The television screen was on up in the corner of the restaurant, not playing a sports game as one would expect. The station was airing the rerun of the press conference held a day ago with the Director of the FBI, Carl Lewis. In his early fifties, Lewis was clean-cut, clean-shaven, and in good shape. His round blue eyes held wisdom and strength, and he wore a suit as well as any businessman on Wall Street. The man had been in the media more than out of it lately. The face of the investigation that was going nowhere, yet he seemed to excel in manipulating the media to believe otherwise.
“At this time, are there any new developments in locating the Casanova Sadist?” a reporter called from the audience.
“Every day there are new developments,” Lewis said calmly. “We’re working every angle, twenty-four seven.”
“Bullshit,” Rowan muttered to himself. He’d seen the FBI files. They had no angle, no evidence, nothing.
Another reporter called out, “Do you have any new suspects?”
“I cannot discuss that at this time, as I don’t want to hinder the investigation.” Lewis pointed to another reporter. “Yes.”
“Should the city go on a lockdown?”
Carl’s blue eyes warmed and he held up a hand. “I know the people of New York City are afraid, but I assure you, everyone is safe. Yes, take extra caution. Be wise. But the FBI is working diligently on this case. We will not rest until we get the women home and arrest whoever is responsible for these heinous crimes.”
The front door of the store suddenly flew open, jolting Rowan into awareness. He relaxed when a group of teenagers came inside and hurried to three other teenagers sitting at a table.
Rowan only caught pieces of what the kid said. “Dude…hotel…fire…come on.”
A hot rush of unease crept over Rowan. His instincts had saved his life many times, but they also warned him of danger just as much. He stepped closer to the group. “Hey, kid.”
The blue-haired teenager turned around, chest heaving with the obvious exertion of running there. “Yeah?”
“What hotel was on fire?”
“Landon—”
Rowan didn’t even let the kid finish. He bolted toward the door. Hotel fires were few and far between, but pulling an alarm was also the easiest way to clear a hotel when a killer needed, and wanted, possible witnesses cleared. Rowan had done it himself, many times.
“Sir,” the server called as he threw the door open. “Your food!”
Rowan didn’t look back. He ran. To Alex.
CHAPTER 10
THE FIRE ALARM blaring out in the hallway had Alex shutting her laptop to go and investigate. She moved to the front door, not minding the interruption. No matter how many scripts she ran, she still got nowhere, except for hitting one server that whoever was on the other end had knowledge of how to keep her out. That server had been the one she’d been working on for the last hour. Usually if someone wanted to keep a hacker like her out, there was good reason.
When she opened the door, she found the guests leaving their rooms and moving to the staircase. Great. She hurried back to grab her laptop and then slipped into her shoes before heading for the door again. The heavy door opened a mere crack before it was slammed open, sending both Alex and her laptop crashing to the floor.
There was no chance to look up and see what happened or who stood there. There were only fingers tight on her neck and a heavy body crushing down on her. She barely got her eyes open enough to see a face, one she didn’t recognize, but she stared into the piercing brown eyes in the seconds before she caught his arm, pushing hard against it to stop the gun from aiming at her head.
Rowan.
Seconds felt like a minutes-long moment in hell as she realized someone was there to kill her. And thus came the realization that whoever’s server she hit knew exactly who she was and where she was staying.
Her heart rate thundered in her ears. The scream desperate to rip from her throat in a call for help was right there, but died when his fingers tightened more and more, while his knee dug into her chest. Blackness began to creep into her vision, and she knew that would be the end of her. And yet…and yet, there was no moving him off, no getting away. She thrashed beneath him, but her hand on his gun was the only thing keeping her from dying right there on the hotel floor.
Rowan.
Then her arms weakened, the strain far too much for her to hold. The gun, with a silencer, slowly began to turn closer to her face, her arms shaking.
This is it…
Rowan…
A sudden loud bang followed by another bang that was deafening and echoed in the suite eased the darkness slightly. And then there was only a dead weight onto her chest, pressing against her with unbearable heaviness.
Until that weight was gone.