Page 103 of A Twisted Arrangement

She complies, but there’s no answer. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

Every muscle in my back tightens as I try to keep my shit together. This woman is officially keeping me apart from mywife, and it’s pissing me off. “She’s not feeling well. I have to check on her.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.” She glances behind me, and I catch the security guard starting to approach.

Fuck this. I reach over and twist her screen toward me. A quick glance tells her room number is 402.

The security guard approaches me with caution. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I turn on him. He’s an older gentleman, hair graying at his temples. I’m at least five inches taller and weigh a good fifty pounds more. Unless this guy has a Taser on him, he doesn’t stand a chance.

My fingers squeeze his shoulder tight enough to hurt. “You have two options. I can either knock you out here and take your key from you. Or you can come with me and check on her too. Choice is yours.”

He searches my face and seems to relax. “You’re really worried about her, aren’t you? Alright, let’s go.”

My breath whooshes out as we head to the elevator. I’m going to move this guy over to my hotel and double his salary. Fuck, maybe I’ll give him enough that he can retire.

The floor numbers illuminate the closer we get to her. The door hits my shoulder as I squeeze through before they’re fully open. The guards close behind me, the universal key card already ready when we get to her room.

I knock. “Scarlet. Scarlet! Answer the door.”

There’s no response. If she can’t answer the phone, she won’t be able to answer the door… My stomach rolls. Why can’t she answer her phone?

The security guard opens the door, and my heart stops when I step inside.

The familiar sharp tang of blood fills my nose. My gut twists as I round the island, spotting Oliver laid out on the ground, hisneck split open in a jagged cut. Acid climbs the back of my throat as I turn, searching for Scarlet.

There’s a gasp from behind me, but I don’t have time to check on the security guard. Not when my girl could be bleeding out or d—I cut off the thought and search the space. It doesn’t take long to see she’s not here. The idea is almost worse than if she was because it means someone took her.

I pull up the tracker app on my phone and see she’s on the move.

“What the hell happened here.” The guard’s eyes are blown wide, his face pale as he holds himself up against the counter.

I don’t have time to feel bad for him. “Someone will be here in a few minutes. I have to go. Just try to breathe.”

I’m out of the room and pushing through the exit, not wanting to wait for the elevator. The handrail is wet beneath my fingers, soaked with crimson blood. I’m taking the stairs so fast my lungs burn with the lack of air, but I can’t waste time. My girl’s somewhere out there, and she needs me.

The stairs lead to a back street. Light catches on something on the ground, and my heart’s like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. I lean over and pick up the necklace Scarlet was wearing earlier.

I hate the fact that this is how they took her, no doubt shoving her into a vehicle. They are going to fucking pay for this.

I round the front of the building and spot my car. Thank God I paid the valet off.

“Keys, now,” I snap, and the valet tosses them to me.

I’m in the car and have it started and rushing down the street without taking a second to catch a breath. The little dot denoting Scarlet’s location has stopped ten minutes away.I’m coming, Scarlet. Just hang in there.

Fear crackles through the shell of rage I’ve built around me, threatening to take me under. Those cornflower-blue eyesmeeting mine all those years ago flash in my mind, and acid burns up my throat.

She protected me then; like fuck I’m going to let her down now.

Switching tactics, I call the only people I trust.

“What’s up?” Damon answers, his voice light. He must be with Misty. She’s the only one who can make him that way. He must still be at the event that kept me away tonight.

“Scarlet’s missing.” The words are hard to push out, cracking around the syllables. It feels wrong to say it to the universe, admitting it’s true.

“What the hell do you mean she’s missing?” he says sharply, his voice frigid.

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