I turn to the door, feeling along the wall for the light switch. My fingers catch on the hard plastic jutting out of the wall, and I switch it on, flickering pale light filling the musty interior of the hotel bathroom that I’m locked inside.
I turn to the hollow door and bang on it, not even bothering to try the handle. “Let me out,” I demand.
“You’re safer in there,” Carter’s deep voice replies form the other side.
“Fuck you. I’m not staying here,” I shout.
“Tough luck, sweetheart. You should’ve followed orders instead of acting like a spoiled brat,” he replies, his voice fading as he walks away from the door.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim, shocked and frustrated at his sudden change in attitude toward me. One minute he was on the edge of professing his love to me, and the next, he’s locking me in the bathroom to punish me for not getting him a damn cup of coffee.
Incredible!
I bang on the door, testing its strength while I let anger take control of my body. “I’m not staying in here, asshole. Let me out.”
I receive no answer.
“Fuck,” I mutter, stepping away from the door and looking around. There are no windows, no secret ventilation shafts tucked in the ceiling that I could squeeze myself through, no nothing. I can’t escape here unless I go through the door that Carter has locked. I don’t understand why he’s done this, but I don’t like it one bit.
I sit on the closed toilet, tapping my fingers against my jaw as I think up a way to escape. It’s not the first time I’ve been trapped before. I remember one time I was mistaken for a threat by security when wandered off too far from a cartel boss’s property while my father was paying him a visit, and I ended up tied up in the garage for two hours while they tried to figure out who I was. I didn’t manage to escape, however. I had to have my father come and explain who I was before they let me go.
Well, Carter already knows who I am, and my father is no longer alive to rescue me. I’m cold despite the heat outside, I’m sleepy from lunch, and I’m anxious because of Carter’s mood swings. He’s allowed to get annoyed, we all do, but this is taking things too far. I’m an adult, and I expect to be treated as such.
I stand up from the toilet and stride up to the door again, banging on it to get his attention. “Hey, dickhead. Let me out of here before I call Henry.”
I get no answer, and I don’t have my phone with me to call Henry even if I wanted to.
“Hey, I’m talking to you. Answer me,” I demand, banging on the door harder. Someone in this cheap hotel is bound to hear me. I don’t take kindly to being bossed around, and I’ll sooner expose us than let Carter take full reign of this mission and eliminate Bheka without me.
“Shut up,” Carter says from the room.
“No,” I shout, banging on the door harder.
“Goddammit,” I hear him grumble.
Then, footsteps.
The door flies open, causing me to stumble forward and bounce my head against Carter’s broad, muscular chest. I look up, and his expression is pure rage.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Honey
“Do you want to blow our cover? Is that what you’re trying to do?” Carter growls, yanking me out of the bathroom and pushing me toward the bed.
I yelp as I stumble into the bed, hitting my shins on the wood. “Ouch, stop it,” I cry, rolling onto the bed as Carter stomps up to me.
His eyes flicker down to my legs, a glint of sympathy in them for a fraction of a second before he continues on his dominant rampage. “You need to obey me, Honey. I didn’t marry you so that you could dance around me like a fucking jester, undermining my credibility and making me look like a fool.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” I say softly, laying back on the bed in fear of what my husband has become.
“You know what you’re doing. The sex, the smart little comments, and now, the police? You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” he says, his eyes darting along my body as though he’s searching it for the truth.
I’m confused. “What are you talking about? I didn’t call the police.”
“And yet, they knew who you were. Who are you working for? Bheka? Someone else? Who?” he shouts, a thick vein pumping in his neck.
“Who do you think I am?” I ask, distress replacing my previous frustration. I’m being attacked for something I haven’t even done, and that hurts coming from the man I was starting to develop feelings for. He’s my husband, for god’s sake. He shouldn’t be like this.
“No more games, Honey. Tell me the truth,” Carter says, pulling his gun from his waistband.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, tears coming to my eyes. Never in my life did I imagine that Carter would be driven to threaten me in such a horrible way. Would he really kill me over unfounded suspicions? Has he lost his mind?
“Tell me the truth,” he says, waving the gun at the ceiling, but not pointing it at me yet.
“I am,” I reply, trying to appear calm under his insanity.
“Who called the police on us? Who did it? Was it you?” he asks.
“It wasn’t me. I don’t know. I don’t know who did it.” My voice trembles as I speak, despite my best efforts to steady it. I’m terrified.
Carter doesn’t have the chance to ask any more questions. The door to the room burst open, men with guns and blue uniforms rushing in like a
