6. Scarlet
SCARLET
Anoise ripped me from my thin slumber. My heart was in my throat, pounding like a bass drum in my head.
Panic gripped me when I looked around at my unfamiliar surroundings—cheap wood paneling, a generic print hanging on the wall opposite the foot of the bed, above a desk made of chipped particleboard.
The curtains on the window to my right were pulled over it so only the tiniest beam of light flowed through.
In the dim glow, I could barely make out the presence of my suitcases lined up beneath it.
Motel. I was at the motel I found yesterday, where I had checked in and locked the door before I spent the rest of the day peering outside from behind the curtain, staring at the parking lot, waiting. For what? I wasn’t sure exactly. I only knew there could be danger, trouble, and pain.
“You think you can get away from me? You belong to me.” A shiver ran through my prone body as I thought about what he had said, making me pull the thin blankets up around my chin.
The bed wasn’t exactly comfortable, and the pillows were flat and a little lumpy, but this was the only comfort I had at the moment, so I tried my best to soak it in.
Where could I go?
What was I supposed to do?
I didn’t have enough money to immediately get very far away.
Maybe I could cross the border into California, lose myself there, but what would I do next?
I had to be realistic. What kind of job could I find?
The cost of living in California was pretty expensive too.
Maybe I could drive up to Idaho or over to Colorado.
But again, where was the work? It was a nice fantasy, imagining driving from town to town, looking for a job, asking around to see whether there were cheap places to live, but what were the odds I would find something before my savings ran out?
So, what next? Getting away. That was all that mattered.
I had to get far away, so far that he would never find me.
Him or his errand boy, Grayson Daniels—most likely a fake name.
It was no big surprise when I googled him and found nothing but a few random people who didn’t match his description.
Probably somebody who worked for Dominic, somebody I had never met before and wouldn’t be scared of on sight.
Still, I should have known as soon as he beat that man so brutally. That level of violence was delivered so efficiently. It took a certain kind of man to do that. The kind of men Dominic worked with, trusted, knew best. God, it’s all so clear now. So obvious.
A soft footstep outside my room made my heart freeze as I remembered why I woke up. The noise outside. Somebody was out there.
Immediately, my mind went through my options.
It didn’t take long since there weren’t any.
My only chance of getting out of here would be to shimmy through the tiny bathroom window, partly visible from where I lay on the bed.
I wasn’t exactly a big girl, but I doubted I could fit through without making a hell of a lot of noise that would probably alert whoever was on the other side of the door to exactly what I was trying to do.
So then what?
Lie here and wait?
Act like some passive victim?
“Look at you. You think you can stand up to me? Do you think you’re strong enough?” Dominic’s voice was in my head, barely audible over the rapid thudding of my heartbeat.
I couldn’t move. I wanted to get up and throw the door open, but I couldn’t move. It was like being in a nightmare. Only I was very much awake in this room where hundreds, if not thousands, of people had slept. Were any of them as terrified as I was?
Another noise, louder this time. The doorknob slowly turned. I pressed my lips tightly together to hold back a whimper.
Haven’t I done enough of that? It was a strange thought to go through my head at this exact moment, or maybe not so strange. I had whimpered, I had wept, I had curled in a ball with my arms crossed over my head. I was so tired of it—weary, sad, and ashamed of myself for cowering yet again.
In one quick, decisive motion, I threw the blankets back and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Fuck this. If Dominic came for me, I was going to go down swinging. It was either that or live the rest of my life this way, running, terrified, afraid to even use my own name and hair color.
It took all of three strides to cross the room, where I slid the chain off the door and flipped the deadbolt before flinging it open. Brilliant sunshine hit me in the face, making me wince and turn my head to the side for a second before I could bring the man in front of me into focus.
“Sorry if I woke you.” Grayson Daniels, or so he said. I was still holding onto the doorframe, and now I used it to support myself when my knees threatened to give out. Well? Who else would it have been? No doubt Dominic sent him to do his dirty work because he didn’t feel like doing it himself.
