“Your arrogance never fails to astound me,” he replies in a droll tone.
“You’re not the first person to tell me that today,” I admit, and Charlie snorts. Silence descends for a few beats. “It’s okay,” I tell my contact. “Barron is with me, and he’s about to find out everything.”
“Good. That’s good. It’s long overdue.”
“Don’t have a fucking clue who you are, but you talk sense,” Charlie says as I navigate along the bumpy driveway, maneuvering around potholes and bits of the old fence that litter our way.
“Ezra is my PI and personal hacker,” I explain, turning the windshield wipers on as the heavens open, tipping sheets of rain from the sky.
“I want to be there when you tell Daniels, Hunt, and Anderson.” Charlie chuckles.
“They will never know,” I say in a clipped tone, casting a quick glance at my buddy. “You promised you’d keep this confidential.”
“And I will.”
“I mean it, Charlie. I’m not dragging anyone else into this. It’s too fucking dangerous.” I take a sharp left at the end of the bumpy road, driving more smoothly along the tree-lined lower part of the driveway now we’re on asphalt.
“I don’t agree, but I gave you my word. I won’t say anything to the others. The only people who will know are me and Demi.”
Charlie has changed so much. There was a time he was as secretive and stubborn as me. I’m still shocked he tells his wife everything.
I wonder what it’d be like to not have to hold anything back. To have someone accept you and love you completely knowing every dark broken part of you.
“I’ve got another call to make,” Ezra says as we approach the front of the old run-down hotel. “What do you need?”
“Find out everything you can on Athena Lewis. She runs AMC Solutions. And find out if there is any connection between her and Belinda Markham or Walter Grant.”
“Leave it with me.” He hangs up as I drive around the side of the sprawling three-story once plush stately home that was converted to a hotel fifty years ago. At one time, it was a sought-after destination for rich socialites, obnoxious celebrities, and elite assholes with money to burn.
“Who is Athena Lewis?”
“The second person who called me arrogant today. As well as a misogynistic prick with a self-proclaimed superiority complex.”
Charlie chuckles again. “I like her already. When can I meet her?” He is typing on his cell while keeping one eye on me, watching as I pull the red fob out of the glove compartment.
“She’s no one,” I say, driving into the covered parking lot attached to the back of the building.
“She’s clearly someone if you’re ordering intel on her.”
“She’s someone I crossed paths with who has raised suspicion. I don’t like to leave any stone unturned.” I drive deep into the parking lot, slowing down as we approach the fake wall I had installed shortly after I bought this place.
Charlie whistles under his breath. “She’s gorgeous.” He stabs me with a look. “And blonde.”
I glance at his phone, spotting the AMC Solutions logo on the top of the page he’s perusing. “What’s that got to do with anything?” I ask, coming to a stop in front of the apparent dead end.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Lifting his head, he pockets his phone and stares at me.
“Don’t read into it, and this isn’t the time.” I press the fob and the wall starts to rise.
Charlie blinks repeatedly as he watches the wall lift revealing the hidden part behind it. “What the hell is this place, Drew?”
“Mission central.” I drive forward into the remodeled modern parking lot and park in between two black vans. I press the fob again, and the wall-like shutter closes behind us.
Charlie doesn’t say anything else as we climb out, silently following me as I flip on a flashlight and open the side door. I haven’t reactivated any of the power in the main part of the hotel because it needs to look derelict so it doesn’t draw attention. He walks at my side as we stride along the dark, chilly hallway, inspecting the paint peeling from the walls and the threadbare dirty carpet under our feet.
“This must have been something else in it’s heyday,” he says when we emerge from the dank hallway into the wide lobby.
Italian porcelain tiles that were once white and gold cover the entire floor, barely visible underneath a layer of grime and debris. Overhead, the original ornate chandelier still presides over the magnificent room coated in a layer of dust and an abundance of cobwebs. Behind the old reception desk, a gold-framed mirror dangles precariously on the wall, tipped down on one side, the mirrored element rusted and cracked. Velvet couches and glass coffee tables are dotted around the space, broken and sharing the same general air of neglect as the rest of the space. The pièces de résistance are the wide sweeping staircases on either side of the desk, curling upward to the next level. The traditional-style gold banisters are in better condition than the rest of the hotel.
