Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“Uh, Mr. Mori?” she spoke up as I kept walking.

I slowed to a stop and turned around. “What is it?”

Her blonde ponytail sat high, and her navy blue polo with the Graymor Cristane logo on the left breast was pristine and ironed, as always.

She looked behind me and gestured to something, and I turned my head, getting aggravated. Really, the girl acted like I was going to eat her if she spoke.

But, spotting the two visitors loitering in the lobby, I suddenly forgot about Caroline.

Banks stood next to the wall to my right, holding one of the bamboo poles from the rack hanging there. She looked up at me and then back down, absently examining the weapon as if she were window shopping with no other purpose for being here.

Across the room, to her right, stood a man who seemed vaguely familiar. Clearly one of Gabriel’s henchmen, judging by his shaved head, silver chain, tacky leather jacket, and black and blue marks around his eye.

I set the water bottle and the towel down. Their presence was either a very good sign or a very bad one. I didn’t want trouble, not here.

Walking slowly toward the girl, I held her eyes as I reached out and gently took the stick from her hands.

“It’s a shanai,” I told her. “A Japanese sword.”

She stared at me, expressionless, and the rise and fall of her chest was steady and slow. Controlled. Too controlled. I backed away with the weapon, trying not to take in her appearance or revel in how it amused me.

A simple, black ski cap covered every single piece of what I knew was rich, dark brown hair underneath, and instead of the suit she’d worn today, she now hid nearly every inch of her shape in a pair of old jeans with rips on the knees, combat boots, and a short, black jacket buttoned up to the neck, her hands disappearing into the pockets.

But before she hid them, I noticed she still wore the same fingerless, leather gloves she was wearing earlier today. The only visible skin on her was a bit of her neck and her face.

I liked that. She was still a mystery.

I pulled my gaze reluctantly from her, turning my head to the other man. “Have you come with a message?” I asked. “Will Gabriel do business?”

The man, whom I judged to be in his mid-thirties by the wrinkles setting in around his eyes, cast a quick glance at the girl and then tipped his chin up at me.

“Why do you want the hotel, exactly?”

“I’m a businessman,” I replied. “I’m acquiring property, like businessmen do.”

His eyes shot to her again, and I narrowed my own, following his gaze. Banks stared back at him, and I swore I saw a slight smile on her face.

A silent dialogue passed between them, and I watched them both carefully.

The man finally drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Mr. Torrance is interested in opening up a dialogue with you.”

But I just scoffed. “Opening up a dialogue…” I mocked under my breath. “Yes, I know Gabriel’s dialogue very well. And I already agreed that his son could return, but I’m going to need assurances of my own.”

He shot a quick glance at Banks—again—and then answered me, resolute. “Ms. Fane will be safe.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” I argued, stepping forward. “We both know Damon doesn’t let anyone speak for him.”

“Damon will do what his father says.”

I stood there, keeping quiet and thinking.

If Gabriel was willing to let me buy the hotel, that meant Damon might not be there, after all. Or, quite possibly, Gabriel just didn’t know where his son was. Prison had embarrassed our families immensely, and Gabriel Torrance was not interested in seeing his son screw up again.

If he knew where his son was, he’d bring him home. My intent, though, was to find him before his father did.

“I want inside the hotel first,” I told him. “I need to dig around a bit and evaluate how much work it will take me.”

His eyes darted over to her again, but it was so quick I missed her silent response.