Page 112 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
My last lifeline to 9-1-1 and the outside world? “I-I don’t have it.”
Mouth pressing into a grim line, Ridge yanks the strap of my purse off my shoulders, rifles through my bag, finds the device, and powers it down before pocketing it. “I’m sorry.”
Terror grips my throat. “What are you going to do to me?”
He doesn’t answer, which only terrifies me more. Then the elevator dings.
Eighth floor.
The doors open to a shadowy, dank hallway. It’s outdated. It smells musty.
I grab on to the safety rail in the elevator for dear life. I’m not letting go until Ridge gives me some answers. “Why are you bringing me here?”
He lifts me again, bracing me against his chest and carrying me away from my last line of escape without remorse. “So we can…talk.”
The way he says it? I don’t think that’s all we’ll be doing.
A team of maintenance men work on doorknobs up and down the hall. A few others pour into open hotel rooms with drawn drapes, hastily made beds, and…are they stringing up surveillance equipment?
Ridge finds an older guy wearing a hard hat with a belly that says he likes beer. “Are you finishing all these tonight?”
He nods. “Boss’s orders.”
Cursing, Ridge regards the maintenance worker. “Are any rooms complete yet?”
“Most of them. We’ll be finished in ten minutes. Audio will have to wait until morning, due to parts. But video is done along this hallway.” The older guy gestures from here to the grimy window.
Ridge doesn’t look pleased. “Active?”
Does he want to know if the rooms are already under video surveillance?
“If they’re not yet, they will be soon. Boss was in a hurry. Why? Got plans?” He flicks his gaze over to me, stare roaming my body with a dirty smile that makes me want a shower.
Ridge doesn’t answer. “I’ll be in the last door on the right. Tell your guys not to disturb me.”
The maintenance worker gives him a two-fingered salute. “You got it. Have fun.”
Without another word, Ridge forges full steam ahead into the room in question. Outside the door, he flicks the lock open.
Why does it lock from the hallway?
Then the door slams shut. He carries me to the center of the room, at the foot of a king-size bed, and sets me on my feet. “Why are you here?”
“Why should I answer you?”
Those black eyes sharpen. “You better listen to me, Little Red.”
I gasp. That’s what he called me when we met on New Year’s Eve, the night he spent in my hotel room with my body under his, giving me hours of the kind of pleasure that made me sure every other person staying on our floor heard me, too.
Here we are again. A different hotel room and a different situation—one way more terrifying, but…
“You remember?” It’s the wrong question to ask. It’s definitely the wrong time to ask it. But him using that nickname fills me with hope. It’s stupid. But it makes me feel better.
“You’re fucking right, I do,” he growls in my ear. “And now you’re in the middle of this shit, where I’d never want you.”
“Then why are you here?”
He sighs. “Long-ass story. But you better follow my lead—to the letter—if you want to live.”
