Tonight, I’m not breaking into Leeva’s aunt and uncle’s house, though, where the security system can be compromised fairly easily. Tonight, I’m breaking into Leeva’s room at the Empress Hotel, where the security system is next-level in order to protect their patrons from…well, people like me. Criminals, thieves, and stalkers targeting the hotel’s rich and illustrious guests.
And to think Leeva is among that list is hard to comprehend. But I’m not here for her wealth; I’m here for the woman herself.
You still don’t know if the woman is actually Leeva. Kathryn Wentzellcouldjust be her uncanny look-alike, my brain tries to reason.
But I know it’s her.
And not because I need it to be her, or because, for the past decade, I’ve been living a shell of my former existence, refusing to search for her because I knew she was better off anywhere other than here, being Guerilla’s old lady and in the city which had brought her so much pain. And now that she’s back, I feel like I’m returning from the land of the living dead, and I refuse to lose her again.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts and get my head in the game, I approach the door to Leeva’s hotel room, not glancing around or doing anything that might look suspicious. Instead, I act like this is exactly where I belong.
I knew Leeva would request a room with a direct line of sight to the Golden Gate Bridge, which narrowed the options to the ones on the curved corner of the hotel with the full view. Even with having money now, I knew she wouldn’t choose the penthouse, but she also wouldn’t go for the lower floors, where someone could easily scale up onto the balcony. That left three floors of corner rooms as the options. I had eliminated two by seeing couples coming and going from those.
To actually get into the hotel room, I have a genius little device that Digits created. He doesn’t know I have it, of course. Earlier today, I went up into his tower to apologize for punching him and hadborrowedit and a few other things then.
I always carry the jamming device—same as every Council member—so I can block security cameras and electronic signals wherever I need, like I’m doing now. The device that I stole from Digits will clone the electronic lock on Leeva’s hotel room door.That way, I’ll have continued, unrestricted access to her room, even if she gets the keycard reprogrammed.
My biggest concern is that she’ll hear the sound as the door unlocks or opens and closes. She hasn’t left the hotel, and I’ve waited until it’s late, so she should be asleep, and I’m hoping she still sleeps like the dead, like when she was younger.
There’s no question that what I’m doing is stupid as fuck, but I’m still doing it. Without hesitation.
The hotel room is quiet and dark when I unlock the door and slip inside. I stay still, listening for any sounds to indicate she’s awake and alarmed, but I’m only met with silence.
The room is pitch-black, and I reach into my bag to pull out the night-vision goggles. I’m briefly thrown back to memories from my Marine days, but I push those away because I’m on an entirely different mission tonight. I’m not following orders from my superiors—Ash, my superior now, would kick my ass and tie me up in the Cell for my own safety—nor am I doing something for the greater good as I had with the Marines.
No, tonight I’m doing something solely for me.
Once I turn on the night-vision goggles and the room comes into view in grainy green, I realize it’s not a single hotel room but a suite with a living area and a separate bedroom. The bedroom door is open, and there’s still no noise to indicate Leeva is awake or aware I’m here.
Reaching into my bag, I pull out a bandana and cover the bottom portion of my face in case she wakes while I’m here. I’m not ready for her to know that I’m her masked wolf from Hedon or for her to come face-to-face with Hayes, either.
The living room of the suite has high-end furniture, blown-glass lamps, and expensive art on the walls. While it’s blowing my mind that Leeva is living in this lap of luxury, it makes sense since she married a business tycoon.
Rage fills me at the thought of someone having her and claiming her as his wife. It’s bad enough to think of her as Guerilla’s old lady, even if it was for a short time before everything went to hell.
But how did she meet Luthor Wentzell? Why did she marry him? Did she love him? Or with the twenty-five-plus-year age gap, was she just looking for a cushy life and seduced an older man?
Both my mind and body instantly reject that traitorous thought. Leeva is no gold digger. Not my little dove.
But she’s not pure and innocent any longer, remember? She was at Hedon last night.
My body experiences the contradictory reactions it’s had all day whenever I think about that. Potent, toxic lust, coupled with wild disbelief and slight disgust at myself for defiling her innocence.
On its heels is the persistent thought that she came to the club voluntarily. And if she hadn’t admitted that this was her first time in a club like Hedon, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to control my fury.
This woman isn’t Leeva; she can’t be. There’s no tattoo…not even a scar, my mind argues, still resisting.
After visiting Digits earlier, I also went to see Tats at Havoc Rebel Ink, his tattoo shop. Without giving anything away, I asked for his expert knowledge about tattoo removal. According to him, it’s very rare for anyone to not have at least some kind of mild scarring, discoloration, or change in skin texture.
The woman from last night had smooth, unblemished skin. Even when I touched it, there was no feel of scarring underneath.
Another reason I went to see Tats was that Len had mentioned skin prosthetics, and I had Tats mix a solution to dissolve the glue or adhesive used for them. He gave me a strange look, butI didn’t explain, and he knew better than to ask, since I outrank him. I have that solution with me tonight.
Pushing away all the thoughts rioting in my head, I focus on my mission: to determine if Kathryn Wentzell, widow of Luthor Wentzell, is indeed Leeva Malone, my pure and innocent dove and best friend.
I move silently through the suite’s living room. My former training officers would be proud to know that my stealth skills are still sharp and on point. I pause to listen at the bedroom door, but the only sound is her deep, rhythmic breathing.
Stepping into the room, I see her sleeping on the bed. The heavy curtains are closed over the window, and the sheets are tangled around her. Her dark hair fans around her, and she’s completely naked.
