“I would really prefer to deliver them myself.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”
“I understand. But will you please ring him right now to let him know that they’re coming?”
Sharona let out an exasperated sigh and waved the security guard away. He retook his post by the front door, apparently content that Will, the English threat, was gone.
Sharona’s ultralong nails clicked away at her keyboard and she was back on the phone. I could hear the shrill ringing as she cradled the receiver. I stood up on my tiptoes and whispered the word “bathroom.”
Sharona rolled her eyes and jabbed one clawed fingernail a little too close to my left ear, but I got the gist. I slid the envelope in my pocket and beelined across the foyer toward the restrooms.
I was pacing outside the ladies’ room when Will came up to me, smiling broadly. “That was brilliant, love, really.”
“Did you see the computer screen?”
“Three thirty-seven. Thanks for getting security off my back, too.”
“Next time, let me do the talking.”
We took the stairs and I was huffing by the time we reached the third floor. I assumed it was the altitude and helped myself to a chocolate off the maid’s cart as we counted off the rooms.
“Here we are, room 337,” Will said.
“Okay.”
We stood and stared at each other. “Okay, what?” Will asked.
“Knock.”
Will rapped on the door and we stood, waiting, silent.
Nothing happened. I pressed my ear to the door.
“Do you hear anything?” Will asked.
I shook my head. “Well, that was a big waste.”
“Not at all.” Will threw on that charming, sheepish grin, which he did so well, and strolled down to the maid who was locking up room 341.
“Hi there. My wife and I are here on our second honeymoon”—he looked over his shoulder at me and I gaped, wondering how he could muster a bashful blush on command—“and we seemed to have locked ourselves out of our room. It’s our first time here, and we’re just so excited to see the city.”
The woman looked around Will at me and I nodded quickly, feeling my ponytail bobbing.
“We’re from the UK,” Will continued.
“Yes, yes,” I said, coming closer to Will and pouring on my Madonna/Gwyneth faux English accent. “I thought I had the key in the boot, but the hubby here thinks we left it in the room when we went out for a pint.”
Will looked at me. “Cut it out,” he whispered.
“Blimey,” I continued, slapping a palm to my forehead. “I’d forget me head if it weren’t attached to me shoulders, that I would.”
The maid said nothing, but slipped her keycard into the lock. The little green light flashed and Will pushed open the door, smiling gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Pip-pip,” I called, waving.
Will pushed me into Harley’s room and slammed the door behind us. “‘Pip-pip’?” he mocked. “‘Blimey’? Where the hell did you get your English?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I was playing along, asshat. And now I’m wondering why.”
“What do you mean?”
I flicked on the light and Harley’s hotel room looked like every other hotel room in the Mark Hopkins hotel— elegant, lushly appointed, without a blood-written message alerting us to the room owner’s murderous desires.
“We’re here in Harley’s room. You know who’s not here? Harley. He’s probably out killing Nina as we speak.”
“This was your idea, love.”
I slumped on the bed. “I guess I didn’t really consider what would happen if we didn’t find Harley.”
“What were you planning if we would have found him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Citizen’s arrest. Mythical ass kicking. Maybe get him vanquished by those sisters on
Will sat down next to me and slung an arm over my shoulders; then handed me his cell phone. “There’s only one way to find out if Nina is safe tonight.”
I took the phone and dialed Nina’s, counting the rings.
“Wait a second,” Will said, ears pricking. “Listen.”
I pulled the phone from my ear and cocked my head. “Nina’s phone is ringing in stereo.”
“Wait a second,” I heard, “it’s my roommate.”
Will and I looked at each other. Nina’s voice was muffled, slightly. “Let me just turn this off,” Nina said.
The dial tone droned in my ear. “She just turned me off!”
Before I could continue my tirade, Will grabbed me by the wrist and hurled me to the floor.
“What—”
He clamped a hand over my mouth—hard—and slid with me under the bed. It was then I heard the lock jiggle and Nina’s voice came closer.
“They’re here!” I hissed in Will’s ear.
“Way to get in the game,” Will whispered back.
I watched Nina’s elegant heels walk across the surprisingly plush carpet; then I watched Harley’s polished wingtips follow. There was some murmured conversation; by the cadence and tone Harley and Nina were exchanging some grossly sexual banter. I looked at Will; my lip curled into a disgusted snarl. He waggled his eyebrows at me. If the intent was to be suggestive, it missed the mark and lodged securely in “ew.”
My ear pricked when I heard Nina’s voice drop into her singsong, sexy, sweet sound—the one usually reserved for big fangs and large favors. I pressed my forefinger in front of my lips, should Will decide to talk.
“Listen,” I mouthed.
“Harley, sweetie,” Nina said while I watched her press up onto her tiptoes. “I’m so thirsty.”
Will looked at me. Even under the faint, dusty light of the bed skirt, I could see that he was clearly alarmed. Frankly, so was I.
“Well, maybe we should see what we’ve got in the minibar,” Harley said, his voice deep and sexy.
“Oh, sweetie. You know what I’m really thirsty for?”
I felt a hot wire split down my spine. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My own roommate gone rogue? My heart thumped painfully, and my fingers curled into the carpet. I gripped down to the studs.
“I just have this absolute craving”—Nina’s voice was a slow, seductive drawl—“for a French 75.”
Even from under the bed, the dumb-dog smile was evident on Harley’s face.
“Oh, yeah? What happens in a French 75?”
“It’s a cocktail, silly.”
Harley’s “oh” sounded crushed.
I watched Nina’s pointy-toed shoes move closer to Harley’s shiny ones, and I guessed she was pressing her body up against him in that way she had, snaking her arms around his neck, lips brushing his ear.
“I would do anything for a French 75. Be a dear and get me one.”
Harley broke toward the phone. “Let me call room service.”
“No”—there was an audible pout—“that will take too long. Run downstairs for me, sweetie? I would be so happy.” Harley didn’t answer and Nina drawled on. “And it would give me some time to freshen up.”
Will and I exchanged relieved looks when we heard the quick smack of Harley’s lips on Nina’s; we watched his wingtips hightail it for the door.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?”
“Aghhh!” Will and I both shrieked at the two coal black eyes that glared at us from under the dust ruffle. Will must have tried to make a break for it, because the next thing I heard was the unmistakable thunk of skull on box spring and Will grumbling while his hand massaged his forehead. “Son of a bitch.”
“Both of you perverts, out of there. Now.”
