A Deadly Reunion

by Odette C. Bell

  Then a sweet looking old man and old woman walked in behind him. Now, they were dressed like a million bucks – no, scratch that, try two million. If I were any judge, the solid diamond necklace dangling off the old nana’s throat had to be worth $500,000 on its own. You didn’t get diamonds that large every other day, and I really doubted, considering how expensive this resort was, that it was a set of cubic zirconias.

  Trying not to look like I was staring at everybody, even though I totally was, I shimmied right into the corner until one of my shoulders touched the cool metal panel of the wall. Staring at my hands, I flicked my pass-key around and around, letting the sound of it clinking against my nails distract me.

  “That’s a very nice blouse, dear,” the old woman said.

  Startled, I actually looked at the other two men in the elevator first to check she wasn’t talking to them. They were both wearing polo shirts; so no, she was clearly talking to me.

  Blushing a little, I muttered a “thank you.”

  “Where did you get it from? Paris? Milan? Is it a Casay design?”

  It took me a moment, then my addled brain reminded me Casay was perhaps the most famous couture brand in Paris.

  I gave an extremely undignified and unladylike snort, which I tried to cover up by planting my hand over my mouth and coughing politely. “No, it’s from...” I looked for a discrete way to say it was from the supermarket, but nothing came to mind. So, after a long pause, I answered, “a shop.”

  Yes, a shop.

  Well of course it was from a shop.

  Rather than look at me strangely, the old woman offered a polite smile. “Do you come here often? This is my fourth time, and I must say, the midnight cocktails are sublime.”

  “I’ve never been here before, but thank you for the tip,” I managed as the doors pinged open. Then I maneuvered myself forward, gave a polite if silly and unnecessary wave, and walked on out, blushing as I did.

  I wasn’t usually the kind of girl who cared about status and money. I didn’t covet the stuff, and if someone was a hell of a lot richer than me – which wasn’t hard – I tended not to care.

  So why hadn’t I answered truthfully in the elevator? I should have told the woman I’d won this holiday, and I’d never shopped in Paris because I couldn’t afford a ticket on the train, let alone a trans-Atlantic flight?

  Putting it behind me, I finally rolled my suitcase down the long corridor until I found my room.

  As I opened up the door, I was struck with how strikingly beautiful everything was.

  Resting my suitcase down on the exceedingly soft and expensive carpet, I pressed the door closed behind me and then let an enormous grin reach wide across my lips and high into my eyes.

  “Holy crap,” I said in a whisper, and started to laugh in a much louder voice.

  If anyone had been listening in, they would have assumed I was some evil overlord or just an unstable lady who enjoyed soft carpet far too much.

  Racing over to the enormous bed with beautiful silk blankets and cushions on top, I unceremoniously flopped onto my back. Kicking my shoes off my feet, I brought my legs up and hugged them to my chest.

  Then I laughed some more.

  Once I was done laughing, I checked out the room in full.

  It had beautiful, wide French doors that led out onto a balcony with a small seating area and a view of the ocean beyond. It also had a bathroom replete with a spa bath, an enormous shower, and every little bottle of lotion and shampoo you could think of.

  Wandering back into the main room, I started to unpack my bags by flinging all of my clothes onto the wide, white leather couch that sat directed at the view.

  Once I was done chuckling about how lucky I was, I finally pulled off my pants, tugged on a nice blue sarong, and marched out of my room, with every intention of grabbing a midnight cocktail and lounging right in front of the pool.

  Walking down the hall, initially I aimed for the elevators, then figured I really needed to stretch my legs, considering I’d been on a plane and now fully intended to spend the afternoon eating, drinking, and sunbathing.

  Turning around, I quickly spied the stairwell at the end of the corridor, and made my way towards it.

  As I did, I heard a thump.

  A heavy, loud one.

  Looking concerned, I turned towards the door several feet in front of me. Slowing down as I passed it, I heard another thump. This one was louder and also accompanied with a shaking sound that reminded me of furniture rattling after a tremor or quake.

  I frowned. Deeply. It sounded like there was a troupe of elephants wandering around the room.

  Then the shouting began. Loud, angry, insistent.

  I froze.

  Right outside the door.

  For a second, I didn’t know what to do. Then I heard another thump.

  Taking a jolting step away from the door, I realized I had to go and get management.

  Because it really didn’t sound as if this argument was going to end on a good note.

  Shit.

  I turned sharply on my foot.

  That’s when I saw the two men walking purposefully my way.

  I say men; I meant tanks. They were enormous, and more than that, they were completely battle scarred. They had nicks and cuts and wounds over their faces, some fresh, and some healed over with white slashes of scar tissue.

