Hotel Hideaway: (Soldiering On #4)

by Aislinn Kearns

  The lights came on, illuminating the whole room. Sam squinted and scanned the space. From her vantage, Sam could see everyone, but Cameron was nowhere to be found. Blake chatted to the security guards, and it looked like they were making friends. Blake could charm anyone, so it wasn’t a surprise. A man and a woman scribbled furiously on pads in opposite corners of the room, paying no attention to the crowd.

  And, wait, there was Cameron, slipping out the back door in pursuit of a shadowy figure.

  Sam’s heart leapt into her throat and she slipped off the stage. But the crowd was too dense and angry to pay attention to her as she tried to slip through. Cameron got farther away with every obstacle.

  And Sam feared he was about to get himself into some serious danger.

  Chapter 22

  Jason, if it was Jason, strode a few feet ahead. Cameron crept after him as he wound through the corridors of the hotel. Where was Jason going? Escaping out the back?

  Cameron’s heart thundered with both fear and anticipation, a roaring in his ears. The man he’d been hunting for so many years was within his grasp. He exhaled quietly, trying to control his heartbeat, to use logic, not emotion. But his heart overrode his head. He wanted to catch this guy, punish him. Maybe not kill him, though the temptation gnawed at him. But definitely have him arrested, maybe beat him up a little.

  Instead of continuing towards the service exit, Jason found the emergency stairs. Cameron peered through the rectangular window on the swinging door in time to see Jason take the stairs two at a time. Cameron waited a few breaths, vibrating with the urgent need to follow, then opened the door and ascended the stairs, compromising between speed and silence. Cameron had no idea if Jason was aware of his pursuit. Since Jason hadn’t reacted, Cameron had to hope he didn’t.

  Jason exited the stairwell three floors up and turned left. Cameron put on a burst of speed and caught the door before it banged shut. He breathed heavier now, the chase and the adrenaline causing his lungs to work overtime.

  Jason darted into a room on his right and shut the door behind him. Cameron slid silently to the door and pressed his ear against it. Nothing. No sound at all.

  His mouth dry, his palms clammy, Cameron reached for the door handle. He had no plan for what he’d do once the door opened. He only knew he couldn’t let Jason out of his sight. Couldn’t lose him now.

  Sam’s words echoed in his mind. What would he do when he found Jason? Would he kill him? Cameron suddenly understood that he couldn’t. Not only would it turn him into the man Sam had accused him of being, it would make him little better than Jason himself—stalking a man and killing him in cold blood. Jason still deserved to be punished, but legally.

  Cameron pulled out his phone and dialled quickly. “Operator? I need the police. I’m being attacked by a man in—” he checked the number on the door and then relayed the information to the woman on the other end of the phone. Before she could ask more questions, Cameron hung up.

  Then, he slowly, carefully, pulled the handle down, wincing as it made a slight squeak. He cracked open the door and put his eye to the gap. From the thin sliver that was visible, Cameron could see a dark room, a tall window on the far wall partially covered by some gauzy curtains, and not much else.

  He opened the crack wider. No movement in the room at all. Where had Jason gone?

  A gust of wind blew past with a faint whistle, sending a tree branch outside to tap lightly against the window. Cameron shivered, took a deep breath, then opened the door wide.

  “What do you want?” said a voice from the far corner of the room. Cameron’s head whipped around. Jason leaned against the wall, half-revealed by a slash of moonlight from the window. He leaned forward into the light, and Cameron swallowed at the hard look in the man’s eyes. He’d made a mistake coming here.

  But he couldn’t let Jason know that.

  “Are you Jason Turner?” he asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

  Jason gave a half smile, but not a happy one. “I am. And you are the illustrious Mr. Lawrence.”

  Dread pooled in Cameron’s stomach. “How do you know my name?” he asked, injecting as much steel into his voice as he could.

  “Erica gave it to me, along with your file.” Jason shrugged uncaringly, then pushed off the wall and sauntered towards Cameron.

