Page 95 of Red Retaliation
“You want me to go back to that party?” Arianna shrieks. “With you? After what you’ve just done?”
“You ain’t got any choice about it, sweetheart.” I drag her towards the lift, already hearing approaching sirens. “Liam, time to plant the note in Room Twelve. Put it in prime position on a coffee table or something.”
Arianna tugs my arm. “What note? Whose is Room Twelve?” She looks back over her shoulder at Room One.
“You ask too many questions.” I slap the “call lift” button as Liam disappears down the stairs to the floor below.
Fuck. If this lift doesn’t hurry up, it will be quicker to take the stairs ourselves.
“You killed a man in our room... Why did...”
“We haven’t got fucking time to deliberate,” I bark, punching the brass plaque containing the lift buttons. “I just need this bastard lift to hurry!”
“But...”
“Calm down! I’ll explain later,” I hiss, wondering how to quell her hysterics in the time it takes to travel one floor to the conference suite. Despite the excellent soundproofing hotels offer, I can hear the muffled commotion of sirens and people outside. It won’t be long before the place is up in arms. All three of us need to be back within the event before that happens.
Just at the point when I’m about to drag Arianna up however many flights of stairs there are to reach the fucking conference suite, I sigh with relief as the green light above the lift illuminates and the doors open with a “ding”.
“Finally!” Pulling Arianna into the lift, I slap the button for the uppermost floor. This lift better go up before it goes down.
Arianna yanks her hand from mine and stares at me wide-eyed, her breaths ragged.
“Look,” I say, frantically pushing the conference suite floor button again. “I didn’t want you to see that, but there’s a good reason for what happened.”
She says nothing, just stares; her horror and disappointment are impossible to ignore. I hate how uncomfortable it makes me feel.
No one makes me feel uncomfortable, butsheis succeeding.
As the lift door begins to slide closed, I can at least relax. Going up one floor won’t take long.
Well, Icouldrelax if, when there were all but a few inches left before the lift doors completely shut, Arianna didn’t squeeze through them.
“ARIANNA!” I smash my body into the lift doors. I prize my fingers between the two shiny gold halves, but mocking me, they remain tightly shut.
“Fuck!” I bellow, slapping the “open door” button to no avail.
And as the lift begins its treacherously slow ascent to the conference suite, I can do nothing but wait while my wife bolts away to God knows where.
CHAPTER
68
Arianna
ICAN BARELY DRAG enough air into my lungs to power my body. Looking behind me for the umpteenth time, I reach the bottom of the final staircase, my eyes flicking from left to right at the choice of the two doors in front of me. One of them leads outside, I hope.
It says “G” on the wall, so that’s street level, isn’t it?
Hearing the lift rumble somewhere above me. I’m unsure which way it’s heading and have no time to lose. I burst through the door on the right, my feet already blistering in these stilettos after the never-ending flights of stairs I’ve somehow got down without losing my footing. But I can’t stop now.
Pulling in a lungful of breath, I fight against hyperventilating or panicking. I need to get my breath back, but I have to act poised and can no longer run. Instead, I move quickly but calmly through the hotel reception, the automatic doors to the outside beckoning like an oasis.
I dare not look over my shoulder now to see if Red is behind me. My whole system is primed for his hand clamping down on my shoulder, stopping me from leaving this place; leaving him and frogmarching me back to his web of death and violence to act as his wife.
No more. Not now.
What I’ve just seen is the final straw. First, that business on the way back from Steve’s funeral, then the reporter, nowthis...
