From Manhattan with Revenge (The Fourth Book in the Fifth Avenue Series) (4 page)

“They came.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

“What happened?”

“They asked for you. I told them that you
left. They said that was impossible. I told them you returned five minutes
after your husband left and that you probably went to find him.”

“Did they buy it?”

“I don’t know. But they left. And I have
this for you.” He held out a card for her. It was a key to a room. “Follow me.”

* * *

“We’ll use the service elevators,” he said
as they pushed through the swinging doors. They went to the rear of the
kitchen, crossed through another set of doors, and came upon a bank of
elevators. “These are used for room service. We can access any room from here.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate
this.”

He pressed a button. “My mother went
through the same sort of shit with my father. I was too young to do anything
about it. I’m glad to help.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

The doors slid open and they stepped
inside. He pressed the button marked
29
, the doors whisked shut, and the
elevator started its ascent.

“The room wasn’t free,” she said. “I plan
to pay for it.”

“Actually, it is free. I had it comped for
you. I told them that I spilled a drink on you and that you asked for a room so
you could clean up. We’re not full. It’s not a big deal. They’ll treat this like
any check-in. You’ll need to be out by noon tomorrow.”

“I’ll be long gone by then,” Carmen said.

The elevator slowed. The doors slid open
and they stepped into a small waiting area before they turned into a warmly lit
hallway.

Her room was at the far end of the hall.
When they reached it, he slid the key into the slot, unlocked the door, and
they stepped inside. Carmen was expecting something nice—it was the
Waldorf, after all—but she wasn’t expecting a corner suite with two
stunning views of the city.

She went over to the windows and looked
down at Park, where traffic was light. At some point, it had started to rain.
The streets were shiny and bright. Jake’s face flashed before her eyes.

Where are you?
she
wondered.

“The bathroom is through there,” Jon said.
“You’ll find a robe and toiletries. Extra pillows are in this closet. I also
comped you on room service, so if you’re hungry in the morning, indulge
yourself. Get the blinis with caviar. You won’t regret it.”

“You’re very kind,” she said.

“It was my pleasure, Carmen.”

“Would you like a drink? I’m sure there’s
something in the fridge.” She went to the small refrigerator that was tucked
beneath the work desk and opened it. “And there is. They have everything. Would
you care to join me? Vodka?”

He walked over to the door and put his
hand on the doorknob. “I should be leaving.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve probably
been on your feet for hours.”

She smiled as she crossed the distance
between them. She looked into his blue eyes and was about to shake his hand
when she reached up, grabbed each side of his head, and jerked it so sharply
his neck broke.

There was no struggle. Just surprise in
his eyes before they became dilated with death. He slumped forward and fell
hard at her feet. His legs quivered for a moment, a rush of air escaped his
lungs, and then he went still.

She looked down at him. “I never told you
my name, Jon, so they must have told you. And that means they also know where I
am.” She shook her head at him. “What a waste. Are they waiting for you
downstairs? Of course, they are. I bet they’re waiting for you to return so you
can bring them up here. Then you’d be expecting the rest of the money they
promised you. That’s where you weren’t thinking. You’ve seen their faces.
Already, you know too much. They would have killed you even if I hadn’t. Then
they’d leave here with me.”

She put her hand in her coat pocket, felt
the Glock, and edged open the door. No one in the hallway. The service
elevators were straight ahead of her, but they were at the opposite end of the
hall.

She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she
needed to leave before they came on their own. She pulled Jon’s keys out of his
pants pocket, left the room, and started moving quickly toward the elevators,
listening for any sign of someone coming her way. On one level, she wished that
was the case. That way, she could take the stairs, bypass them, and grab
another elevator on another floor.

But they were waiting for him. They needed
him—at least for now. How long would they wait before they decided
something was wrong? Ten minutes? Fifteen? If she were them, that’s how long
she’d wait. Then she’d worry. Then she’d act.

At the service elevator they’d been in
earlier, she tried three keys from his keychain before she found the correct
one, turned it in the lock, and was able to press the down button. The doors
slid open, suggesting that no one had used the elevator since they left it. She
stepped inside and pressed
K
for kitchen. The elevator plunged.

She tried to still her nerves, but it was
difficult. How would she get out of here? Some of them would be waiting in the
bar area, while others would be guarding the building’s exits. She looked up at
the dial and her mind raced while the floors sped by. Soon, she’d be next to a
room filled with kitchen staff. If they saw her, they wouldn’t just question
why she was there again. They’d also want to know why she wasn’t with Jon. What
would she say if someone asked? Worse, because Jon had escorted her so quickly
through the kitchen, her scan of the place was too brief to see if there were
any cameras tucked in the corners. She didn’t know if she was about to be on
surveillance or not, but if there were cameras in the kitchen and depending on
where they were located, she could be.

The elevator slowed. The doors slid open
to the sounds of talking, laughter, the clatter of trays, and the clinking of
glassware and silverware. With the bar and restaurant closed, the atmosphere
was more relaxed than it had been before. The evening was winding down.

Just outside the elevator, she looked up
at the ceiling for a camera, but there was none. At least not there. The
kitchen was something altogether different. She knew there were cameras in
there somewhere. There had to be. The moment she entered that kitchen to
escape, she would be recorded as she tried to leave unnoticed. Not that it
mattered much. She had walked through the kitchen earlier. They already had her
on tape.

