CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LIAM
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“Yes, sir.”The youngman in uniform at the desk scurries away to get a keycard sorted for the penthouse suite.I’m not surprised this prick is staying in the best suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel.He’s a big name in the movie industry.
I shift my weight from one leg to the other, glancing around the lobby.Ryder meets my eye, his gaze meant to comfort me with his presence, telling me he is here.That he gets it.
I already know the story about how he nearly lost Savannah.How he climbed her fence after hearing the gunshot.
He knows how it feels in this moment, waiting to get to the woman you love, knowing she is powerless and being harmed.
I glance at the law enforcement, equally grateful they are with us and frustrated because I won’t be able to put a bullet between Frank’s eyes.
“Take it easy,” Ryder says under his breath, and I realized I just growled.
Since when do I growl?
The young man returns and hands the officer the key.
“Let’s go,” he says, and we stride across the lobby to the elevator with three hotel security following.
“We don’t need an entourage,” I snarl at them.
“Hotel policy, we need to protect our guests,” the manager says, joining us.
The police look uninterested, instead focused on getting up to the room and finding Jessie.
As am I.
We climb into the elevator, make our way to the penthouse floor, then find a large private security guard standing outside.He leaps into action, pounding on the door, and that’s when everything happens.
The cops, me, and Ryder—we all fucking run.
Private Security Dude has the door open by the time we reach him, and the officers pile in, announcing their presence.
I push past them and freeze.
Standing in the living area, I can see into the bedroom, and my blood boils.
“Easy,” Ryder steps in and turns his back, holding his arms out so no one else goes near as Frank climbs off Jessie and starts flailing.
She’s tied to the fucking bed.
