Page 36 of Luke's Revenge (Walker Security - Lucifer's Trilogy 3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ana

Luke’s literally naked and pointing his gun at the door, and I swear my heart beats with such fierceness that the entire hotel must vibrate from its force. If this doesn’t define our lives right now, I don’t know what does. I scramble for my gun as well, not even sure I remember when I took it off or where it rests, and end up standing beside Luke. Both of us stare down at a red envelope on the floor, just inside the door. A small wash of relief washes over me, be it that we are now facing a piece of paper versus an attack, but I’m still on edge. The hotel usually doesn’t place a bill in a red envelope.

“What is this?” I ask, softly.

“Trouble,” he says. “Get dressed, baby,” and he’s already reaching for my clothes and handing them to me, running down a plan. “We grab it. We read it in case it tells us something we’re better off knowing, and then we get the hell out of here.”

“Agreed,” I say, and I watch him set his weapon down, uneasy that neither of us has one in our hands, but we dress quickly, and the weight of my firearm in my hand is all that calms the racing of my heart.

Once we’re fully put together, Luke glances at me and we share a nod before he grabs the envelope. He quickly backs away from the door and both of us step out of the line of ammo that might make it through the wall, at least as best as we can, considering the small room. Literally, someone could spray bullets and we’d be dead, but I cling to the idea that these people want that package. Without us, they feel like they won’t get their hands on it.

Luke sets his weapon on the bed again and opens the envelope, removing a card that reads, “Invitation.”

You are cordially invited to the home of Michael Phillips for a cocktail party.

Wednesday night, eight pm.

Michael, being Newman’s father.

And the party is tomorrow night.

Luke slides the card back into the envelope. “I have a lot of thoughts about this, but the most important one is: how the fuck did he know where to find us?” I’d echo his sentiments, but he doesn’t wait for my confirmation, punching in a number on his cellphone and letting it ring on speakerphone.

Blake answers on the first ring. “Obviously, we have a problem.”

It’s confirmation our team is at least not wholly in the dark. “Phillips slid an invitation to a party under the hotel room door. We’re leaving, but we need backup.”

“Smith is in your hallway, harassing the cleaning lady who was hovering around your door, which we now can assume was to place the invitation. Dexter is sitting in the lobby, at a table, drinking coffee. Give me sixty seconds to get him ahead of you and Smith in front.”

“Copy that,” Luke replies, and disconnects, sliding his phone into his pocket, before punching the timer on his watch. “Obviously the son wasn’t the real buyer.”

“Agreed,” I say again, “and either Phillips didn’t give us those five days to find the package and meet up at the ranch, or he’s impatient.”

His watch beeps our sixty-second alert, he kisses me hard and fast, and says, “I’ll clear the path, then you stay close. I want you in front of me after I give the all clear.”

I don’t fight him on the front or rear of this exit. We both know either side of the path could be the one with trouble which is exactly why he got back up. We close the space between us and the door, and Luke opens the door, to curse. “Fucking Smith.”

I step to Luke’s side and literally, Smith is standing there. He’s tall, with sandy brown hair, and friendly, but intense, eyes. “They know you’re here,” he says. “You might as well walk out with the cavalry.”

He’s not really wrong.

Smith backs away from the door, an invitation for us to exit. Luke eyes me and motions me forward.

Nerves prickle, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end but there is only one logical way out of this room and it’s forward, and soon I’m sandwiched between Smith and Luke. We start walking. I think at this point it’s safe to say, we are all of the same cautious mind. Because the truth is, the invitation could easily have been meant to create a false sense of security when we leave this room. At any moment, bullets could fly with us as the targets.

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