Page 161 of Seeking Vengeance

I don’t wait for the door to close behind him. I grab the device and dial Cole’s most recent burner number, hoping I’ve remembered the digits correctly. My heart beats a rampant staccato as the chirping rings in my ear. Once. Twice. Three times. Then the message service kicks in.

Shit.

“It’s me,” I start as soon as the beep sounds. “I’m in trouble… I need you to call me back.”

Fuck. What if this cell number isn’t visible?

“Hold on a sec.” I scramble for a brochure. A business card. Anything that might have the contact number of this hellhole.

Goddamnit. What’s the name of this place?

“I’ll have to call you back in a minute.Pleaseanswer when I do.” I keep clinging to the cell, keep wishing for some spark of brilliance to blindside me until I concede defeat. “Please, Cole. I need you.”

I disconnect the call and pace through the panic, my Chucks trekking over threadbare carpet.

I don’t know if I’ve waited five minutes or mere seconds when I redial, but the line connects straight away. “Cole?”

“Yes,” his response is gruff.

I close my eyes, the regret and gratitude hitting instantly. “I’m sorry.”

“What have you done?”

I want to laugh. To scoff. To arrogantly inform him of his misconception that I’m responsible for anything. Only I can’t.

“The guy I met… he wasn’t who he said he was.” I wait for a reply that doesn’t come. “I need help getting home, and I need it in a hurry. I’ve got no money. No cell. No ID. I’m stuck here.”

“Where?” he growls.

I drag in a long breath and square my shoulders. “Denver.”

“Give me two seconds.”

There’s a rustle over the line, then muffled words. I hear biting anger. Snapped responses. Then the rustling clears.

“The jet is being arranged. Tell me your exact location.”

“A hotel. Some seedy, rundown place on the outskirts of the city. I don’t think I’m far from the airport.” I maneuver around the reception desk and crouch to look beneath the counter. There are crumpled magazines, discarded rubbish, and a filthy bong.

“I need a name, Layla.”

“I’m trying. Hold on.” I open a drawer finding tissues, a half-used bottle of lube, and condoms. “Jesus Christ. I’m going to have to take a look outside.”

“Is that a problem? Tell me what’s going on.” The annoyed edge remains in his voice, but this time concern lingers. “You said you’re in trouble. Are you in danger?”

I wince, my stomach twisting in knots. “Yes.” I move out from behind the desk and stride for the door.

“Explain.Everything.”

“I don’t know how much time I have.” I pull the handle and poke my head outside, making sure there are no fancy cars or men in suits nearby. “This isn’t my phone.”

“Fucking tell me. I need to know who to bring with me.”

My stomach bottoms.

Normally he travels with his wife, Anissa. Unless there’s a threat. Then there’s Decker or Luca who can provide a show of muscle when necessary.

But there’s one man who accompanies him when blood needs to be spilled.

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