They left and I turned my attention back to the crowd. Or I tried to. But something about her kept nagging at me. I pulledout my phone and looked at the camera feed for the parking lot. She was holding his hand and briskly leading him toward the road.
I shoved my phone into my pocket. I didn’t need to see any more. Since I knew he was staying at Charli’s, I assumed they were going back to his room.
Two minutes later, I was on my phone again, looking up the room assignments to see which room he was in. I didn’t know his name, but Charli only had three rooms occupied because of the approaching storm. It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was.
Hugh French.
Room four.
Room. Four.
It hit me like a fucking battering ram.
Hugh was staying in room four the night I was stabbed.
And she was the bitch who stabbed me.
That was why I couldn’t stop watching her at the bar. I’d been watching her on the security footage from the night I was stabbed for weeks. Her movements were familiar.
I was so sure it was her I jumped to my feet and hauled ass across the street without a word to anyone.
When I arrived at room four, the door wasn’t completely closed. I pushed it open a little more and listened.
“I was one of the mermaids at Hannah’s party. She told me about you. I had a bad uncle too. I sliced his throat. But I wanted to make sure he was dead, so I stabbed him. Again and again and again.” There was a brief pause, followed by a sigh of disappointment. “Damn. My uncle died before I finished stabbing him too.”
Pushing the door fully open, I filled the doorway and watched her climb off the bed. With her wig in one hand and a knife in the other, she turned toward the door, freezing when she saw me. “Going somewhere, stabby?”
Her eyes widened in fear as she sucked in a sharp breath. I could almost feel her heart pounding as panic washed over her. My prey was cornered, and it was delicious.
Pushing off the door frame, I stalked toward her. Admittedly, I was conflicted. I wanted to make her pay for stabbing me, and she needed to answer for killing one of Charli’s guests. But it was fucking hot when she squared up with me. I’d never had toughandunhinged. I briefly wondered if we could fuck before I called the club.
All thoughts of her sweet ass vanished when she charged at me—with a fucking knife. I didn’t have time to react, but there weren’t many options. Bending down, I used her momentum to toss her over my shoulder. She hit the floor with a thud, and the knife clattered to the ground. Before I could turn and grab her, she was on her feet and out the door.
Not a-fucking-gain.
“Stop!” I roared and ran after her.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to go far. Bean had her in a bear hug a few feet down the hall. She was fighting and kicking for all she was worth. I grabbed her legs, and we carried her back into room four.
“What the fuck is going on?” Bean demanded. Then he got a look at Hugh in the bed and put it all together in seconds. “It was her.”
“Yeah it fucking was,” I spat. Regardless of how hot I found her psycho routine to be, she stabbed me, and I couldn’t walk for a week. Then she tried to do it again.
“You call Whisker?”
“Not yet. I will as soon as she’s secured.”
Bean chuckled. “Don’t want her to get away again.”
“She’s slippery. Do you have anything?” I asked, knowing he did. Bean always kept some paracord on him for a variety of reasons—one being in case he needed to restrain someone.
“I’m always prepared.”
We traded positions, and he quickly secured her hands and feet. Then I tossed her onto the bed beside Hugh. The disgusted sound she made was comical.
“We don’t have a gag handy,” I told her. “So, you can keep your mouth shut, or I can break your jaw. It’s up to you.”
She nodded once and kept her mouth shut. I was surprised and a little disappointed that she complied so easily.
