Hotel Hideaway: (Soldiering On #4) Read online

  But he couldn’t. His mission came first.

  “Cool,” he said, anticipating another lonely night in front of the TV once she left.

  She hesitated, then glanced up at him. “I can help,” she told him softly, her eyes sincere. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

  The urge to tell her welled up, almost overpowering him. His eyes shifted, landing on the portrait of his brother, Greg. His bright eyes, and hopeful expression. The man had been lured into fighting for his country, taken in by all the patriotism and promises surrounding a career in the military. He’d believed so strongly he was helping people, and doing good in this world.

  Until someone had taken that away from him, along with his life. People died in war—Cameron knew that. But they weren’t generally killed by greed. The destruction of something his brother had taken such pride in galled Cameron even further. And he needed to make that right, for his brother’s legacy.

  Besides, it was clear pursuing this put his own life in danger. If Sam was who she claimed, he couldn’t endanger her, too. And if she wasn’t? Well, it would likely mean his death if he confessed his true motives.

  “Thank you for the offer,” is all he said.

  She nodded once, disappointment clouding her features, then turned to leave.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Cameron made himself a sandwich and settled on the couch to watch the tail end of a basketball game. He didn’t bother turning on the light, just let the flickering glow from the TV screen illuminate the lounge.

  Exhaustion from the long day washed over him, and he must have drifted off because he woke to a black and white movie playing on the TV. He blinked, clearing his eyes of sleep. He glanced at the clock to see how long he’d been out—not long—and what had woken him.

  A dark shape moved at the edge of his vision, beyond the window. Cameron froze, then deliberately relaxed and breathed as normally as he could. His heart still pounded relentlessly in his chest, fear running through his veins like ice.

  He reached for the remote and flicked off the TV as if in preparation for leaving the room. Really, though, he wanted to ensure he was as invisible as possible if an intruder entered.

  Slowly, he moved his eyes while keep his head still, giving himself a better view of whatever it had been outside. Nothing there.

  He exhaled heavily. Being almost killed a few times had made him paranoid. Surely it had just been a piece of garbage fluttering past.

  But the fear remained like an ice-shard in his heart, slow to melt away.

  He stood, stretched, tried to dismiss his paranoia, and then headed to his room only partially successful. He left the bedroom door partway open so he could see into the living room and the window beyond. He brushed his teeth in the master bathroom, taking his time, but he couldn’t take his mind off the shape he’d seen outside. He could have sworn it was a person.

  Maybe he was losing it.

  Ready for bed, Cameron wandered back into the bedroom. He glanced towards the partly-open door. He shouldn’t check. If he ignored the paranoia it would disappear eventually.

  But he had to make sure.

  The flame caught his eye first, blue with heat and directed at the edge of one of the windows. A blow torch, held by a person dressed in black and floating in the darkness. Excellent insulation on the windows dulled what little sound the person must be making. The silence was somehow even more terrifying.

  Cameron stepped back out of the line of sight, his heartbeat thundering. He couldn’t hear from the blood rushing in his head. Rationality had completely escaped him.

  He had one thought—call Sam.

  He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and dialled. The urge to peek into the living room almost overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t risk being seen.

  “Cameron?” Sam answered, confusion clear in her tone. “Are you okay?”

  He swallowed, trying to get some moisture in his dry mouth.

  “Someone’s here,” he hissed.

  The clank of metal hitting ceramic sounded on Sam’s end of the phone.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice brisk. He could hear movement, imagined her standing, readying herself to rush to him.

  Relief flooded him. Premature, he knew, but the thought of Sam coming for him gave him a belief he might survive this attempt on his life, too. She’d saved him before, she would again.

