Beth wrapped the hotel robe around her body. She'd finally relented and climbed from the tub. She couldn't stay in there forever. She was half prune as it was. And while Alex had shown her in every imaginable way that he had absolutely no problem with her body, she wasn't sure yet that she wanted to push the limits of his tolerance by going full prune on the poor guy.
Water clung to her legs as she stepped out of the bathroom. Alex was already dressed...well, clothed...well, partially. He had on a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. It wasn't exactly evening wear, but dear Lord, he still looked sexy as hell.
He looked up at her from the message he was reading on his phone and smiled. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said.
Hey, sweetheart.
That was enough to make her a puddle on the floor. She was such a softie.
There was a knock on the door. Alex's head immediately snapped up.
“Room service,” a voice from the other side said.
Alex pulled his gun from the holster on the floor, and tucked it into the back waistband of his boxers. Only then did he go to the door.
“We didn't order any room service,” he said.
“It's from a John Ryman. He called from down in the lobby. Said it was a shame you didn't stay for dessert and champagne. Figured you might want this after an hour or so.” Even through the door, Beth could hear the laughter in the man's voice.
“Come on,” Beth said. “I seriously doubt that assassins knock.”
“Shows what you know,” Alex said with a tilt of his head.
“I can leave it outside if, you know, this isn't a good time,” the voice said.
Alex undid the chain. Then the two other locks that held the door secure. He cracked it open slowly, his hand never leaving the butt of his gun. After a second, he let the door fall open.
A metal cart rolled into the room, pushed by the same waiter they'd run into in the corridor. The one that Alex had put into a choke hold not three hours ago.
“Hey, it's you,” the guy said with a big smile. Apparently, he wasn't the kind to hold grudges. Alex didn't look half as happy to see him. “Is there any chance that you could show me how you pulled off that sick move earlier?”
“No chance in hell.”
“That's too bad,” he said. “Not many people get the drop on me. I'd like to have known how you did it.”
Beth felt a tickle of unease as the waiter reached behind him and started to pull something out of his back waistband. She took a step to the side, so she was positioned behind the couch, as the waiter turned toward her. She didn’t wait. She listened to her gut and threw herself on the ground. She caught a flash of gunmetal as she fell.
She heard the gun go off. It was quieter than she expected. He must have had a silencer. Shards of wood floated to the floor as the bullet embedded in the wardrobe five feet behind her.
Beth lifted her head in time to see Alex slam into the other man. The waiter quickly recovered and tried turning the gun in Alex’s direction. But the men were too close.
Alex grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked it back hard. There were no broken bones this time, but the gun fell. Alex took a hard hit to the jaw, but he took it without complaint. And gave one of his own right back.
The hits flew so fast Beth had a hard time keeping track. This guy was better than the last. There was no doubt about that. He kept up with the speed of Alex's punches, deflecting the worst of the attack.
Alex might need her help. She looked around for the gun and found it underneath the couch, just out of reach. She tried to squeeze her way under, but couldn't quite fit. She desperately stretched out her arm, past the point of pain. Her fingers just barely brushed the butt. She flicked at it, willing it to move into her hand, until she finally got a decent grip on it.
She’d never held a real gun before, just water pistols when she was a kid, but she figured the idea was the same. Business end points at bad guy. Pull the trigger. Except if she did manage to fire this thing, something a hell of a lot worse than someone getting wet would happen.
Beth popped up from behind the couch. She tried to aim at the waiter, but her hands were shaking too hard. She straightened her arms and locked her elbows. It didn’t help.
Not that it mattered. The men were fighting too close for her to risk taking a shot.
Both men were taking a beating. Blood trickled from cuts on their faces. Body blows hit with sickening thuds, but other than that they didn't make a sound. Neither grunted. Neither cried out.
The waiter landed a solid hit into Alex’s gut. Alex backed up a step, breathing hard. It looked like he was in trouble. The assassin must have thought the same thing. He took advantage, going for another hard blow to Alex's side. But Alex didn't crumple.
Instead, in a flash, he grasped the man's forearm and twisted the arm back at an unnatural angle. Only then did the waiter make a sound. It wasn't a scream exactly, but a muffled yelp that was no less sickening. Alex took advantage of the waiter's injury, twisting his elbow until it crooked behind his spine. Alex slung his other arm around the man's throat, immobilizing him.
Only then did Alex look over at her. He was breathing hard, and his face was bleeding pretty bad. It was obvious that he was favoring his right side. Beth realized that he had faked his injury, at least partially. But he hadn’t fallen. She should have known that it would have taken a hell of a lot more than that to bring Alex Tanner down.
What had John said? He would have brought an army.
Alex positioned himself so his back was against the wall, holding the waiter fast in his arms. The guy wasn't going anywhere. Beth closed her eyes and turned her face. She didn't want to watch as another guy crumpled to the floor with a broken neck.
“Get my phone,” Alex said. She opened one eye and peeked. The waiter, or whoever the hell he was, was still alive. “Find John in my contact list and tell him we need backup.”
Beth nodded. She dropped the gun on the couch and looked around for Alex’s phone. It was on the bedside table. Her legs were shaky, but she made it there all right. It turned out her fingers were even shakier. It took her three attempts to dial John before she succeeded.
It was a good thing she hadn't tried to shoot that gun after all.
The phone only rang once.
“Go,” a voice said from the other end.
“Um...John,” she said. It was only after she heard her own voice that she realized that she was crying.
“Beth? What's going on? Where's Alex?” It was the closest thing to emotion that she'd heard in his voice.
“He's okay. But we need some help.”
The man started to struggle anew in Alex's grasp. Alex jolted his arm up again. This time there was a harsh crack and the man moaned as he sagged in Alex's arms.
“Backup,” Alex repeated. “We need backup.”
“He says backup,” Beth said into the phone, “but I'm sticking with help.”
It didn't take the cavalry long to arrive. John was there before the tears dried on Beth's cheeks. There were two other men with him. There would have been four, he said, but the other two were busy helping the agent they’d found shot at the end of the hallway.
The man she'd seen when they'd stepped from the elevator. Beth felt her heart sink to the floor. The tears welled up again and rolled down her cheeks.
This was all because of her. A man had been shot because of her. Alex's face and body had taken a beating because of her. God knew how many more were putting their lives in danger, all because of her.
“He's going to live,” John told her. His voice was as flat as ever, but he put his hand on her shoulder for a millisecond. She looked up at him and smiled. He was trying to comfort her. He was terrible at it, but at least he was trying. That was what mattered.
The two men with John wasted no time hauling off the waiter.
“Where are you taking him?” Beth asked.
Both John and Alex looked at her, mouths closed. Yeah, she shouldn't have expected an answer.
&nb
sp; ***