“Dr. Ryder?” Katy’s voice could be heard on the other side of the door.
“Oh my God,” Paris whispered, feeling her heart speed up. “Hand me my bra, please. It’s hanging from the shade of your good lamp.”
He shook his head, stating quietly. “I’ve got this, baby. Katy, hold on.”
“Sure thing.”
He took another step and cut his foot on one of the shards of the broken lamp’s base. “Fuck. Shit. Ouch.”
He’d cut his foot and began bleeding.
“Dr. Ryder, is everything okay?” Katy’s voice was filled with concern.
Paris saw the doorknob began to move. “Shit.”
Without thinking and in a single motion, she jumped past Dustin and over the glass and turned the deadbolt.
Dustin laughed. “Katy, I’m on the phone. I’ll call you when I get off.”
Paris almost burst out laughing, mouthing the words “get off” to him.
“Okay, Doc. Whatever you say.”
After they were sure Katy was gone, they fell back onto the sofa and into each other’s arms, laughing hysterically.
“I don’t remember you being a superhero, Paris, but the way you were able to leap across the room and get my door locked…well, it was a sight to behold. It’s over, thank God. Danger averted thanks to you.”
She grinned. “Now, you’re just teasing me, Dustin Ryder.”
“Maybe so, Paris Cottrell. Maybe so. But it would’ve been funny if we’d gotten caught.”
“Don’t go there. We were very lucky. Can you imagine what Katy would’ve done had she opened the door and we’d still been on your desk?”
“I’m not sure, but she would’ve witnessed two people in love enjoying each other.”
She kissed him, feeling hope spring back to life. Maybe I can have my dream after all, the one where Dustin and Mick share me as their wife.
Chapter Eleven
Barkley stretched out on the bed in his hotel room. It felt good to feel a proper mattress on his back. The prison mattress he’d slept on for the past several years had been a slight step up from sleeping on the ground—just barely.
He’d checked into the Dream Hotel under the name of Karl Lemmon, the name on the driver’s license and passport Cindy had given him. He’d seen fake IDs before, but the ones she’d handed over were excellent. She wasn’t his type. Too many brains. He liked his women stupid, meek, and curvy. Trollinger did have the curves, but she wasn’t stupid and she definitely wasn’t meek.
She’d promised him a new life, a clean slate, and a ton of cash in exchange for one job. Even though thrilled at the pay he was going to get once he put a bullet in the skull of the motherfucker, he would’ve done it for free, though he wasn’t about to share that with Cindy.
He brought out the Glock and silencer she’d given him. It had a good weight. He pointed it at his reflection in the mirror, imagining it was his target.
His mind went back to the night he’d lost Anne. Sure, he’d roughed her up a bit. She’d deserved it, like so many times before. But that fucking doctor had let her die.
“Boom. Boom.” He holstered the gun and stared at his image in the mirror. “You like that nurse, don’t you, Doc? She’s a pretty thing. Right before I left the waiting room, I saw how you looked at her. You tapping that, Doc? I bet you are.”
Barkley grinned. “It’s payback time, Doc.”
* * * *
Dustin kissed Paris again. He couldn’t get enough of her. “I missed you so much, Paris.” He never tired of staring at her violet eyes, which were so unusual and devastatingly beautiful like the rest of her, inside and out. He traced her shoulders with his fingers.
“I’ve missed you, too, Dustin.” Finishing getting dressed, she pulled on her slacks and put on her top. “But I really need to tell you something important.”