  “I’m alright. They’re outside the window. I think they’re using a blowtorch to get in.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Sam muttered, her breath coming in pants. Running? “Here’s what you need to do. Close the bedroom door and get in the bathroom. Find a weapon—multiple weapons if you can. Lock the bathroom door—it’s the only one in your apartment that locks. When that’s done, you need to hang up and call the police, okay? Wait until they arrive, but don’t leave the bathroom to meet them. Let them break down the door if they have to. But stay in the bathroom. Got it?” she asked with an intensity he hadn’t heard from her before.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  The call went dead. Cameron carefully reach his hand to the doorknob and shut it as quietly as he could. Weapon. He had to find a weapon. His gaze landed on the heavy lamp on his bedside table. Perfect. He rushed over, wrenched the plug from the wall, and unscrewed the bulb with as much hustle as he could manage. The shade came off as soon as the bulb tumbled out, leaving the solid base behind. A perfect weapon.

  He took two steps to the bathroom, then paused, his ears straining for sound. The heavy thump of glass settling on his carpeted lounge room floor permeated the thick door. The assassin was inside.

  Torn between speed and unobtrusiveness, Cameron tipped his dresser on the side so it lay in front of the door. Random items that had been sitting on top—cufflinks, coins, cologne—scattered to the floor. Cameron didn’t pay any attention, just sprinted to the bathroom and shut the door behind him, clicking the lock shut.

  The heavy wood of the door wouldn’t protect him for long if the person on the other side had enough motivation. He swallowed as another shard of fear pierced him.

  What did he have to do next?

  Police. He dialled and was put straight through to an operator. As they answered, he heard the slow push of a door opening, the heavy dresser dragging across the floor behind it.

  He gulped, gasping the situation to the operator with as much brevity as he could manage. His voice shook. He didn’t hear what the woman said in reply, as the phone slipped from his trembling hands. It cracked on the tiles of the bathroom.

  Cameron pressed his back against the cold tile walls and held his makeshift weapon at the ready. The steady slap of the loose cord against his leg was like a clock hand ticking towards his doom.

  He waited.

  All went silent.

  Chapter 9

  Sam’s feet beat a steady rhythm against the pavement as she jogged down Cameron’s street. Everything within her urged her to go faster—to sprint—but the rational part of her mind knew she’d be too worn out from lack of oxygen by the time she reached Cameron to be of any use to him. She had to hope the cops would get there before she did.

  Her lungs burned like flames in her chest, scorching her with every breath. Her leg, too, was agony. But she needed to get to her charge—to Cameron. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t make it in time.

  She spurred herself to move faster, dodging a pair of late stragglers wobbling down the street. His apartment building loomed into her vision like a beacon of hope. As she ran, she glanced up to his apartment on the tenth floor. A yawning black hole was visible where a window should be. That must be how they’d gotten in.

  Why go through that way? Why attack him in his apartment? It didn’t make any sense.

  A light in Cameron’s apartment flickered on, spilling out of the empty hole in the glass. A rushing sounded in her ears as she tried to work out whether the light was a good sign or a bad.

  She raced through the lobby, noticing Drew sat behind t
he security desk.

  “Give me the key to Cameron’s apartment,” she gasped. Drew’s eyes widened. Sam figured she must look terrifying, because Drew didn’t even question her, just opened a desk drawer and handed her a key. She tried to form her mouth into a smile of thanks, but didn’t take the time to see if she’d succeeded. “Get to the tenth floor, now!” she yelled, then ducked into the elevator as Drew scrambled to obey.

  She pressed the button to Cameron’s floor and took a deep, steadying breath as the container slowly inched up. Her heart still beat a fierce tattoo of terror in her chest. She couldn’t be too late. She couldn’t.

  Sam tugged her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. Four minutes since Cameron had called. Lucky she’d stopped for a late dinner a few blocks away when she’d left Cameron, otherwise she’d be miles away.

  The elevator dinged, and Sam sprinted out before the doors had finished opening.

  Sam reached Cameron’s apartment. The door was still solidly locked, a sign the police hadn’t arrived yet. Panic gripped at Sam’s throat. So much could have happened in four minutes. Sam shuddered to think.

