Another knock at the door had him frowning at Trent.
“That should be the refreshments I ordered for the interview,” the actor said, wincing a little when he realized that he’d forgotten to tell Dom. “I called down to the front desk this morning and set it up.”
Dom’s heart slowed down again, and he turned toward the door. Peeking out, there was a man in the hotel livery with a cart covered in a white tablecloth. There were several dishes under silver covers and a bouquet of red roses.
“What’s on the cart?” he demanded.
“Um…j-just some fruits and a cheese and cracker tray,” the guy stammered. “Somebody placed the order this morning for it to be delivered at this time.”
Dom stepped out of the way and motioned for the man to enter the room with the cart. “Set it up over there at the end of the conference table.”
The guy paused and stared at Trent for a moment, who was busy answering a question the reporter had just asked about his current project. “I think it would be better over there.”
“No.” Dom started to approach the hotel staff member, aiming to put his body firmly between Trent and this idiot when he saw him wrap his fingers around a knife far larger than what was needed to slice cheese or fruit. Goddammit! This was the stalker.
The man screamed and charged Trent, but Dom grabbed one arm, swinging him away from the actor. The woman’s panicked screech filled the room, but Dom didn’t look from the man who crashed into the cart, knocking it over. He immediately rolled back to his feet and dropped into a fighter’s stance, the knife still firmly clutched in his right hand.
“Get out of the way, Strawberry Shortcake!” the attacker snarled.
“Are you shitting me with this?” He’d heard the nickname more than enough growing up. He thought reaching over six feet tall and two hundred pounds of pure muscle would fix things so no one dared to utter it again. But this asshat was obviously out of his mind.
The attacker took a swipe at Dom, the sharp edge slicing dangerously through the air. Dom dodged the blade and countered by smashing his fist into the guy’s jaw. On a second swipe, Dom managed to hit a pressure point in his wrist. The knife clattered uselessly to the ground and the man stepped back, undeterred.
“Call security!” Dom shouted. He had this guy handled, but they’d need the police in there to take the asshole away as well as to question the hell out of the hotel to figure out how he got in.
“Do you want me—” Trent started to offer, but Dom cut him off.
“Just call for backup and stay away from this douchecanoe!”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Trent Elrige! You ruined my marriage!” the attacker screamed. He tried to charge around Dom to get at Trent again, but Dom remained firmly in his path. They traded blows, the man again surprising Dom with his fight training. The guy knew his shit, but Dom was better. The bastard stumbled back, wiping some blood off his mouth. There was an ugly look to his eyes, as if he was only too happy to kill Dom if it meant getting his hands on Trent. He took one step and Dom kicked him square in the chest, sending him reeling backward.
The man’s large frame crashed through the plate glass window. Dom ran to the opening to see he’d hit the roof of a parked taxi cab one floor below. People outside the hotel screamed and panicked. Cops nearby rushed to the man, who groaned but didn’t try to get up.
“Holy shit!” Trent said, standing next to him.
Dom grabbed his arm and quickly ushered him deep into the room where the windows were darkened, and people couldn’t see him any longer.
The door to the room slammed open. Garrett and three cops ran inside. Dom kept his body positioned in front of Trent while pushing him back against the wall. There was too much chaos, and the room was no longer secure.
Trent placed a gentle hand on Dom’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m good. We’re all good. You saved my life.”
“Garrett! Secure the room!” Dom shouted. He was relieved to hear that Trent was okay, but he wasn’t ready to stand down. Not until the cops had the attacker in custody and the room was locked down.
In a matter of seconds, the reporter was ushered out. Cops stood in front of the window and the door. A couple of detectives took their statements about the events before leaving to descend on the hotel’s management. A flurry of activity that kept Dom’s adrenaline pumping hard through his body.
It was only when he and Garrett were up in Trent’s luxurious suite that he felt himself starting to crash. The incident had gotten Trent excused from filming that night and the rest of his interviews rescheduled for another day. The movie star was stretched out in a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt, a beer clutched tightly in one hand.