Page 56 of Deadly Target
Why was Walsh calling her? A premonition of chills ran over her skin. “Yes.”Sort of.“What’s happened? What can I help you with?”
“I’m at the Wyndham Hotel. Do you know where it is?”
The fancy place that catered to the rich and famous? The extravagant parties held there were famous in their own right, much less the clientele who rented entire floors.
“I’m familiar with the place.”
“Can you meet me there?”
She checked the clock on the dash. The storm had cleared people from the rocky beach, and rush hour was long over. “It’ll be ten minutes or so. What’s going on?”
“I need you here as quickly as possible. I’ve got a situation, and need your backup.”
“A situation? Can you give me more details?”
Before he could answer, she heard yelling and a gunshot. “Just get here as fast as you—”
The connection went dead.
* * *
Victor encounteredno trouble getting past the front desk, one of the women on duty giving him a bright smile. “Ms. Tyson is expecting you.”
She directed him to the slick, glass elevators and put her key in the penthouse slot, turning it and hitting the button. The doors closed, and as the elevator rose, he watched the large entryway disappear. Once on the top floor, the quiet was only disrupted by the sound of the TV coming from Tracee’s apartment.
Leon, the bodyguard, came to full attention when the elevator doors opened. Leon had been with Tracee for many years, going back to when Victor had been living with her. They exchanged normal pleasantries before the door swung open and Tracee stood there, eyes red, cheeks swollen. She waved him inside.
The marble tile, and the chrome and glass finishes, were the same. There were several new framed movie posters on the walls, and Tracee’s previous obsession with Asian design had been replaced with something more akin to the Greek Isles. Even the fake bamboo in the corner had been changed to a palm tree.
Her hair needed to be brushed and her fingers shook as she swept her bangs out of the way. “You’re here,” she said. “Finally.”
That had been the end of normal. He didn’t even make it to the couch when she burst out crying and ran out of the room.
“Tracee?”
A man dressed in black with a ski mask on pulled her back into the room, one arm around her neck and a gun pointed at her temple.
“What are you doing?” Tracee was near panic. “This wasn’t part of the deal!”
Victor’s hand went to his holster. Deal? Was this the stalker?
“Eh, eh, eh,” Ski Mask said. “I don’t want to kill her, but I will. Lose your weapon—easy does it—and kick it across the floor to me.”
The dead look in his eyes told Victor he had no qualms about killing Tracee, and probably would regardless of Victor’s response.
Hostage situations were the worst. “Take it easy.” Removing his gun slowly from its holster, Victor held it up by the grip and let it dangle as he lowered it to the floor and kicked it to the masked man. “What do you want?”
Tracee whimpered, Ski Mask forcing her forward so he could kick the gun away. “I finally get to meet the man in person, the one I’ve heard so much about. Tracee tells me you’re a real good guy.”
“I’m so sorry, Vic.” Tracee’s eyes pleaded with him, but was she begging for forgiveness for something else? “I had to do it.”
What exactly wasit?
A dozen different scenarios played out in Victor’s mind as he tried to figure out what he’d walked into. “How did you get in here?” he asked the man. “You must work for the hotel or security agency to have access to this penthouse. Did Leon let you in?”
Ski Mask seemed to grin behind the black knit material. “I’ve got friends everywhere, kind of like you. They owe me favors. I cashed one in, and now I’m about to cash in another.”
“You’re not stalking Tracee, are you?”
