He earned every damn dollar.
I charge inside to the main desk, the others flanking my side, and pull a picture of Erin up on my phone. The receptionist looks at my screen and then me.
“Is there a problem here, gentleman?”
“This is my girlfriend,” I say, the words coming out strained and fighting their way through. “She’s my everything.” The words burn as I say them, because it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said. “I think she’s here and is in danger. If anything happens to her, I won’t survive. So, I need your help. Have you seen her?”
The woman responds gently. “She’s been here. She was panicked when she showed up. Eighth floor, room 1364. I’ll call emergency services and have the cops sent up.” She hands me a key and then picks up the phone. “Go. Find your girl.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We move fast. Rudy and Hayes hit the stairs. I take the elevator. Austin and Oliver hang back in the lobby to wait for the cops to arrive.
The elevator climbs slowly, clearly unaware that I’m in a rush. My reflection in the chrome doors looks back at me. I’m a stranger, eyes wild and fists clenched.
Ding.
The doors open.
I’m out and running, scanning the room numbers as I go.
1358.
1359.
1360.
“Stop lying!”
A bolt of pure violence shoots through my veins as the words come from down the hall. My body moves before my mind catches up. I pump my arms faster, sprinting down the corridor. My calves burn as I pass closed doors.
“You stupid little bitch.”
I draw the keycard and swipe.
“Tell me who knows!”
I slam into the room.
Clarissa Rose whips her head around to face me, eyes wide. She snarls and bolts for the door closest to her, which is probably to the room next to us so she can safely escape.
The door slams, the click-clack of her heels fading as my gaze locks on the bastard pinning Erin against the wall, one hand around her throat. Her shoes scrape helplessly against the floor, desperate for ground she can’t find.
Pain surges up my arm as I barrel into him. His breath leaves him in a grunt. Erin hits the floor gasping for air.
My fist crashes into his jaw and then his stomach. He falls into a pile of stacked chairs that topple over him, the harsh clatter echoing.
“Sweetheart, look at me.” I crouch beside her, my hands searching for where the blood is coming from. My eyes flick back to her abuser. The chairs aren’t going to keep him down for long. I need to get her out of here, but I also need to be ready for him.
“Griff,” she rasps. My head snaps to her. “She said she had Griff.”
“He’s fine, baby. Let’s get you out of here.” I clasp her hand, lifting her carefully.
Her gaze shifts over my shoulder, and her eyes widen.
“No!” she screams, shoving her small body in front of mine.
BANG!
