Rule's Addiction (The House of Rule 3)

Just as she thought she had the fear conquered, the elevator came to an abrupt stop with a grinding lurch, and the lights went off. In an instant, she was transported back to the dark shed of her terrifying childhood experience; logic went out of the window. Her heart started pounding, and she practically choked on her own breath, debilitating panic overcoming her as terror wrapped around her and gripped her in waves, refusing to let go.

Chapter Seven

Garrett walked into the hotel that evening just as one of the maintenance workers shouted across the lobby. Annoyance was his first feeling, wondering why in the hell the man would break from protocol and send a possible upset through any guests who might be within earshot.

Already anxious to see Maria, he glanced around, knowing instinctively that if there were a problem in her hotel, she’d be right in the midst of it all. When he saw another maintenance man join the first, with still no sign of Maria, he walked over to them. “What’s going on?”

The first man, the one who’d shouted, was a much older, no-nonsense looking guy with a nametag that read ‘Dan’ on his coveralls. “The elevator doors are stuck.”

“Any guests on it?” Garrett asked.

“No. Service elevator. “ Dan answered shortly, turning away abruptly as if he didn’t have time for questions.

The slight insubordination hit Garrett the wrong way; there was no question that the employees here knew that he owned the place. “Then why exactly would you shout across the damn hotel like the place is on fire? You purposely trying to upset the guests?”

The man turned back with fire in his eyes, “Because Maria’s on it, that’s why. And that’s all I give a shit about at the moment, not the hotel and not the guests.” The words were pissed, as if someone was trying to slow him down from saving his own child.

At Maria’s name on the other man’s lips, Garrett reared back as if he’d taken a hit. “Is she okay?”

“Hell, no. The girl’s got the worst case of claustrophobia I’ve ever seen. And she’s been stuck in there by herself for a good twenty minutes already.”

“Claustrophobia?” Why the hell hadn’t he known she had claustrophobia?

“Damn near debilitating. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get her out of there, okay?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

The men vaulted up the stairs and worked on getting the doors open with a vengeance that was telling. The people here loved Maria, that had been more than obvious to Garrett since the day he’d arrived, and now, they worked like madmen to release her from her confinement.

When the doors finally opened, Garrett almost lost it at the sight that greeted him. Maria was sitting in the back corner, on her butt with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her head was bent forward, her face pressed tightly against her knees with her eyes screwed closed, and tears were streaming down her pale cheeks. Her shoes were off and lying beside her, her hair was a tangled, damp mess, and she was moaning in the back of her throat, rocking her torso forward and then back again.

“Goddammit,” he barked, making an immediate move for her. Before he could take two steps forward, Dan put a proprietary hand on his arm, indicating that he’d be the one to see to her first.

Rage, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, boiled up from Garrett’s throat and clawed itself out in a display of emotion that, had he retained a bit of sanity, would have astonished him. With a move that pushed the older man back against the elevator wall, Garrett snarled, “Back the fuck off. Understand me, old man? She’s mine. My woman, my responsibility.”

Releasing the clearly shocked man from his death grip, Garrett turned and crouched beside Maria. She was exactly in the same position; her head was still against her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. “Babe,” he all but whispered.

The rocking motion stopped, but she remained still, with her head lowered.

“Baby, come on.” He ran a gentle hand from the top of her head down her damp hair, but still she didn’t respond.

Putting his fingers to her clammy forehead, he pushed back until finally, she raised her face and opened her eyes.

He sucked in an agonized breath at the look of her. Her mouth was set in lines of tension and her eyes seemed hollow before she jerked them away from his gaze and looked away. He’d never thought she looked her age, but right now, she looked every day of her twenty-five years. Her eyes were red from crying, and the only thing that saved her skin from being deathly white was the streaks of mascara and other make-up that was smeared in a colorful mess on her cheeks.