  Banishing thoughts of Cameron dead or nearly-dead, Sam jammed the key Drew had given her into the lock. Before pushing the door open, she tugged the gun from her ankle holster and held it in front of her. Her hand trembled faintly, the adrenaline coursing through her, urging her to move.

  Silence greeted her in the apartment. Sam took a few steps, her ears straining for any sound. Was she too late? Her heart settled heavily in her throat.

  She dared not call out, so she crept forward, senses on high alert. A faint clicking reached her. Not steady, erratic. Probably human-made.

  It was coming from the bedroom.

  Sam moved silently forward, following the sound. The bedroom door was open enough to fit a slim person, clothes and other items scattering the floor visible through the small gap.

  Her gun at the ready, Sam peeked her head around the corner. A dark figure crouched in front of the bathroom door, intent on the lock. The faint clicking came from that direction, and Sam recognised the sound—a lock being picked.

  Two thoughts fought for dominance in her mind. One, relief the assassin hadn’t breached the door she’d ordered Cameron to hide behind. Two, the assassin was picking the lock using a cufflink instead of breaking the door down. Unusual to say the least.

  A third thought crowded the other two out—the assassin was female. Small, slim, and with a woman’s shape. It surprised Sam enough that her weapon drooped, though she instantly caught herself.

  A clatter sounded from outside the apartment, and Sam squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second when Drew appeared, panting loudly.

  The assassin glanced up, her face covered by a black mask, and caught sight of Sam. She leapt to her feet, glancing between Sam and the window and back again, searching for an escape route.

  “What the hell?” Drew’s voice asked from the doorway.

  Sam ignored him.

  Flashing red and blue lights lit the apartment from outside the window, signalling the police’s arrival to the street below.

  “Drew, can you bring the police up here? Tell them we’ve got an assassin trapped.”

  He gasped. “An assassin?”

  “Please just go.”

  Drew grunted his annoyance and disappeared while the assassin held up her gloved hands in mock surrender.

  The woman didn’t have a weapon that Sam could see, but she stayed cautious, not sure what tricks the woman had up her sleeves.

  “Cameron, are you okay?” Sam called, not taking her eyes or her gun from the assassin.

  “Sam?” Cameron gasped from behind the door. “Oh thank God. Be careful, there’s someone out there.”

  “Don’t worry, I have my eye on her,” she said. “But don’t come out yet just in case. The cops are on their way up.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. It was the only warning Sam got before a lampshade hurtled towards her at lightning speed. She ducked automatically to avoid the flying object. The assassin took advantage of the half a second of distraction to leap forward in Sam’s direction, her leg extended in a flying kick.

  The woman’s foot landed with a solid thump on Sam’s chest, knocking the breath from her lungs and Sam on her ass. They went down in a tumble, the assassin landing on Sam’s chest. Her already weakened lungs struggled to suck in air. The woman struck her once, twice, in quick succession, before Sam’s reason returned and she grasped the woman’s wrist with her left hand.

  The assassin made a sound of annoyance, and Sam wrenched her arm so the woman rocked to the side. Sam used the momentum to roll them over so she was on top, but the woman was too agile, quickly squirming and twisting out of Sam’s grip.

  Sam brought her gun up, aiming at the woman, but the assassin kicked backwards, sending the gun flying. Sam scrambled forward, reaching for the woman’s ankles, but she darted out of Sam’s grip with shocking ease. Sam could only watch as the woman dived out the window and caught the rope dangling there, shimmying instantly up and out of sight.

  Sam dived for her gun and crawled to her feet, going after her. By the time she got to the window and glanced up, the assassin had nearly reached the top of the rope, preparing to roll over onto the roof. Sam brought her gun up and aimed, but the angle was all wrong, and the assassin disappeared over the lip before she could get it right.