  “File?” Cameron managed as his throat closed over in panic. His mind scrambled as he tried to reassess the situation. He wasn’t on the attack, he was on the defence. Jason had all the power.

  “All my marks have files,” Jason replied with an unpleasant smile, confirming Cameron’s worst suspicions.

  “So, you’re here to kill me?” he asked, pressing his back against the door and searching behind him for the handle. He had to keep Jason distracted so he could escape.

  “Yes, that’s why Erica invited me here. She trusts me to get the job done.” Jason was close, now. Only a few feet away.

  “She won’t be able to pay you. She’ll be in jail or worse before morning.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and stepped sideways, and Cameron realised the man toyed with him, circling him. His heart thumped painfully against his rib cage, his mouth completely devoid of moisture.

  He couldn’t seem to find the handle. His hands shook too much.

  “Erica always pays me upfront. Like I said, she trusts me.” He bared his teeth. “Besides, Danny or Tulane will give me my bonus, I’m sure. I can be very persuasive.”

  Why had Cameron thought it was a good idea to follow this man? To come to this event without Sam or someone at his back?

  “I’m sure,” Cameron replied. He finally found the handle and pulled it down. He had to step forward because the door swung into the room, but before he could get it open, Jason darted towards him. His hand closed around Cameron’s throat as he slammed Cameron back against the door. The breath knocked from his lungs at the impact. He tried to suck in a breath, but Jason’s hand restricted his airflow.

  He choked, his lungs spasming, and blackness crept into the edge of his vision. One clear thought crystallised in his mind: he had to fight back.

  Cameron reached out with both hands to find a weapon. He had to fight against the instinct to pull at Jason’s hand on his throat, knowing the move would be a futile one. His hand closed around something metallic and heavy, with uneven ridges running vertical along it. Good enough. He picked it up and hauled it at Jason’s head, seeing at the last second it was a table lamp.

  The instant it slammed into Jason’s head, the man flinched away, his grip on Cameron’s neck loosening. Cameron threw himself out of Jason’s reach, stumbling as he tried to draw in deep breaths. When his mind cleared he grasped his mistake—Jason loomed between him and the door.

  Jason turned, a trickle of blood running down his temple and bloodlust in his eyes. Cameron swallowed. He knew he was outmatched. Jason was a trained fighter, a former soldier, and far more bloodthirsty than Cameron would ever be. Cameron had the advantage of height, though Jason was much broader through the shoulders, and had muscles packed on his muscles.

  Maybe, maybe, he could keep Jason occupied enough for someone to find them. Whether through the art of conversation, or just holding on while Jason assaulted him, surely someone would stumble across them eventually. He thought he’d seen Sam earlier, heard her voice, but he’d been so distracted following Jason through the crowds he hadn’t checked. Perhaps it had been a figment of his imagination. A wish, not reality.

  Jason pulled a knife from behind his back and hunched forward as if to strike. The blood drained from Cameron’s face. He needed to try something here, so he sought about for a topic of conversation.

  “Who’s Tulane?” he asked suddenly.

  Jason narrowed his eyes, straightening his spine. “You don’t know your own boss?” he asked.

  “Tulane is the third chairperson?” Cameron asked, his heart pounding.

  “Sure is. A nasty son of a bitch, and that’s saying somethin
g from me.”

  Cameron didn’t disagree.

  “So, why’d you follow me and sign your own death warrant?” Jason asked, his voice musing. He flicked the knife playfully, almost casually, but Cameron didn’t mistake it as anything other than a threat.

  At the reminder of his mission, Cameron’s blood heated. “You killed my brother.”

  Jason’s eyes cleared. “Did I now? So, what, now you want revenge?” He said it mockingly, taunting Cameron with the precariousness of his situation. Jason took a few prowling steps towards Cameron, swinging the knife between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, that will be your last mistake.”

  He lunged, but Cameron was ready for it, jumping out of the way just in time. He tripped into a chair, then stumbled around it, putting it between him and Jason. The furniture made him think they were in some kind of sitting room. The door hadn’t been locked, so perhaps Cameron would get lucky and this was a well-frequented public area.

