“Pot meet kettle. That’s all I’m saying,” Scott rushed out, talking over Ashley’s objections. “As much as I love this ‘yay us’ conference call, I need to get back to work.”
“Okay. Check-in at the same time tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up.
“Sasha, there’s a delivery on the side entrance.” The hotel manager, Margot, grinned at me. She’d been our contact for months, and we’d built a strong connection. She was a hotel professional with thirty years of experience at every level of the industry.
I loved her.
“Perfect. Let me wrap up here, and I’ll meet you out there.”
She tapped her clipboard on the table and left me alone in the business suite.
Blowing out a breath, I finished signing yet another dozen forms and filing them away for the time being.
The hotel was absolutely gorgeous. The lobby was a combination of navy and forest green with dark woods and gold accents. We’d pulled our inspiration from a fabulous smoking jacket I’d bought Luca—a jacket he said he loved but had never worn. The rooms were individualized by themes while having a cohesive look that kept the renovations from being a total nightmare.
Walking through the small but beautiful event space, I noticed a few missing items that would have to be found.
“Let’s see what you got!” I hollered up into the long truck.
Margot’s head popped into view. “It’s the rugs!”
“Finally!” I pulled myself up into the trailer. “Let’s send them in by floor. That okay with you guys?” The delivery guys agreed, and Margot and I matched the rug to the room and sent them on their merry little way for the next hour.
Margot hopped down from the truck with an enthusiasm that I couldn’t even begin to match. “Be honest with me.”
“About what?” She helped me down.
“Is it cocaine? You snorting nose candy?”
She cackled and shoved me toward the door. “Cocaine? What is it? The eighties?”
“I wouldn’t know. I was born in eighty-seven.”
Margot’s mouth fell open with a choked laugh. “You know what?”
Suddenly, the familiar pops of gunfire echoed down the alley. On instinct, I pushed Margot to the ground behind the truck’s massive wheels.
“Are those gunshots?” Margot shrieked under me.
“Yes! Stay down.”
She drew her hands over her head, and I tucked my face in her neck. The shots grew closer, and suddenly more gunfire sounded from in front of the truck. Margot’s body shook under me, so I hugged her tighter.
The street went quiet, and the scuffing of shoes running down the alley toward us had me pushing Margot under the truck and crawling on my belly behind her. A set of shiny black shoes stepped right in our eye line. Margot’s lips parted, and I clamped my hand over her mouth with a terse head shake.
“Sasha?”
My body sagged in relief. “Frankie?”
His face replaced his shoes. “Oh, thank God. Get out from under there.”
I crawled out, but Margot didn’t follow. Peering under the tailgate, I felt ill. Margot was curled up in the fetal position, silently shaking.
I cursed under my breath and looked up at Frankie. He shrugged, his eyes darting to the street.