  She turned, intending to go after her, before remembering Cameron was still trapped in the bathroom. Sam hesitated, torn between staying by her client and chasing his attacker, but the police chose that moment to arrive, making the decision for her.

  “She’s on the roof,” she gasped at them. “Get your asses moving, before she escapes.”

  Chapter 10

  They didn’t find the assassin.

  Sam had retrieved Cameron from the bathroom, and the two of them had waited while the police scoured the building for any sign of the woman that had tried to kill him. Sam had paced the room, tension radiating from her as they waited for news. She kept glancing to the door, every line in her body broadcasting her readiness.

  Cameron, on the other hand, was still processing the adrenaline running through his system, and not steady on his feet.

  An hour later the police returned with the news neither of them wanted to hear: the intruder had disappeared. Other than the rope dangling from the roof, and the damage done to Cameron’s apartment, it was as if she’d never been there.

  The police left with their statements and a promise to keep up the search. Cameron didn’t have much faith they’d succeed.

  “Where could she have gone?” Cameron asked Sam once they were alone in his apartment. His shoulders itched with the feeling of wearing a target on his back from the dangerous assassin still after his blood.

  Sam shrugged, the vague expression on her face signalling her mind pondered a different puzzle. “If I were her I would’ve had numerous escape routes planned ahead of time. Possibly over onto the next roof.”

  “You don’t seem particularly concerned she got away,” Cameron mused.

  Sam whirled to face him. “Concerned? Of course I’m concerned. A deadly and highly-trained assassin came after you in your own home. This is the second worst case scenario. The first, of course, would’ve been if she’d succeeded.”

  Cameron stared at Sam for a long moment following her outburst, trying to understand.

  “I’m okay,” Cameron told her softly.

  She let out a shallow laugh. “But you might not have been. If I hadn’t had the whim to stop for some Chow Mein a few blocks over, you could be dead right now.”

  “Why do you care?” asked Cameron, his eyes boring into her as if he could discern her secrets.

  She took a few steps towards him, then halted, rocking forward onto her toes with the momentum. “I have my professional reputation to think about,” Sam told him, her eyes telling him a very different, more personal story. Then, the corner of her mouth kick
ed up in a smile. “Besides, I don’t want you to die before I figure out your secrets. That’s too intriguing a mystery.”

  Cameron chuckled at her attempt to lighten the mood. “Fair enough.”

  They locked eyes for a long moment, and Cameron struggled to take a breath. She really was beautiful. Her attempts to hide her lithe figure behind shapeless clothes hadn’t worked. And the wisps of hair escaping from her ponytail and cheeks flushed red with emotion made him think of messy hair and messy sex.

  But it was her intelligence that called to him. No one had come close to discovering his hidden agenda, and the existence of his true self. And she’d done it all in a day. For a man that had outsmarted other people for so many years, it thrilled him to meet his match.

  Tonight, if nothing else, had made it clear to Cameron he could no longer pursue this mission alone. He would be dead twice over if it wasn’t for Sam. She deserved to know what she risked her life for, to decide for herself if she wanted to help him with his investigation.

  And he wanted to tell her, to share this burden with an intelligent, brave, beautiful woman.

  Sam blinked and looked away, then strode towards the window and peered out the empty pane. The police had taken the ropes as evidence, but Cameron could still feel his shock when he’d seen the assassin dangling there. Cameron took a deep breath, preparing to tell Sam the truth, but not knowing where to start.

  Sam glanced his way, then back out the window. “So, why does Beaton Security want to kill you?” she asked with fake idleness.

  Cameron choked on nothing at her words. “How did you know?” he sputtered.

  Sam turned to him with a proud grin. “This trick with the blowtorch is something we taught them. A friend of mine broke into their offices this way. Looks like they were returning the favour.”

  Cameron shook his head, processing that. “Wait. We? Who are you?”

  “I work for a rival company,” Sam told him without a trace of hesitation. It looked like tonight would be a night of secrets being spilled. Cameron didn’t mind that at all.