Page 4 of Under Fire in Big Sky

Swallowing the bitter taste filling his mouth, he flagged down a bellhop.

A young man hurried over with a luggage cart. “What room, sir?”

“Three twenty-four.”

In the elevator, Eli struck up a conversation but couldn’t focus. Everything the bellhop said was muted, with white noise roaring in his ears. Inside the spacious room, he gave the guy a generous tip.

“Thank you, sir.”

After the bellhop left, Eli locked the door.

Trudging into the bathroom, he tried to get his bearings. Olivia needed him with every cylinder firing. Too bad he didn’t have an inner pod person he could drag out.

Eli took off his hat and splashed cold water on his face. Grabbing a towel, he dried off and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. At thirty-four, he looked past his prime and felt the same. Joints creaked. Muscles ached. More gray hairs sprouted every week. Still, he ran five miles most days and hit the gym regularly.

A knock at the door had him tossing the towel on the counter.

“One minute.” Eli finger-combed his hair back. At the door, he looked through the peephole.

Room service. But he hadn’t ordered anything.

He opened the door.

A lanky man stood on the other side. Pale. Hazel eyes. Shaggy sandy-blond hair that was nearly brown pushed back behind his ears. An even shaggier beard covered his jaw. The name tag pinned to his vest read Kevin. “Is this Ms. Lane’s room?” the attendant asked, brow wrinkling as he took him in.

Eli stood at six-one. Most of his two hundred pounds was muscle. Not as much as there used to be but enough to make someone think twice when sizing him up. “Two rooms in her name. This is one of them. What’ve you got there?”

“Fruit platter.” The attendant pointed to the plate covered with a stainless-steel dome on the service cart. “And champagne.” He gestured to the bottle sitting in a bucket of ice, and Eli noticed a radio clipped on his belt. “Compliments of management. I can come back later with a fresh platter once she’s in her room. Would that be 326?”

A cold thread of alarm wriggled down Eli’s spine. “Bring it in here.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“I’ll make sure she gets it.” Eli stepped back, holding the door open. “No inconvenience.”

Pulling on a polite yet artificial smile, the attendant pushed the cart inside the room. He wore a white button-down shirt under the vest, black slacks, and gray hiking boots. Nothing odd about his apparel, but one thing stood out to Eli.

Since they arrived, he’d been called sir ad nauseam from the valet to the bellhop. But not this guy. Kevin hadn’t uttered a single “sir.”

“Put it on that side table near the window,” Eli said.

Kevin picked up both items and carried them over to the low table. As he bent over, setting them down, his vest rose in the back, exposing a gun tucked in his waistband.

It wasn’t unusual for folks in Montana to carry a weapon, but it was for hotel staff on duty unless they were security.

The fog clouding Eli’s brain evaporated. All cylinders were now firing hot.

Standing upright and turning around, Kevin tugged his vest down. “Enjoy your stay.”

Eli followed the man to the door. Once Kevin left, Eli waited a few seconds, then he lowered the handle, eased the door open, and peered into the corridor.

Kevin strode down the hall. The man unclipped the radio and clicked the button. “Lane wasn’t in the room.” His voice carried, but if not for the open door, the words would’ve been muffled. “What do I do?”

“She must be with Dempsey,” said a woman on the other end. “I’ll find her and contain her as planned.”

Icy fear slashed through Eli.

“Remember, she’s dangerous,” Kevin said.