Page 71 of Mastered By Desire

I don’t understand. It’s a fire alarm, we need to get out of the hotel. Why are they grabbing me?

Mick’s loan sharks.

No fucking way am I going to be quiet. I scream until one of the guys covers my mouth. The sound is swallowed up by the alarm, anyway. It’s still going off, echoing in my brain.

I kick, frantic, and use my elbows against the guys holding me.

One of them nearly drops me, but the other guy tightens his hold. He squeezes my arms against my torso. It’s so tight I can’t move.

My muscles strain. My head is full of white, blind panic. I scream against the hand on my mouth.

Where is everyone? Probably outside, in front of the building, waiting for the all-clear from the fire department.

Several feet away, a door opens. Finally. Salvation. Someone is still left in the hotel. I can’t see who it is, but I’m grateful. They stayed back despite the fire alarm and they’re going to help me. At the very least, they’re a witness. They can report this to the authorities.

I scream and struggle more, but the guys holding me go toward the door.

Too late, I realize that getting me into this room was their goal all along.

20

Dmitri

It takes me a few minutes to realize why I’m bummed before I’m even fully awake.

That’s right. Leah left.

And I’m an idiot.

I know why I couldn’t admit feelings. But I didn’t have to act like a jealous asshole. I didn’t have to tell her who she could and couldn’t hang out with. Shitstain Mick was controlling and he took advantage of her. Do I want to be like Shitstain Mick?

No.

She shouldn’t be paying for a hotel when she can stay here. I’ll let her have the bed, even.

It’s already nine a.m. Late enough for a phone call. I go into the kitchen to start the coffee. As the machine growls to life, I dial Leah.

No answer. The call goes to voicemail. It rang, so I’m pretty sure she hasn’t blocked me.

I stare long and hard at my phone like it has answers it won’t give up.

A bad feeling forms in my gut.

Holding my breath, I text,Please let me know you’re okay. I’m getting worried.

Nothing.

Fuck. Something’s wrong. She’d never let me worry, not like this.

She could be in the shower. Or working. She has some tutoring on Saturdays, I think. Or she could’ve gone to Gage last night. Stayed over with him or something. The thought is a bitter one, but it’s a possibility.

Ten minutes. I’ll wait ten minutes and try calling and texting again.

Still no answer.

“Fuck it.”

I dial Gage’s work cell, hoping he’ll answer.

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