She held the elevator doors open and
looked left, saw her first obstacle, and also noted how fleeting her anonymity
would be.

The doors to the service elevators were
now open. The interior room was no longer private.

A man standing at a stainless steel table
with a butcher knife in his hand looked up at her. Medium height. Blondish
hair. Maybe forty. On the muscular side.

In spite of the kitchen noise, he must
have heard the elevator doors slide open. He was wearing a white uniform
spattered with blood. The ends of the sleeves were wet with it. On his head was
a tall chef’s hat. It was pristine in ways that the rest of him wasn’t.

On the table were several long tubes of
whole filets encased in plastic wrap. To his left were stacks of freshly cut
steaks, unwrapped. Earlier, when Jon led her through the kitchen, she hadn’t
noticed him, so it was unlikely that he had any context of who she was or that
Jon had called out to the group that she was his girlfriend and that he was
helping her.

Their eyes met. There was a moment when it
appeared that he was going to put the knife down on the table. But he didn’t.
This was Manhattan, after all. To him, she was an intruder, someone who had no
business being here. So, why was she here? And how did she get inside that elevator
without the required key?

He came around the table with the knife at
his side and a questioning look on his face.

She stepped out of the elevator and moved
into the interior room.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

She put a finger to her lips, removed the
Glock from her coat pocket and pointed it at him. “Maybe,” she said. “Let’s
find out.”

CHA
PTER FIVE

She motioned for him to come inside the
room. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he took a long look at that gun and
decided that he better.

Carmen stepped back to minimize the chance
of being seen by others. “Back here,” she said. “With me.”

He moved closer.

“If you cooperate, I won’t kill you. If
you do something stupid, I’ll take everyone out.” She nodded at the butcher
knife. “Put it down.”

He hesitated, but then did as he was told.
He put it down on one of the empty carts next to him.

She looked beyond him into the kitchen. It
was only a matter of time before someone walked over and spotted them.

Move.

“I need a jacket like yours,” she said.
“Not clean. Filthy. And I’ll need a hat. Can you find something that will fit
me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“There’s a laundry chute in the locker
room. At the end of our shifts, we drop our whites into it.”

“Then step into the elevator. I’ll have to
use what you’re wearing.”

Here, just off the kitchen, a key wasn’t
necessary to open the elevator doors, so she pressed a button. The doors beside
her slid open. She cocked her head toward the empty elevator and he stepped
inside. She put her foot in front of the right door to block them from closing
while keeping her gun trained on him.

He took off his chef’s hat, then started
to unbutton his jacket, which went just above his knees. “It’s too large for
you,” he said.

“I’m not going for couture.”

That stopped him and he looked at her with
new eyes. For him, humor was unexpected in a situation such as this, but then
he didn’t know Carmen or how she viewed the world.

She started to twist her hair into a
chignon, which was difficult considering she was holding a loaded gun. Still,
she’d done it before and she did it now. It wasn’t exactly as neat as her
mother taught her when Carmen was a teen in Spain, but in this situation, it
would do.

He handed her the jacket, which had the
coppery scent of blood on it. “I assume you want the hat?” he asked.

“I do.”

He gave it to her.

“Step back,” she said.

He did and she slipped into the jacket. It
was huge on her, but she didn’t plan on being seen in it for long. With the gun
in her hand, she struggled with the buttons while also keeping an eye on him.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Don’t talk.”

“It’s a simple question.”

If she told him, it might keep him quiet
for another minute, which is all she needed. “There are people here who want to
kill me. I need a disguise that will get me out of here. This is as good as it
gets.”

“Who wants to kill you?”

“Does it matter?”

She put the hat on top of her head, but it
was too big. The bonus? It was made of paper. She took it off, folded a section
in the back, and ran her bloody sleeve inside the crease. She pressed down and
held it for a minute to make sure it would stick. It did, but for how long?
Blood was like glue, especially when it started to congeal. She felt it might
work, but who knew? There was no certainty in situations such as this. Gently,
she put the hat back on her head and this time, it fit.

“I might be able to help you,” he said.

“I had a similar offer tonight. Didn’t
work out.”

“Look, if someone here is trying to kill
you—”

She stepped forward and swung her gun at
him in an arc that was so swift, it connected the butt of her gun against the
side of his temple before he knew what hit him.

She could have killed him, but she didn’t
want to. Unlike Jon, he’d done nothing to betray her. He’d be able to identify
her, but so would the hotel’s security cameras, which were worse because of the
hard evidence they offered. She hadn’t seen any cameras, but that meant
nothing. She knew that somewhere during her time here, she’d been captured by
them.

She reached out and caught him as he fell.
She hit him just hard enough to knock him unconscious. She leaned him against
the corner of the elevator.

“You’ll be all right,” she said. “Take a
Tylenol when you wake up. Maybe three. And thanks for not making a scene. Most
would have.”

She turned to the panel behind her and
pressed the button that would take him to the forty-seventh floor. She stepped
out as the doors slid shut, she heard the elevator lift, and then she turned
her attention to the kitchen.