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Chapter 4 - The Accusation

Miller slowly raised his hands, backing away into the shadows of the terrace.

He offered me a pitying look before disappearing completely into the night.

Thomas dug the barrel of his gun harder into my ribs, his breath reeking of expensive bourbon.

He shoved me roughly toward the heavy wooden doors of the hotel's private study.

He kicked the door shut and locked it, throwing me violently onto a leather sofa.

I gasped for air, my ribs aching from the brutal impact.

Thomas paced the room like a caged animal, waving his gun wildly in my direction.

He screamed that he knew I was a federal rat the moment I showed up looking like a billionaire's mistress.

I tried to calmly explain that the waiter had cornered me, but my voice trembled.

Thomas laughed, a harsh, grating sound that chilled me to the bone.

He said he was going to enjoy dissecting the perfect little secretary to see what she was hiding.

He pointed the gun squarely at my forehead, his finger sliding slowly onto the trigger.

The heavy oak doors of the study suddenly exploded inward with a deafening crash.

Larkin stood in the doorway, a customized pistol resting loosely in his right hand.

His eyes were completely black with a terrifying, unspoken fury.

He calmly asked his cousin why there was a weapon pointed at his date.

Thomas kept his gun aimed at my head, sweating profusely.

He shouted that I was conspiring with a federal agent on the balcony.

Larkin stepped into the room, his footsteps echoing ominously on the hardwood floor.

He told Thomas that paranoia was making him sloppy and stupid.

Thomas panicked, pulling a small silver listening device from his pocket.

He threw the bug onto the glass coffee table, claiming he had seen the agent slip it into my dress.

Larkin looked at the device, then slowly shifted his freezing gaze toward me.

The atmosphere in the room became incredibly heavy and suffocating.

Larkin walked over to me, extending his hand with a terrifyingly blank expression.

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He ordered me to strip off the dress to prove I wasn't wearing a wire.

If I refused, he promised to let Thomas pull the trigger.

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