Page 4 of Fight Or Flight

His tone of voice made her want to puke all over his desk and leave, but she knew how to handle men like that. A private investigator who knew her last name, and whose intentions were unknown, was much worse.

“I need four nights.”

“Private?” he asked, staring at her boobs. The soaked fabric wasn’t leaving much to the imagination.

“No.”

He let out a huff, then turned to his screen and clicked away. A minute ticked by before he finally spoke. “We have a room ready to go. A twelve, but you’ll probably have the place to yourself.”

“Fine, I’ll take—”

“Or . . .” He cut her off and leaned toward her over the desk, causing a waft of noxious body spray to assault her. “You can come home with me. For free.”

She took a step away from him, her nose scrunching up in her face. “Ew,” she said, pausing and letting that sink in. Hopefully, he’d understand where he stood with her. “No.”

She pulled her credit card from her small purse and dropped it on the counter. She didn’t want to risk him trying to touch her hand if she passed it to him.

“Rude,” he said, picking up the card and clicking away at his keyboard. “I shouldn’t be surprised, bloody American.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and silently pointed out all of his rude behaviour and the fact that she wasn’t American, but she didn’t vocalize it. The last thing she wanted was more conversation with him.

He took his time processing the payment before finally dropping a key card and her credit card back onto the counter. She snatched it up and turned away, marching down the hall until the door to her room came into view.

Behind her, the front door of the lobby chimed, and the rushing sound of rain filled the room. She looked over her shoulder. A man in a black jacket and hat walked through the lobby to the front counter. For a split second, their eyes connected before Natalie looked away. She moved faster toward her door, but the suitcase and her slippery sandals slowed her down.

“Ms. Monroe?” he called.

She broke into a run for her door as the attendant came from behind the desk to stop the man from coming down the hall.

“Paying customers only past this point,” he said.

She inserted the key, pushed into the room, and closed the door behind her. She only had a few minutes to celebrate her victory when she heard the mechanical whirl of a key card entering the lock, then watched in horror as the door swung open and the man in the black jacket and hat walked through.

“Ms. Monroe?” he asked.

“It’s Alvarez,” she said. “You’ve gone through a lot of trouble for the wrong person.”

He took a few more strides to close the distance and peered into her eyes. He looked to be in his forties and in good shape. Tall and broad, with two permanent vertical lines between his eyebrows. “I’m certain I have the right person.”

He reached into a cross-body bag and pulled out a photo. He held it out to Natalie. It was a photo taken many years ago. The picture showed her as a sullen seventeen-year-old, wedged between an elegant old lady and a pretty blond girl a few years younger than her.

Her brain flooded with unwanted memories.

“What do you want?”

“A Mr. Speeler hired me.”

“Don’t know him,” she said, then turned to leave.

“He was Elizabeth Monroe’s attorney.”

Natalie stopped, looked up into his murky, light eyes. “Was?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to inform you that your grandmother died.”

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. Sadness and guilt churned through her gut. When she’d first heard Jess say the name Monroe, she wondered whether it was Elizabeth who was looking for her, but she knew it was best to leave her past in the past. When she’d last seen Elizabeth ten years ago, she figured that would be the last time she’d ever see her. Now she knew.

She forced a breath in, and then back out, trying to squash the rising dread. “When?”

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