  Jason lunged again, this time leaping over the chair, and coming down at Cameron with his knife hand. Cameron blocked the arm, but the blade grazed his shoulder even as the impact jarred his arm.

  Jason followed with a left-hand punch to Cameron’s gut, doubling him over and stealing the breath he’d just got back.

  “You made a mistake, bud. You should’ve run from me when you had the chance.”

  Cameron tilted his head up to see an unholy fire in Jason’s eyes, a sick lust for violence and inflicting pain.

  “You should’ve let my brother live,” he spat in return, his whole body shaking from fear and adrenaline. He punched directly at Jason’s groin, and the other man growled in pain, dropping the knife. Cameron used his advantage, picking up the chair next to them and smashing it over Jason’s head before he recovered. The chair didn’t break, but it hit with a satisfying crunch before tumbling to the floor.

  Jason let out a yell. Still hunched over, he charged at Cameron, plowing his shoulder into Cameron’s stomach. The two flew back, hitting a side table with a crash. This time, the wood did splinter and break, chips flying in all directions. Cameron’s back ached where it had hit the table’s edge, and he could already feel a nasty bruise forming.

  Jason had the advantage now, as he used his body weight to hold Cameron down. He was trapped. The heavy weight of inevitability fell over him. He would die here.

  But he had to keep fighting. He couldn’t let this man get away, he couldn’t let himself die by the same hand as had killed his brother. The police would be here soon enough, he had to hope.

  Jason raised his fist and punched Cameron, hard, in the face.

  Blood trickled from his nose and his head swum. The broken table dug into his back and he focused on the pain to clear his mind. Think. Jason punched again, but this time Cameron managed to knock it aside, sending Jason’s fist into the carpet. Cameron reached with both hands and locked them around Jason’s throat, squeezing tight. But Jason used the pressure points on Cameron’s hands to loosen his grip and move his hand away.

  Cameron kicked out in pain, his foot hitting something—maybe the abandoned chair from before. It toppled over with a clatter.

  Jason still controlled Cameron with his thumbs on the pressure points, holding his arms wide. Cameron wrenched his arms, trying to get free, and pain shot up his forearms. Jason head-butted Cameron, hard, and Cameron’s mind reeled again. He barely noticed when Jason dropped his hands, he was too busy blinking back his focus.

  The weight lifted off Cameron’s chest and he sucked in a breath, his mind clearing. Jason stood over him, the moonlight through the nearby window glinting on the blade of his knife.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” Jason whispered, eyes wide with excitement.

  “Do it,” Cameron spat.

  A deafening bang sounded in the room. Jason staggered and less than a second later the window behind him shattered into a million piece, catching the glittering light of the moon as it fell.

  Jason turned stiffly, fury etching itself onto his face.

  Cameron sat up, flicking his gaze to where Jason scowled. He blinked, then blinked again to clear his vision.

  But, no, that really was Sam silhouetted in the doorway, her stance wide, her gun pointed at Jason. She looked like an avenging angel, fierce and lovely.

  “Sam?” he whispered. She didn’t take her eyes from Jason.

  “Stay where you are,” she told the assassin, but Jason lowered his head as if to charge, his knife raising.

  Sam let off another bullet and Jason stumbled back at the impact, towards the broken window.

  But Jason wasn’t done. A wildness had entered his eyes, as if he no longer possessed any rational thought. He growled, and he again readied himself to charge. Why wouldn’t he go down?

  Cameron levered himself to his feet, his gaze bouncing between Jason and Sam as they squared off.

  “You’re finished,” Jason spat, then launched forward.

  Sam fired, again and again, each bullet hitting Jason with deadly precision. The man staggered back with each hit until the back of his thighs slammed into the window sill. His feet slipped out from under him and he toppled back out the open hole, catching the gauzy curtain as he fell so it fluttered around him as he disappeared from sight.

