Nothing to No One (Nothing to… #10)

ONE

THE SPEECH WAS GOOD. What of it she’d heard anyway. Bambi Bennett was not a Hollywood darling. Not even close. She wasn’t in with the cool kids or on the A-list. There wasn’t a list for lackeys only backstage to service those with famous faces.

From their tables front of house, her role was to escort the shiny people, celebrities, backstage. Some were presenting awards, some just doing intros, others gave speeches.

The Lighting Darkness Awards were bestowed on regular civilians generous enough to give back to their communities, whether that was time, money, or fundraising. Having a big heart was the only condition. Being in LA, it just so happened that the event was sponsored by most of the big studios. Charity was great PR and a tax write-off… too cynical?

LA was pretty… sort of. Not like Wishbone, Washington, her tiny hometown. Small town life wasn’t so bad… when she was eight. Took her another seventeen years to get out of there, but didn’t results matter more than the process?

Spreading her wings, building a new life, started somewhere. For her? Lighting Darkness was it. Well, the Brooker Agency, her employer, sent her wherever she was needed. That night, it happened to be there.

After the celebs did their bit on stage, she and three other chaperones worked in rotation to escort them wherever they were going next. Chaperones weren’t allowed on stage. No, only glamorous models in glittering dresses were allowed to stand under the lights.

Working for Brooker paid the bills. Lighting Darkness? The charity was aspirational. She hadn’t quite got the knack of the LA way yet. No one cut anyone else a break. Her wary colleagues weren’t the most welcoming bunch. Odd maybe in their line of work, but this was LA. LA. LA. The city’s name was often taken in vain, to cover a multitude of sins.

Her boss, Renata, came rushing over, earpiece still firmly in place. The woman had been running around ragged all night, snapping at everyone.

“Bambi, when Mr. Lowe comes off stage, he wants to exit.”

“Exit?”

So far everyone went one of three places: back to their table, the private green room, or to a reserved hotel room. No more needed to be asked about that. Someone else was setting up the rooms as requested. Not her department. Nope, sirree. That honor was granted to more senior employees. Given the conversations she’d overheard, they were welcome to it.

“The building, Bambi, the building,” Renata said. “He has to go out the back. The rear exit… you know, the one we use for discreet departures?”

Wide-eyed, she said nothing, waiting for her boss to catch on to her na?veté. Stood to reason there would be swift, secret departures, but she couldn’t learn the process by osmosis. This was the only time she’d ever been in a Grand Hotel.

“Where exactly is that?” Bambi asked. “The rear exit?”

“Basement two, east to the end, third left. Through the storeroom and out.”

Repeating the instructions in her head, her mouth moved in time with the words. “Okay, I can—”

“It’s a regular red door,” her impatient boss said. “Roman knows where it is.”

Good, some reprieve. If Roman Lowe knew where it was, she could just sort of be there. Maybe he wouldn’t notice leading.

“Okay.”

Renata didn’t look too impressed. “Don’t forget his gift bag,” she said, lunging to grab one of the male bags from the side table to thrust it into Bambi’s hands. “And smile, for God’s sake, Bambi. You won’t get far in this town if you don’t start working what you’ve got.”

Her boss flipped around and flounced away. Work what exactly? What did she have? As a woman, she knew how to flirt and seduce. She did okay. Men weren’t a complete mystery. But in California, “ working what you’ve got ” was something on a whole new level… that usually involved a surgeon.

Just seconds later, applause rose in the ballroom. Those in the shadows jumped to attention. A sleek, sexy model strutted past the stage curtain, her arm hooked around that of Roman Lowe’s.

On a deep breath, Bambi went to join them. “Mr. Lowe, if you’d like to follow me,” she said, the same as she had to every other person she’d escorted that evening.

Except this time the model stopped short, forcing Lowe to as well. Adjusting her hold on his arm, the model pulled him down to whisper in his ear before pressing her glossed lips to his cheek.

Oh, uh, awkward much. Intruding on a clearly private moment, she lowered her chin. Privacy was an illusion. There were twenty or thirty other people around, getting on with their jobs. Unfortunately, at that moment, hers was to stand there, waiting, pretending she couldn’t see the intimate exchange.

The model eventually relented the kiss and her hold, presumably to go introduce herself to the next assigned shiny person.

Bambi straightened up and widened her smile. “Mr. Lowe?”

Though he didn’t focus on her, he did start moving her way. Good. A man on a mission knew where he was going. She whirled around to hurry after him as he strode past her and the corridor with the dressing rooms to go down the few stairs to the elevator lobby. Not a fancy one, or meant to be public-facing, it was an employee elevator, in the blah innards of the hotel. So much went on behind the scenes. Oblivious guests only saw the frosting, not the cake beneath. True in many walks of life.

The elevator came as soon as he pressed the button.

They stepped inside. Being nearest the options, she pressed B2. That meant basement two, right? This was the first time she’d gone down as opposed to up.

As the elevator moved, she felt it. It? What? No idea. A dense, heavy weight in the air swirled with a sense of expectation that didn’t anticipate words. Something new. Brand new. A mass in the pit of her stomach, thick and wanting, alive and yearning. Something was going on beneath her skin.

When the elevator came to a lumbering halt, she was none the wiser. The doors took a second to open. When they did, the aura burst, and she almost punched the air.

Okay. One step closer to completing her task. A sign opposite indicated which way was east and which was west.