  “There are some men fighting in that room,” I said quickly, pointing at the door rather desperately, “I think we should get management. It sounds,” I began.

  Then the two men reached me.

  The tallest – who had hawk-like eyes and a sharp, pointed nose with a long scar running across his chin – weighed a hand heavily into my shoulder.

  I hadn’t been expecting it, and I looked up sharply into his eyes, my lips dropping open in surprise.

  “There is nothing going on here. You can walk away now,” with that, he pushed me. Hard.

  He shoved me away from the door and further down the corridor. When I turned, looking over my shoulder instinctively, he shooed me on as if I were some unwanted bug.

  “But there’s–” I began.

  “Nothing going on here,” the man said as he locked me in an unnerving, dark gaze.

  Then it stopped.

  The arguing.

  The thumping.

  It stopped, and the silence left an eerie, uncomfortable feeling tracking its way up my spine.

  Standing several meters down the corridor and still staring at the two enormous men, I had no idea what to do.

  Then the big brute of a guy waved me on again, turned to his friend, cleared his throat, then the both of them opened the door and walked in.

  Dumbfounded, I stood there for all of about ten seconds until I whirled on my foot and hurried off down the corridor.

  Racing over to the elevators, I jumped in, pressed the key to the ground floor repeatedly, then bit my lip nervously as I waited.

  When the doors finally opened with a courteous beep, I rushed out into the lobby. As I did, I accidentally ran into a man.

  Not just any man.

  The rugged, polo-shirt-wearing, tanned god with the scuffed boots.

  I hit his arm as I shot past, and it was like slamming into a brick wall. It knocked me sideways, and I stumbled sharply.

  Before I could right myself, one large, tanned hand wrapped around my elbow and anchored me to the spot.

  It surprised me, and I spent a split second blinking up into his questioning gaze.

  You could easily, easily get lost in eyes like those. If you were lucky enough to wake up to them every morning, you’d never look away.

  “Are you alright?” he asked quickly, his tone revealing a thick American accent with a lilt of something exotic.

  “Ah...” I turned away and locked my eyes on reception. “Sorry,” I mumbled quickly as I pulled away from him.

  His fingers slipped easily from around my arm, though I saw him turn my way with a questioning gaze crumpl
ing his brow.

  I hurried over to reception.

  Tapping my fingers sharply on my thighs, I waited for a couple to stop chatting to the man behind the desk. Quickly giving up on being polite, I cleared my throat and leaned in.

  “Look, I am really sorry to interrupt, but I was walking along the corridor on the eleventh floor and I heard... a heated argument. There were two guys in one of the rooms shouting, and,” I swallowed sharply, “I think you should check it out.”

  At first the man behind the counter looked irritated at my interruption, then he gave a quick nod, grabbed up his phone, mumbled something into it, and nodded at me. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  I stood there, feeling itchy and nervous as he typed something quickly on his computer.

  I’d lived in one or two rough neighborhoods over the years, and I was no stranger to calling the police. I also knew how important it was to see to disputes like these quickly.

  “We will deal with this. I’m sure it is nothing. Now please enjoy the facilities.” He gestured towards the enormous glass windows that revealed an unrestricted view of the ocean beyond.

  I shook my head a little, forced a wan smile, then finally took a step back.

  As I did, I flicked my eyes to the left and saw the man with the scuffed boots standing a few feet off to the side of the counter, talking on his phone in a hushed but quick voice.

  I frowned. Wondering whether I should go up and apologize for ramming into him, he suddenly glanced my way.

  I caught his gaze, but only for a flickering second until he turned, shoved the phone harder against his ear, and started to walk across the lobby with heavy, thumping steps.

  ....

  He hadn’t been listening to my conversation, had he?

  It was a quick, admittedly stupid thought, and I promptly dismissed it with a sigh.

  Then I made my way towards one of the pools.

  This wasn’t how I had envisioned my holiday starting. Loads of sunshine, liberal amounts of fine food, and a good dose of luxury, yes, but not this... whatever this was.

  Though it took me a while, I forced myself to take a swallow and muster a smile, and finally walked outside into the startling sunshine and gentle, pleasant breeze.

  Whatever that argument had been, I’d done what I could.

  I’d alerted management, and hopefully they would go and break those boys up before they could do themselves any damage.

  Convincing myself I’d done everything I could, I finally hit the pool. Finding a lounge, I snapped up a drink, lay down face first on a cushion, and let the sunshine warm my back.

  My holiday had just begun.

  And though I could not appreciate it in that moment, my adventure had just begun too.

  The end of the excerpt. The rest of Room 89 is currently available.