I noticed the way he was looking at me and realized I wasn’t wearing anything but a thin tank top and shorts that barely covered my ass.
Strange, my wardrobe being my biggest problem at the moment like this.
For some reason, it was crucial that I fly back to the bed and grab one of the pillows, holding it in front of me like a shield.
He entered the room without asking, but there was nothing menacing about it. It was more like he strolled, his head moving as he took in his surroundings before closing the door and plunging us into near darkness. It didn’t do good things for my pulse, which had never raced faster in all my life.
“This is where you decided to go,” he mused. “What happened? You get tired of driving after packing up your things?”
Is this a joke to him? Sure, and he could afford to think that way.
My ruined life, one big joke. “Enough. Just stop,” I barked, gratified at the way his head snapped back.
What, he didn’t expect me to fight? “Stop screwing with me. Do what you came here to do, goddammit. Get it over with.” Because at the end of the day, what choice did I have?
If he were going to kill me, I couldn’t possibly fight back.
I wouldn’t have tried even if I hadn’t seen him beat up that big, burly man who found it so easy to leave me defenseless.
Death has to be better than living in fear.
His hands hung at his sides, clenching and unclenching in a slow rhythm. “Exactly what do you think I’m here to do?” he asked, his voice smooth.
“To kill me,” I replied before my voice caught. Swallowing, I croaked, “Why else would you have followed me out here?”
A few silent moments passed between us. There wasn’t a sound except my breathing and the television playing in the room next door.
Grayson gestured toward the bed with one hand before hooking a finger around one of the faded curtains to pull it aside far enough that he could look out.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he murmured in his impossibly deep voice.
“You’re going to have a seat on the bed, and you’re going to answer some questions for me.
I came all this way. I think I deserve a few answers. ”
“You don’t deserve shit.”
“Tell that to the guy in the hospital after I smashed his face to pieces.” Slowly, he turned his head far enough that the beam of light flowing into the room illuminated his dark eyes. “I’m calling in a favor here. Tell me what I need to know.”
“And if I say no?”
Lifting a shoulder, he replied, “Then I’m not going to have any choice but to tell the person who hired me to find you that I did, in fact, find you.”
It was one thing to suspect it and another thing to hear it coming straight from him. Obviously, there was only one thing this could be about. Only one person in my life who would go to this kind of trouble.
“If someone hired you…” I replied, thinking fast, “… you already know.”
“Not necessarily. But you’re going to change that because you’re going to tell me. Why are you here?” He formed each word slowly, deliberately. “Why did you run away?”
The fucking nerve. Rage swelled in my chest, filling my mouth until the words poured out. “I don’t have to tell you anything. You accepted money from someone to hunt me like an animal. Why would I tell you shit?”
“Because I’m asking nicely.”
It was disbelief that made me snort, along with surprise. “Yeah, forgive me if that doesn’t do it.”
“It had better,” he replied, making my mouth go dry when he folded his arms. Big arms. Bulging. God, he’s huge. Dangerous. “Believe me, there’s a lot riding on this. I need to know. I need to hear it from you so I’ll know for sure and can make a decision about what to do next.”
“You’re going to make a decision about what to do with the rest of my life?”
He tipped his head to the side. “Something like that.”
Should I? What difference would it make, after all? It wouldn’t change anything. Maybe I could even appeal to him somehow. He might have a conscience.
He was probably a hired killer, and there I was, trying to humanize him.
“Dominic Garibaldi.” Speaking the name made me feel dirty. Maybe I would get into the shower fully clothed and turn the water on as hot as it would go. “That’s who hired you, right? I ran away from his house one day when he went out of town without me, and now he’s looking for me.”
His impressive chest rose and fell in one deep breath after another. Pursing his lips, he blew out an exasperated sigh, then tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “And why is that?” he asked, his voice softer.
“No. Not yet.” I shook my head firmly. “First, you tell me what he told you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. This is my fucking life,” I spat, jumping to my feet while gripping the pillow tight because I couldn’t grip his damn throat. What was it with men thinking their word was law? I was sick to death of it. “Tell me. What was his excuse?”