Confident, like she’d known the whole time, she strode out. About halfway down the long corridor, she had a crisis. Left or right… two turns or three? Maybe it was four. What did Renata say?

Slowing down, she got more in line with Lowe. Walking behind him would be too obvious, she was supposed to be his escort. Oh, God, was this going to be bad? She really didn’t want to get reamed out. What would failing mean for her new job?

If he was leaving and knew the way, why did he even need her? Maybe he was the entourage type, some people needed those, no matter how small. It wasn’t an affliction confined to celebrities either. If it was protection he wanted, he’d picked wrong. She sure wouldn’t be good as a security agent. Especially next to the capable actor. Roman Lowe was an action star in an upcoming spy thriller TV show. According to his pamphlet anyway.

Even through the tux she could tell he was ripped. His muscles were obvious in the breadth of his shoulders. His height, somewhere around six four, didn’t diminish his physique, it only made him more imposing.

At the end of the corridor, she was forced to make a choice. Right. He’d correct her if she went the wrong way, wouldn’t he? His silence, and that he stayed at her side, spurred her on.

Right and right again.

The lights dimmed and she slowed. Why did that happen? Suddenly, isolation got cold. They were far, far away from the crowds and guests. The corridor was bare, the pale-yellow walls and gray floor were almost sickly in their pallor. They hadn’t seen another soul since stepping off the elevator.

“Is there a problem?” Roman asked, reminding her it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand there squinting at nothing.

“No,” she said. The lights faded up again, and bam, the red door near the end of the corridor ignited her triumph. “Right up here.”

The weather outside was awful. Could that cause a power issue? The weatherman forecast thunderstorms. Last minute, Renata panicked some guests may not show, and they’d scrambled to erect a canopy over the red carpet. With the wind the way it was, the thing was probably two states over by now.

She needed to get back upstairs asap. Renata might need her. And, yeah, okay, so it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get away from the labyrinth of corridors in the spooky bowels of the hotel.

On opening the red door, she expected to be outside. They weren’t. Hadn’t Renata said something about a storeroom? Yes, storeroom and out.

Out.

Roman didn’t enter her mind until she heard the red door close. In that same second, the lights went out. They didn’t fade. Didn’t dim. In an instant, they were consumed in black ink.

She froze.

All she could hear was her own breathing. Nothing else. In. Out. Short. Faster. Calm. This was bad. So bad. She didn’t hear Roman’s breathing or know he was approaching until he touched her shoulder. At least she assumed it was him.

“Are you okay?”

Startled by the deep, masculine voice at her side, her hand rose on instinct. Not that she noticed until it spread on soft fabric. His tux. Her palm was pressed to his abdomen. Touching a stranger was beyond inappropriate, but all her concentration was on breathing, she couldn’t think about being polite.

“Say something.”

That voice again. Her lips managed to move, actually making sounds was beyond her throat’s capability. His fingers curled, gripping her shoulder tighter. The signals to his muscles seemed connected to her too. Hers did the same, scrunching the fabric still beneath her palm.

A flash of light. Quick and red, it disappeared then came back, bathing the room in a dull scarlet glow.

“Say something,” he said again, his free hand directed her jaw up until their eyes met.

“What happened?”

His shoulders dropped, releasing some of their tension. When his hand descended from her shoulder, he interlinked their fingers, removing hers from his jacket.

“You’re okay,” he said. “Are you okay? Do you suffer from anxiety? Panic attacks? Asthma? Do you need medication?”

Roman Lowe was thorough. What a great start to their association that her behavior should scream “drug me” to reach the bar of normality.

Focusing her thoughts wasn’t easy. Especially with that… was that his cologne she could smell?

“Uh, no, I… I’m just freaked… Maybe I do.”

“You’re doing great.”

Adjusting to the new hue, she scanned the room. Maybe ten by fifteen feet. Open door to the right, near a bunch of stacked mattresses. A huge, folded table stood by the wall next to them with some boxes in front.

That was as far as her observation went before Lowe went to the closed door they’d been heading for, the one that should get them outside. He tried the handle, but the door didn’t open.

“It’s locked?” she asked, watching him stride back across the room to the door they’d entered by.

That one was unlocked; they’d just come through it. No reason it shouldn’t—the door didn’t budge when he rattled the handle.

No. No. No! Alarm shot through her.

“Both are locked,” he muttered, scanning the room.

The open door, the one in the corner.

“What’s in there?” she asked because his angle gave him a better view.

“Bathroom.”

Oh. A bathroom. Great. So they would get out of there… how exactly?

A storage room. Would this be her tomb? How often did anyone check it? Boxes. More boxes. Decorations. No sign of another way out. Small vents at the top of the far wall were only four inches tall.

Lowe, rescuer extraordinaire! Yes! She’d never been so elated to see someone holding a cellphone.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, rushing a few steps toward him.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said, raising the phone higher. “No signal down here.”

Fuzz! Being two floors beneath ground level came with limitations, apparently.

Her brow creased. “If we’re underground, how were you supposed to exit?”

“There’s a service ramp to the private parking area on the first basement level.” Still going around the room with his phone, he wasn’t giving up though did glance her way. “You didn’t know that?”

Being his escort, he could be forgiven his surprise. His signal searching kept him occupied, so she chose a little redirect.

“I’m sure, whatever this is…” she said. “It’s just a temporary glitch.”

He exhaled and dropped his arm, abandoning his search. “The power’s out in the whole building.”

Surprised, she blinked. “How do you know that?”

He pointed upward. “Listen.”