Page 108 of Beautiful Deception

She looks afraid now.

“Fine. I’ll write it down.” She quickly walks away and comes back with a piece of paper. “Here’s the address. What are you going to do with it? Hurt Inessa, I hope?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” If Inessa is keeping a secret, then exposing it should hurt her. It will hurt Viktor too and that’s part of the fun. I’m a sick bastard, what can I say?

I give Natasha a wink before leaving. The motel is about thirty minutes away. It really is in a cheap, disgusting part of town. Why would Inessa come here?

The man behind the front desk in the shitty, smelly little front office barely glances in my direction. “Rooms are forty a night.”

“I’m looking for someone, actually. A girl comes here. Pays for a room? I need to know what room she paid for.”

“Sorry. Can’t give out that information.”

I look around the moldy office. “I’m shocked a man who works at this establishment would worry about keeping his customer’s confidentiality.”

“It’s because I keep people’s confidentiality that people come here.”

I slide over a hundred bucks. “The girl has light blonde hair. Looks more like a fairy than a human sometimes. She pays for a room but she doesn’t stay here herself. Name is Inessa Roberts. What room does she pay for?”

He eyes the hundred bucks over. “I’ll need more than that.”

With a sigh, I hand over another hundred dollar bill. “Tell me.”

“I’m still going to need a little bit more.”

This fucker. I grab his shirt and haul him across the desk. He whimpers as I shove my face right into his.

“Just fucking tell me.”

He gulps. “Ok. Uh… There’s no one by the name Inessa Roberts here. But I know what woman you’re talking about. She pays for a room under the name Gleb Petrov. I think it’s her father.”

“What room?”

“Uh, ten. Room ten.”

“Thanks for doing business with me.” I shove him back. “Now give me the key to room ten.”

“Are you going to murder someone?”

“No. I’m just going to talk to someone. Now give me the fucking key.”

He quickly hands it over with trembling fingers. I snatch the key and head to the room.

It unlocks easily and then I’m standing in the room Inessa has been paying for without staying in for weeks.

A man is lying on the bed, drinking a beer. He scrambles to his feet when he sees me.

“You’re not Inessa,” he says.

“And you’re not Inessa either.” I look this man over. I’ve never met him before but he does look vaguely familiar.

Then it hits me: the same hotel I saw Inessa at a year ago. This man was there with her.

“Who are you?” I bark.

He flinches, holding his hands up. “Don’t hurt me. I can pay the money. I swear it.”

“I’m not here about money. Who are you? What’s your name?”

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