They grab him, one on each side, and he momentarily seems to put up a fight before relaxing in their hold. As they escort him away, he throws one last look behind him.
As soon as he’s gone, I slip out of the stairwell and whisper, “Moving to the exit.”
“I’m tapped into the street cams so I’ll see you as soon as you clear the doors.”
The closest exit is a door that lets out on the side street. I’m steps away when I hear, “Hey, Lucca.”
I spin around and freeze when I see who it is.
“Fancy seeing you here, George.”
“Get him on the street,” Devon says in my ear. “I don’t have eyes on you in there.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised since you stood me up yesterday,” he says.
I nod toward the door to let him know we’re taking this outside. He nods back as if he’s good with it.
“Gotcha. Start walking north to the intersection,” Devon tells me.
Even though I can’t see the cameras, I feel some relief that someone else in the world is watching out for me, even if there isn’t too much he can do for me right now.
“You’re plan B if the detectives strike out, right?” It takes everything in me to keep my voice strong and steady.
George laughs. “I was supposed to be plan A. If you just gave him what he wanted, you wouldn’t have had to bother with those cops.”
I shrug and look at him as he walks beside me. “Until next time I piss him off. He’d just pull the card out again. I mean, there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you lit that match,” he says quietly.
“Ryan has left the hotel.” Devon again.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then one more. “My regrets are long, and I’ll have to live with the things I’ve done.” And then I meet his gaze. “You don’t have to do this.”
We stop a few feet from the crosswalk and he stares at me, his eyes roaming my face. “I don’t want to do this. But I have to get what’s in that safe deposit box. We both know that’s the only option right now. My hands are tied, Lucca. You haven’t left me any other choice.”
“And then what?” I whisper.
His hands go to his hips and he steps away from me, his eyes sweeping the streets. He turns back to me. “Maybe I’ll be distracted while I check what’s in the box. Maybe I won’t see that you disappeared.”
He wants me to think he’ll let me go. And he might right now, but it wouldn’t be long before I see him over my shoulder.
The light flashes that we’re clear to cross the street and we walk the next two blocks in silence, until we’re standing in front of the bank.
“If you were gonna walk, now is the time,” Devon says in my ear. “Once you go inside, there’s no turning back.”
George starts up the steps to the entrance of the bank while I’m frozen.
“You coming?” he asks.
I shake it off and follow him instead. Walking away was never an option.
Alias: Regina Hale—Six Months Ago
The smell of sulfur stings my nose as the match flame comes to life. I hold it steady for a second or so to make sure it’s going to stay lit, then throw it on the bed. Flames stretch and grow as it feeds off the synthetic fibers of the comforter and really take hold once it latches on to the bright red coat.
Throwing the last of Amy’s belongings into the black duffel bag, I take one last look around the room to make sure I got everything, then toss the bag back into the housekeeping cart. Flames shoot up, and thick black smoke fills the room. That’s my cue to go.
I pull the hotel room door open and push the cart into the hall, straight to the service elevator that is waiting. Once I’m back on the ground floor, Devon is there waiting for me. I pull out the bag, then hand off the cart to him. We don’t speak when we part ways, him going through the parking garage to exit on the other side of the block while I move through the kitchens to the door that lets out onto a narrow alley on the side of the hotel.
I unlock my car and sink into the driver’s seat. My hands shake as I pull out my phone and tap in the number I have for emergencies.
Mr. Smith answers on the first ring.
“What the fuck happened?” He’s already heard about the fire.
I let out a shaky breath I’m hoping he can hear. “When I entered her room, she was already in the bed. She was extremely intoxicated and had a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth. I approached her with a syringe of Rohypnol but she became violent the second I was near the bed. The cigarette fell out of her mouth and landed on the bedspread. There was an empty bottle of wine next to her, but the contents must have soaked into the bedding, because the entire bed was engulfed in flames within seconds. I reached for her but she . . . was already on fire. Her clothes . . .” My voice cracks and I shudder out a moan. “It was horrific. And so fast. She was just . . . engulfed in flames.” I sound frantic. Scared. My voice is trembling.