Page 39 of Choosing Stella

“That’s what it looks like.”

Stella wrapped both hands around her water glass until her knuckles went pale.

I remembered the way she’d said no current threats earlier.

I wanted to ask, but I didn’t.

Instead I pointed toward the hallway.

“You can lock your room. Nobody comes through the exterior doors without me knowing. If you want to shower, sleep, pace for an hour, or sit with the lights on, do it. You don’t need permission.”

She raised her eyes to mine.

“And if I want to leave?”

“Tell me first so I can explain why I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“That isn’t the same as stopping me.”

“No.”

Stella was quiet for a moment.

“Okay.”

I picked up my water.

The men had come with restraints and a loaded syringe.

They’d come prepared to take Stella alive.

Across the table, THE EXCHANGE — SECURITY was stamped on the device they’d dropped.

It didn’t identify who had sent them.

The first hard clue to the grab carried the mark of Bellacorte’s own security operation.

Chapter Three

I locked the bedroom door behind me and kept my hand on the thumb turn until the metal stopped moving.

Everything was quiet.

It wasn’t apartment quiet, with traffic below the windows and neighbors somewhere beyond the walls. This place held the hollow stillness of an old industrial building after dark. Air moved softly through a vent near the ceiling. Somewhere beyond the door, Geo was doing whatever a six-foot-four security professional did when the woman he was protecting disappeared into a bedroom and locked him out.

Apparently, he let her.

I let go of the thumb turn.

My overnight bag sat on the narrow bench at the foot of the bed. I pulled out a black T-shirt and soft charcoal pants, then changed out of the clothes I’d worn through the attack. My shirt wasn’t torn. My leggings weren’t stained. There wasn’t any blood on me.

I still shoved everything into the bottom of the bag.

In the bathroom across the hall, I’d washed my hands twice before coming in here. I could still remember the syringe skidding across the floor, the restraints beside it, and a man’s hand closing around my jacket.

I pressed my palms against my thighs.

The knob never moved.