Chapter 1 #3
She held her breath, willing the door to close before they could reach her.
The man she’d stabbed straightened and shook his head as if to clear the fog.
The door slid slowly in front of her as the man lunged forward.
He was a yard away when the door closed completely. A loud thud sounded on the other side, but the door remained closed. The elevator started down the thirty-eight floors toward the lobby.
As the floors ticked by, Savvie slid her knife into the sheath strapped to her leg.
Using the hem of her gown, she did her best to wipe the blood from her face.
Thankfully, the elevator car was lined with mirrors.
She’d only managed to wipe her forehead and cheeks clean before the car slowed to a stop.
She quickly straightened her clothes and hair and reached for the cell phone she’d tucked into her bra. It wasn’t there.
“Damn.” She must have lost it while fighting the two men.
The car stopped on the sixth floor.
Savvie braced her legs, ready to come out fighting.
The door opened, and a young couple stepped in dressed for a night out.
The woman gaped at Savvie in horror. “Oh, my God. You have blood all over your chin and chest. Are you all right?”
Savvie gave the woman a weak smile. “It’s okay. It’s just a nosebleed.”
Before the elevator door closed, Savvie stuck out her hand and stopped its sideways slide. “Sorry, I forgot. This is my floor.” She walked out into the hallway and turned toward the stairs.
If Caldwell had men waiting near the penthouse to move their captive, he probably had men in other places around the hotel. The guys she’d left bleeding in the penthouse would have contacted them as soon as the elevator door closed.
She descended the stairs down to the mezzanine level where the conference rooms were located. She slipped into a bathroom and quickly scrubbed the remaining blood from her face, neck and chest. Without wasting too much time, she stepped back out into the hallway.
Tucked near the back of the row of conference rooms were a service elevator and another set of stairs that led to the loading dock.
Savvie hurried down the dimly lit staircase and pushed open the door leading out onto the back of the loading dock. A man wearing a shirt with the hotel logo embroidered over the pocket stood inside an office area with glass windows, looking out at the dock, an electronic tablet in his hand.
A refrigerator truck was backing up to the loading area. The dock worker stepped out of the office and crossed to the truck.
After the driver parked, he got out, climbed the steps to the dock and opened the door to the trailer.
The two men stepped into the truck.
While their backs were turned, Savvie slipped out of her heels and left the stairwell. She walked to the far end of the dock and descended the stairs, slipping silently into the shadows.
Walking quickly, she ducked between hedges and emerged on the road behind the hotel. Staying as much in the shadows as she could, she put distance between herself and the Setai Hotel.
Sirens sounded behind her, moving closer. By now, Caldwell’s death would have been reported. The police would block roads into and out of the area surrounding the hotel. Caldwell’s men would report that a bleach-blonde wearing a long black dress had killed their boss.
Savvie ducked into a nightclub and headed for the bar, weaving between people standing, dancing and drinking. The place was packed, and the music was so loud it pounded against her eardrums.
When the band started a different song, a group of young women squealed, and all jumped up at once from a table in front of Savvie, heading for the dancefloor.
One of the girls stopped, stripped out of a long blazer, tossed it onto her chair and then raced to catch up with her friends. The jacket slid off the chair onto the floor. As more people surged toward the dancefloor, Savvie scooped up the jacket and carried it into the ladies’ room.
She had to wait in line for a stall. When it finally came to her turn, she stepped inside, closed the door and quickly stripped out of the black dress and the blond wig.
When she slid her arms into the blazer, it barely covered her breasts and had only one button.
She secured the button beneath her breasts, leaving her lacy black bra partially exposed and her ass mostly covered.
The resulting outfit was borderline skanky. No, it was full-on skanky. But she didn’t have much choice, and it was Miami. She’d fit right in.
After removing the pins from her hair, she finger-combed the long strands down around her shoulders and used toilet paper to scrub off some of her eyeshadow.
She dropped her sheathed knife into the blazer pocket. Once she’d rolled the wig into the dress, she shoved the bundle into the container used to dispose of sanitary napkins.
A knock sounded on the stall door. “Can you hurry up in there? I gotta pee,” a female voice cried.
Savvie pushed open the door. “It’s all yours.”
The woman pushed past her, ripping the zipper down on her jeans.
Savvie washed her hands and left the bathroom. Pushing her way through the crowd, she left the bar, skirting the dancefloor and the girl whose jacket she’d taken.
Once outside, she walked behind a small clump of guys and girls as if she was one of their group. When they ducked into a bar, Savvie kept walking north until she reached the Yucca Hotel.
Once there, she dug behind several bushes lining the building until she found the backpack she’d stashed there the day before.
She slung it over her shoulder and kept moving until she found a quiet corner of an older hotel and dropped down in the shadows.
Once settled, she kicked off her heels. The backpack contained jeans, running shoes, a T-shirt, two burner phones, cash, a Texas driver’s license and a passport with her picture.
Savvie Sanders. She’d chosen her new identity using the nickname her friends had called her growing up in Georgia. As far as she was concerned, Savannah Johnson no longer existed.
She needed to get as far away from Miami as possible.
Her last assignment as an assassin had gone to shit. She should have known Caldwell wouldn’t be alone for long.
And she shouldn’t have left witnesses.
She wasn’t as concerned about the law catching up with her as she was about the Caldwell family or Marcus’s partners. Her handler would make sure any evidence or surveillance videos was lost or destroyed.
The Caldwells didn’t forgive or forget as easily. When they encountered opposition, that opposition tended to disappear or ended up in a morgue due to a hit-and-run accident or sudden house fire.
How far was far enough?
Texas? Utah?
No. Her lips quirked up on the corners. Montana ought to be far enough.
She fired up the burner phone and dialed her handler. “It’s done. Need some cleanup.”
“What kind of cleanup?” a deep voice asked on the other end of the call.
“Two of his guys saw me.”
“It’s not like you to be so sloppy,” the voice criticized.
“Yeah? So, sue me.” She paused for a second. “Oh, and consider this my two weeks’ notice. Make that two-minute notice. I quit.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” the male voice on the other end of the call said.
“It’s gonna have to. Don’t call me. I’m done doing the big G’s dirty work.”
She ended the call and turned off the phone, her gut churning. Her handler made it sound like he wouldn’t release her without a fight.
Since her training, she’d been more or less on her own, never coming face-to-face with the people in charge. She’d received her orders via packets she picked up at specific drop locations.
Using the second burner phone, she dialed the only person she trusted to help her disappear.
The call went straight to voicemail.
Damn.
Savvie frowned and ended the call. Instead of leaving a message, she left a text. If her friend could find a way to come through for her, she’d have to hang tight for a few hours, maybe longer. Any longer, and she’d get herself out.