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“You know what?” The first guy smiles. “On a vacation, there’s no such thing as time, is there? I’ll just stop by. Room 1676, right?” He stands up and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few twenties, and then a small, blue booklet. He opens it and sets it in front of me, revealing that it’s my fucking “misplaced” passport that Michael made for me. The one I now know never left the inner pocket of my damn duffle bag.
“I found that in your room the other day,” he says. “You really should be more careful with where you place things like that, if you ever consider leaving this country.”
As if he can tell that he’s rattled me, he takes one final look at my ring and smiles. “Hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Miss.”
His friend picks up the gun and tips his hat at me. Then they walk away, leaving me scared shitless.
The moment they’re out of the bar, I rush toward the back exit and to the front desk. I request an immediate room change, and the bellman eyes me suspiciously when I tell him that I’d rather move my things by myself.
I make it to my former room and start tossing all of my things into the duffle bag.
Right as I’m stuffing Michael’s letter into the side pocket, a loud knock comes to my door.
I stiffen and move to the closet, shutting the panel.
Another knock comes to the door, one that’s a lot louder, and I hold my breath.
Several seconds pass without a sound, but I don’t dare to make a move.
Just count to a million…
By the time I do risk moving, three hours have passed, and my legs are begging for a break.
Slowly stepping out of the closet, I walk over to the door and look through the peephole. Across from my suite is the same guy from the bar. He’s leaning against a grey Impala and smoking a cigar while two other guys at his side read a newspaper.
Swallowing, I stare at them for several minutes, and then I move away from the door and hope like hell that they’ll go away soon.
They don’t.
Meredith
Now
Hours later, the alarm clock reads 4:09 a.m., but I can’t bring myself to walk over to the door just yet. My heart is still racing like it’s on acid, and I haven’t been able to sit down for fear that I need to be ready to run.
The adrenaline running through my veins has caused me to sweat so profusely that my sundress is damp, and I have to keep swiping my palms against the mattress.
I wait until the clock reads 4:52 and finally force myself to make my way to the door. Holding my breath, I look through the peephole and see nothing.
The grey Impala is long gone and all the men who were there before are nowhere to be found.
Not trusting my own eyes, I walk over to the living room windows and slowly tilt the blinds. I look up and down the street, seeing nothing but darkness. The lanes of the resort are free and clear.
Grabbing my duffle bag, I step out of the room and make a run for the other side of the resort. I don’t look over my shoulder once. I keep running straight ahead, as fast as I can.
When I make it to the new building, I swipe my card against the room’s keypad and quickly shut myself inside.
Locking the chain on the door, I walk to the desk and pick up the phone.
“Puerto Vallas Resort,” a soft male voice says. “How may I help you?”
“I need your help in arranging some transportation to the airport.” The words rush out of my mouth.
“Right now, Miss?”
“Yes. Right now.”
“I can do that, but you’ll need to settle your room bill before you leave, Miss. You still owe for the last four nights.”
“I’ll pay it all in cash.” My voice is trembling. “Please call me a cab now. Please.”
“It won’t make one bit of a difference if I call, Miss…” His voice is suddenly softer. “I’m so very sorry.”
“What?” My heart drops. “What are you saying sorry for? Can’t you just—”
A series of loud knocks suddenly sound at the door, and I drop the phone to the ground.
The knocks come again, much harder and louder this time, and I move to the other side of the room. I’m wondering if I should risk hiding under the bed or jump out of the window, but I don’t get the chance to choose.
Something heavy pushes against the door and the lock falls right off. It swings open and I find myself face to face with the barrel of a gun, and—
Michael?
Glaring at me, he slams the door shut and lowers the gun.
We stand still staring at each other as tension and emotions quickly suffocate the room. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with all the pain and the confusion, with the twisted ass game in my chest that’s setting up a new, emotional tug-of-war.
