” I ask slowly, “would you tell Miss Storm instead of maintenance?”
Calliope blinks. “Um …”
Her eyes flick sideways toward Harleigh.
Harleigh’s eyes widen momentarily.
“Because …” Calliope says slowly.
Another pause.
Harleigh nods at her. A slight movement of encouragement. Barely perceptible.
Calliope is drawing a blank.
“Because I was already getting on the elevator,” Harleigh declares for her.
Calliope nods firmly, like that explanation makes perfect sense.
“So, there was no need to get maintenance,” Harleigh continues.
I let the silence stretch.
Then my eyes drift down to her outfit.
Her eyes follow mine immediately.
“Oh … yeah,” she blurts. “I’m technically off for the day. But I forgot my purse in my office.” Her words come out fast now. “So, I came back to get it on my way to meet friends at The Soused Cow.” She gestures awkwardly at herself. “That’s why I’m in my casual clothes.”
The Soused Cow. The mere mention of the bar conjures images.
I tilt my head slightly. “Your office is on the first floor. Why were you using the elevator?”
Her mouth opens.
Closes.
Then opens again.
“I, uh …” She bites down on the corner of her mouth.
I watch the small nervous gesture with far more interest than I should.
“Um … it wasn’t in my office.” She points vaguely down the hall. “My purse, I mean.”
Another pause.
“And then I remembered I must have left it in the conference room after the hospitality team meeting.” Her voice speeds up as the story builds itself in real time. “So, I was running up to see if it was there.”
I fold my arms slowly.
Calliope nods enthusiastically beside her. “Yes. That’s right. That’s when I intercepted her.”
As if that seals the deal.
I glance down at my shoes, trying not to laugh at them. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Harleigh and Calliope say quickly.
Mabree just nods like a bobblehead.
Silence settles over the hallway.
“So?”
Harleigh blinks. “So?”
I nod toward the door. “The lights.”
Her shoulders visibly relax. “Oh.”
She waves casually toward the door. “They worked fine for me.”
Another quick smile.
“Anyway”—she claps her hands together once—“problem solved.”
Her eyes dart toward the elevator at the end of the hallway. “I’m just gonna head on down and go meet my friends.”
She turns quickly and starts walking.
The other two scurry after her.
I watch them go for two seconds.
Then I call after them, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
They stop.
Harleigh glances back over her shoulder. Her hair swings softly with the motion. “Forgetting something?”
I nod slightly. “Your purse.”
Her eyes widen again. “Oh, right. My purse.”
Another quick smile.
“Thank you. I’ll make sure to stop at the conference room.” Her voice is bright and cheerful in the way people get when they’re desperately trying not to look suspicious.
Mabree is staring at the floor like she’s trying to disappear into the carpet.
Harleigh lifts her chin slightly. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Garrison.”
I hold her gaze for a breath longer than necessary.
She’ll see me tonight.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Storm.”
She nods quickly and turns again.
I watch them go.
Harleigh’s hips sway naturally with her stride.
Those jeans should be illegal.
The elevator doors slide open.
They step inside.
Just before the doors close, Calliope’s head pops out and glances back at me.
Her expression is half guilty.
Half delighted.
Like she just got away with something.
Then she waves, and the doors slide shut.
The hallway goes quiet again.
I look back at the door to room 522. That fucking room. I should have the thing sealed and painted over like it never existed.
I turn on my heel and head back to the emergency stairwell, pulling my elevator key from my pocket.