Stranded With The Suspect. Cindi Myers

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       Chapter Three

      Simon paced the length of the hotel room, too unsettled to sit still. When he had booked the room, he had imagined using it as a base to keep an eye on Andi’s suite, but the layout was all wrong. He couldn’t see her door clearly from here, and the walls were too thick, the carpeting too plush, for him to hear anyone approaching.

      Under other circumstances, he could have worked with hotel security to set up a surveillance camera to monitor her door. But that kind of thing took warrants—and it took time. Time Simon didn’t have.

      Metwater was running, and he was desperate. Maybe he would leave town, or even leave the country and forget about Andi altogether, but Simon didn’t think so. For one thing, he didn’t have the resources he would need to make a getaway. For another, he had already proven he didn’t like loose ends or unfinished business. He had hidden Andi away here—or thought he had—when the Rangers began closing in. He didn’t want the cops talking to her.

      And Metwater would know that Andi’s twenty-fifth birthday was only a few days away. Once her trust—several million dollars—passed to her, he could use his power over her to control the funds. A man as greedy as Metwater wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to have that kind of money.

      Simon had the Russian to consider too. He had seen the man leave the hotel, but he could have easily circled around and come back in through another entrance. Though the man hadn’t directly threatened Andi, Simon couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a danger to her.

      Not on my watch, Simon thought, and stepped back into the hallway. He could station himself outside Andi’s doorway as a guard, but Metwater would see him and avoid approaching. That might keep Andi safe, but it wouldn’t trap Metwater. Simon wanted to stop the Prophet before he hurt anyone else. That meant staying hidden and getting the jump on him when he did approach.

      He scanned the hallway, his gaze coming to rest on a recess that housed a decorative plant. A real plant, he noted as he squeezed in behind it, not a silk one. The space was cramped and uncomfortable, but he settled in as best he could, gun drawn, eyes focused on the doorway to Andi’s room and the hallway leading up to it.

      The events of the past two days dragged at him—the rescue of Hunter Munson, the search for Michelle and Ethan, their safe return and then the long drive to Denver to get to Andi before Metwater could reach her. He fought sleep by focusing on the Russian. Where did he fit into the picture? Metwater’s twin brother had supposedly been murdered—rather, assassinated—by the Bratva, the Russian mob, though the Chicago police had never found enough evidence to formally charge anyone with the crime. The case was still open.

      When Russians had shown up in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and two people associated with them had ended up dead, Daniel Metwater had panicked and demanded protection from the Ranger Brigade, though he would never say why he thought the Russians were after him. The Russians turned out to be part of a smuggling ring that was trying to move into the park, and not after Metwater at all, but the cool, sophisticated mask of the Prophet had slipped for those few days, allowing Simon to see how frightened he really was.

      Did he know the blond Russian was asking about him—possibly looking for him? Or was the man, as he had said, merely someone who had met Andi before who wanted to renew the acquaintance? After all, she was a very attractive woman—her pregnancy didn’t detract at all from her beauty.

      The elevator opened and a man in hotel livery stepped out, carrying a tray. He moved past Simon without noticing him, head down, a bored employee on the late shift, with hours to go before he got off work. He approached the door and knocked, and after a moment it opened and he stepped inside.

      Simon waited. One minute. Two. How long did it take to deliver a tray, collect the tip and leave? His heart started racing, anxiety knotting his stomach. Something about the waiter wasn’t right. Something about the way he walked was a little too familiar. His blood went cold as he realized why.

      He exploded from behind the plant and raced for Andi’s room, praying he wasn’t already too late.

      * * *

      GONE WAS THE SERENE, confident Prophet who had mesmerized Andi so. The man before her was unshaven and dirty beneath the clean clothes he must have taken from the real room service waiter, his hair greasy and smelling of sweat. She tried to pull out of his grasp. “Let go, you’re hurting me!” she protested.

      He released her, but his attitude didn’t soften. “Call for a taxi. Tell the driver to meet you across the street, in front of the bank. What have you got that I can wear? And I need a scarf for my hair. I’ll be your sister, visiting from Grand Junction.”

      “Daniel, wait! What’s going on?”

      “You’re going to help me get out of here, that’s what’s going on,” he said.

      “What about Starfall, and that cop—Ethan? And Starfall’s baby, Hunter? Did you really try to hurt them?” She hadn’t meant to say anything about any of that, but the words tumbled out. Simon and Michelle had planted all these doubts in her head and she needed the Prophet to allay her fears.

      “Who have you been talking to?” He turned on her, rage contorting his face, and before she could draw back he hit her, hard, snapping her head back and leaving her cheek stinging.

      She gasped, tears filling her eyes. No one had ever hit her before—no one. “Shut up and get moving,” Metwater said. “Or I’ll make you wish you’d obeyed me when you had the chance.”

      He turned back toward the door, but it burst open. Simon Woolridge didn’t hesitate; he hit Metwater hard, dropping him to his knees. He pulled flexi-cuffs from his belt and reached for the Prophet’s wrist. “Daniel Metwater, you are under arrest.”

      Metwater shook his head and rose up with a roar, shoving Simon backward. Andi screamed.

      “Get out of here!” Simon shouted at her. “Go to the lobby, where you’ll be safe.”

      “No.” She couldn’t leave him. For that matter, she couldn’t leave the Prophet. She had to stay and see how this played out.

      Metwater lunged at Simon, swinging hard. Simon dodged the punch, but crashed into an end table, sending it toppling. The Tiffany-style lamp that had been sitting on it slid to the floor and shattered into a kaleidoscope of bright shards. Andi screamed again and looked around for anything she could use to defend herself. Simon staggered to his feet, reaching for the gun in the holster at his side. A vision of him shooting the Prophet filled her head. “No!” she sobbed, and started toward him.

      He turned at the СКАЧАТЬ