Fresh fear spiked along her spine. She tried to remember that everyone said she had a gift for communicating but this was no recalcitrant seven-year-old with a smartphone hidden beneath his desk.
‘You think I’m lying?’ he said softly.
‘No, no.’ Regan rushed to assure him, only to have him bark out a harsh sound that was possibly laughter.
‘Unbelievable.’
He shook his head and Regan briefly measured the distance from her to the door.
‘Too far,’ he murmured, as if reading her mind. Probably not difficult, since she was staring at the door as if she was willing it to open by itself. Which she was.
‘Look—’
He moved so quickly she barely got one word out before he was in front of her. ‘No more questions. No more games. Give me your phone or I’ll tear everything apart until I find it.’
‘Bathroom.’
His eyes narrowed.
‘I was taking a shower when you turned up,’ she said. ‘I like to play music while I’m in there.’
‘Get it.’
Nearly demanding that he say ‘please’, Regan decided that the best thing she could do was to stay quiet. The sooner he got what he was looking for, the sooner he would leave.
Moving on wooden legs, she walked towards the bathroom, coming up short when he followed her. Staring back at him in the bathroom mirror, she saw just how big he was, his wide shoulders filling the doorway and completely blocking out the view of the room behind him.
Their eyes connected and for a brief moment awareness charged the air between them, turning her hot. Flustered, she dropped her eyes and picked up her phone. She handed it to him, crossing her arms over her chest in a purely protective gesture.
‘Password?’
Heat radiated from his body, surrounding her, and she wished he’d move back. ‘Trudyjack,’ she said grudgingly.
‘Your parents’ names?’ He gave her a bemused look. ‘You might as well have used ABC.’
Regan’s eyes flashed to his. How did he know they were her parents’ names? How did he know so much about her?
‘Who are you?’ she whispered, frightened all over again.
‘I told you. I am the King of Santara. I knew everything about you less than an hour after your plane landed in my country.’
Regan swallowed hard and pressed herself against the basin behind her. Could he really be who he said he was? It didn’t seem possible, and yet he did have an unmistakable aura of power and authority about him. But then so did killers, she imagined.
She watched him scroll through her contact list and emails, his scowl darkening in the lengthening silence.
‘Chad’s phone is switched off,’ she said, unable to keep her vow of silence from moments ago. She couldn’t help it. She’d never been good with silences and when she was nervous that only became worse. ‘I know because I’ve tried to call him daily.’
‘He doesn’t have his phone with him.’
‘Then what are you searching for on my phone?’
‘A burner number. An email from an unknown source.’
‘How do you know he doesn’t have it with him?’
Ignoring her question, he asked another one of his own. ‘Does he have a second phone?’
Regan frowned. Why would Chad not take his phone with him? His phone was his lifeline. ‘No. But I wouldn’t tell you even if he did.’