86
ANSON
The door was heavy oak, solid. While the original antique key lock was still there, a modern shiny deadbolt had been drilled into the top corner to secure the door from the outside.
I reached up and twisted the thumb latch; the bolt retracted with a click.
When I reached back down to the knob, I realized my hand was shaking.
I turned the knob and pushed the door open on what first appeared to be an empty room, then a heavy lamp swung down from the right, struck my arm, and shattered on my plaster cast. I jumped back just in time to avoid Tegan, who came at me from the opposite side with what looked like a shower curtain rod.
A gasp came from the same direction as the lamp, and I found Kristina standing there, her hand over her mouth.
My name came out muffled from behind her fingers. “Anson!”
Tegan, who had nearly impaled me, froze and dropped the shower rod. She stared in disbelief. “What are you doing here?!”
Both were wearing black slinky dresses. Matching high-heeled shoes were scattered about the floor.
And that’s when I saw Libby.
She stepped out of the bathroom at the back of the room in a similar dress, although hers was red. Her hair had been blown dry and swept back from her face. Her makeup was expertly applied, no doubt by Tegan, who had an eye for that sort of thing.
When she saw me, her lips parted slightly, and I heard her whisper my name.
Then I was holding her. I had no memory of crossing the room.
I simply found her in my arms, me in hers, an embrace, then a kiss, and her lips were the sweetest thing I had ever tasted.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that.
Time no longer existed, no longer passed. There was nothing but us.
“Are you ready to go home?” I finally managed. She buried her head against my shoulder and nodded, although neither of us knew where home was, or what that really meant. I suppose it simply meant somewhere we were together.
“How did you find us?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you when we’re safe. Right now, we need to go.”
I reached the back of my neck, unfastened Libby’s locket, and held it out to her. Her face lit up. “I thought it was lost!”
She spun her back to me and pulled her hair aside. After I fastened the clasp, she turned back around and gave me another kiss. “I love you, Anson Bishop.”
Kristina wasted no time. Forgoing the black heels on the floor, she grabbed a pair of ratty tennis shoes from beside the bed and slipped them on. She tossed another pair to Tegan and a third to Libby, who then retrieved Tegan’s shower rod before returning to me at the door. “Lead the way.”
Back in the hallway, Kristina crossed over to room 806 and reached for the deadbolt at the top of the door. Tegan started toward the door to 805.
“Don’t,” I quickly told them both.
Kristina hesitated, but didn’t release the lock. “They’re holding people behind every one of these doors.”
I glanced back down the hallway where that Pavelko woman was watching us closely. “We can’t. Not right now. We’ll find some other way. You open one of those doors and we’re all dead.”
Libby’s face went pale when she spotted Pavelko at the end of the hall. “Shit, it’s Klara. He’s right. Don’t do it. Stop.”
“You know her?”
Libby nodded, and a shudder rolled down her body, but she said nothing else.
At the mention of the woman’s name, both girls stepped away from the doors. Tegan told me in a low whisper, “We can’t let her live.”
Anson . . .
Father again. Not Champ this time, but my name. He drew it out, this cautionary warning. I couldn’t remember the last time he called me by name. I squeezed Libby’s hand and told Tegan again, “We’ll find another way.”
Libby let out a soft sigh and squeezed my hand back. “I know you will.”
We made our way down the hall and returned to the elevators. Pavelko studied each of the girls, but eyed Kristina in particular when she said, “It appears knights have arrived to rescue you from the clutches of the evil queen.”
Kristina spat at her.
Thick spittle smacked against the woman’s cheek and dripped down. She made no effort to wipe it away until the woman behind the desk handed her a tissue. When she did wipe it away, she smiled. “I’ll remember that when they bring you back. And they will bring you back.”
“Fuck you, you demented cunt.”
She looked like she might lunge at her, but Tegan took her by the arm and held her back. “We’ll find another way,” she said softly, repeating my words. And somehow, hearing my words from her lips made whatever had taken place between Klara Pavelko and the girls as much my problem as theirs.
I expected Father to tell me it wasn’t, but he said no such thing.
Vincent’s eyes met Kristina’s, and words silently passed between them. The tension drained from her face at the sight of him. Then he motioned for all of us to get back in the elevator.
Paul had been watching Tegan, but she hadn’t so much as glanced at him.
Libby and me.
Kristina and Vincent.
Paul had carried feelings for Tegan from the first moment I met him, but she never showed the least bit of interest in him.
There was a longing behind his eyes, and it was painful to watch.
On some level, I think he hoped finding her, “rescuing her,” as Pavelko put it, would have somehow changed her feelings for him, but it had not.
Finally, Paul swallowed and turned toward the woman behind the desk. “What about her?”
Klara Pavelko was back in the elevator, her key back in the panel. “Gladys knows better than to sound the alarm. Don’t you, Gladys? You understand doing so means a lot of people would get hurt unnecessarily, and you have no interest in sparking that fire. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gladys retrieved her book and Diet Coke. “You were never here.”
The rest of us stepped into the elevator, and when Pavelko pressed the button for the lobby, the interior doors whisked closed.
All eyes went to the sweeping arrow above the door.
We all watched as it glided past seven, six, and kept dropping until it reached one.
Something felt wrong, though. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, not at first, then it hit me.
The car didn’t feel like it was going down; it felt like it was rising.
And the sweep of the arrow across the numbers felt wrong, too—it was moving too fast. Its motion didn’t fit the momentum of the elevator.
“Vincent, something’s—”
Wrong.
But I didn’t get to finish the sentence.
When the doors opened, we weren’t on the lobby floor. They opened on what looked like some kind of penthouse. And we weren’t alone—Hillburn, Carmichael, and half a dozen others were standing there, flanking the elevator, their guns trained on us.
Behind them was a man I didn’t recognize.
He stood at the center of the room wearing a suit that looked like it cost as much as a house.
His blond hair was slicked back, and he had an old scar across the otherwise smooth skin of his left cheek.
“Thank you, Klara,” he said with an accent that screamed New York. “I’ll take care of this from here.”
Hillburn stepped forward. “Set the weapons down on the floor of the elevator, and everyone step out slowly. Anyone makes a wrong move and we open fire.”
Father always told me every decision came with a choice. Every action led to a reaction. I played out every possible scenario in my head and saw no way out of this that didn’t include death. “Do as he says,” I said softly, setting my knife down at my feet.
Paul and Vincent lowered their rifles and placed them on the floor. Libby set the curtain rod down, then we all got out of the elevator. All but Klara Pavelko, who disappeared behind the elevator doors when they closed with that same soft rush of air.
“Which one is he?” the man in the suit asked.
Hillburn kept his gun on us. “The one with the cast on his arm, Mr. Tucker. That’s Anson Bishop.”
The man’s cold eyes drilled into me. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bishop.”