  Cameron winced as the crunch of his body hitting the ground below reached them. He swallowed down a wave of nausea, his head spinning. Sam had been right. It wasn’t pleasant to watch a man die, even one like Jason. It was even worse to be responsible.

  “Are you okay?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, focusing back on her. “At least I think so.” Why was she here? How had she found him?

  “Paul was watching the cameras,” she said, and Cameron realised he must have asked those questions aloud.

  “Thank you,” he managed. “I should meet that guy.”

  Sam smiled, then holstered her weapon on her lower back. She stepped forward, and Cameron couldn’t resist moving in her direction. He wanted to take her in his arms. Kiss her, love her. Show his appreciation for her timely arrival.

  But he didn’t know whether that was welcome.

  “Erica?” he asked instead.

  “On the run, but chances are good her deeds will catch up to her,” she replied with a smile.

  Their gazes locked together as they each took another step towards each other.

  “It wasn’t me,” Cameron said eventually. “I had nothing to do with the hostage situation, I promise you.” The words burst out of him.

  Sam shook her head. “I know. I’m so sorry I even entertained the idea you had, even for one second. I was confused and shocked and hurt, but that’s no excuse. Can you ever forgive me?” she asked, holding her hand towards him.

  Cameron didn’t take it. Instead, he stepped past her outstretched hand and took her in his arms, wrapping her tightly in his embrace. She felt so right against him. Warm and tough and beautiful.

  He kissed her, hard and fast—a kiss of possession and passion. It said more than his words could. That he forgave her, he cared for her, he might even love her. She kissed him back, communicating she was sorry, and she loved him back. His heart thumped in his chest with the exquisite pleasure of knowing how she felt about him.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Cameron broke the kiss but didn’t let Sam out of his arms.

  Two police officers stood there, eyeing them oddly. “An attack was called in?” the woman said.

  Cameron nodded and pointed towards the shattered window. “He attacked me. Sam here saved me.”

  They glanced the destruction in the room, then strode over to peer out the empty window. Their faces cleared.

  Sam’s fingers brushed against Cameron’s face, but not in an affectionate gesture. She wiped the blood from his nose.

  “How did he fall out the window?” the male police officer asked.

  “I shot him, protecting my client,” said Sam. “I’m this man’s bodyguard.”

  The two officers shared a
glance, but Cameron didn’t know what passed between them. The woman pulled the radio on her shoulder towards her mouth and called in for an ambulance as she hurried out the room to secure Jason’s body. The male police officer asked for statements, and they both happily gave their version of events. They held hands the entire time. Cameron wouldn’t make the mistake of letting her go again.

  Once that was done, and they promised to stay in contact with the cops, they exited the hotel and watched a stretcher bearing a body bag get pushed into a coroner’s vehicle.

  “It’s been a big day,” Sam said, sucking in the fresh city air. “Two assassins caught, Erica reputation destroyed, and Beaton’s whole business teetering on a cliff’s edge,” Sam murmured.

  “Two assassins?” Cameron asked, squeezing her hand.

  She slanted him a glance, a grin spreading across her face. “I’ll tell you later. For now, where should we go?” she asked. “Your place should be fixed, and chances are Danny and the other person wouldn’t dare send anyone after you while everything is so hot for them at the moment. We’ll keep an eye out, but I think the worst is over.”

  Cameron shook his head. “That apartment is part of my old life. I think I need a different one.”

  Sam’s eyes heated. “We could go back to the hotel?” she suggested, pressing in close against him. Her intent was clear, sending Cameron’s blood racing.

  “Perfect,” he whispered. “One more night in our oasis.”

  So they shut themselves away for a night of pleasure, before they returned to the real world and began to rebuild their lives. Together.

  Epilogue

  “So, I hear Erica is taking the fall for all Beaton’s crimes so far,” Mandy mused to Duncan before taking a bite from her takeaway noodles. She was sprawled across the couch in Duncan’s office while he sat as in his chair, food laid out on the desk before him.