Sins & Secrets 2 (Sins 2)

I’m usually numb as hell whenever I enter the lobby, but tonight, I’m wired. My emotions are buzzing, my stomach burning with lingering memories of last night. My head still hurts and my wrist is a little bruised from where Tenner gripped me.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to worry whether or not Reagan told this guy he could do anything to me.

“Do you have the key Nyjah

gave you?” I ask Ellington as we get out of the cab and stand in front of the entrance.

Beside the doors, a guy smoking a cigarette and leaning against the wall is watching us intently. He has a hoodie pulled up so I can’t get a good look at him, but his attention makes me nervous.

Ellington pays the cab driver then shuts the door. Then he takes a deep inhale as he studies the dimly lit, dingy, outdated hotel that rises up to the night sky. “Yeah … Let’s get this over with.”

Okay, that’s a new one. It’s like he doesn’t want to be here, and considering he paid a ton for this date, it makes no sense. I want to ask him what’s up, yet I also don’t want to give Reagan anymore reason to go to the Defontelles.

I keep my lips sealed as we head to the front door, very aware of the guy leaning against the wall, tracking me with his eyes. I attempt to see what he looks like beneath the shadows of his hoodie, but he’s fairly far away. All I can make out is his eyes, a mouth, and lips.

When Ellington opens the door for me, I tear my attention back to him and focus on my job. Taking the lead, I cross the lobby and get on the elevator. Ellington fidgets the entire time, his head tipped down, shoulders slouched. It’s like he’s about to fold over and pass out.

Yeah, I’m definitely betting this one’s a backer outer. Or it’s something else …

I eye him over, trying to read him.

“You okay there?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

I don’t believe him for one second, and after last night, every part of me screams to pull out my gun.

I keep an eye on him, my hand near my side. He only lifts his head when the elevator beeps and the doors open.

“After you,” he says, motioning for me to get out first.

I force a smile, and then step out, noticing he has a thin trail of sweat on his forehead.

Something’s not right.

If any of his clients know who I am, I’m screwed. But now I’m wondering if this is a setup. Maybe Ellington is helping set me up for Reagan.

Ellington follows me as I walk down the slender hallway lined with shut doors. The place is silent, which is typical for this hotel, yet I find myself desperate to hear a noise.

I casually let my fingers graze my thigh, the reminder usually bringing me comfort. Not tonight.

“Which room number are we in?” I glance over my shoulder at Ellington, who’s wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Um …” He looks around at the numbered doors, seeming more nervous than when we had dinner. Then he lifts his hand and points at the last door on the left. “It’s right there. That’s the one, I think.”

I give my best smile then step back so he can unlock the door, my hand still near the gun.

He steps forward, reaches into his pocket, and then curses under his breath and moves back. “Sorry, I … uh … forgot the key,” he says tensely. “I’ll be right back.”

“But you said you already had it,” I call out. He’s already rushing back down the hallway toward the elevators.

I have no idea where he’s going. If he doesn’t have the key, then he has to get one from Nyjah, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand around here and wait for whatever comes next.

I start to chase after him then pause at the sound of a loud bang from inside one of the nearby rooms. My guard instantly goes up. Something’s about to happen. Something bad.

With my hand cupping my thigh, I cautiously move down the hallway with my eyes glued to every door I pass. If there is someone in one of the rooms, they can clearly see me through the peephole. This is the worst kind of scenario for an ambush on my part.

I think about how I got kidnapped two years ago, and how I was thrown into a car. I wonder if they’ll just kill me this time. I don’t have Layton here to protect me.

Layton. God, I miss him.

By the time I reach the end of the hall, nearing the elevators, I haven’t seen or heard anything. I start to ease my fingers away from my thigh. But then the lights flip off, and I’m suffocated by darkness.

“Shit,” I curse, tensing up again.

Seconds later, the backup lights flip on, giving little light. I squint to see my surroundings as I withdraw my gun, wondering if I’ll be able to do it this time when it all comes down to it—take another life.

I quickly sidestep down the hall, turning from side to side, scanning the doors, aware that no one has exited any of the rooms. Someone should have come out by now to see what’s going on.

The longer it stays silent, the more I think this is a trap.

I need to get out of here.

I pick up my pace, running past the elevators and toward the bright green exit sign above the door that leads to the stairway. When I make it there, I take off in a mad sprint down the stairs, speeding up when I hear a door open and shut from somewhere on the stairway. I wonder if they’re below me or above me.

Up or down? Which way should I go?

I hear loud footsteps from above and take off downward, my heart racing frantically, like it’s finally remembering how to beat after I tried to shut it down for so many years.

“Lola, wait!” someone calls out.

I move faster, my feet hammering down the stairs. Just a few more flights, and then I can run out the door and get into a cab. I’ll go home, get my stuff, and run until they catch me. Deep down, I know I won’t make it far, not when I’ve already been found, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t go down without a fight.

“Lola, for the love of God, please slow down.” When a hand touches my shoulder, I spin around, raising the gun and pointing it at the person behind me.

Ellington immediately raises his hands, his eyes widening as he stammers, “I-I’m s-sorry … I just … It’s that … Why do you have a gun?”

I assess him with suspicion, not trusting him one little bit.

“Who do you work for?” I move toward him, forcing him to back up against the wall. “Did Reagan put you up to this? Is he setting me up? What’s your real name?”

“E-Ellington.” He’s nervous enough I can tell he’s probably never had a gun held to him, or he’s a damn good actor.

“How did you know I was on the stairway?” I ask, reducing the space between us as I inch closer to instill more fear and hopefully break him down if he’s hiding something.

“I … I was heading down to …” His eyes keep flicking to my gun, filling more and more with fear. “I was just … I can’t … I was heading down … t-the s-stairs and saw you, and …” He breathes heavily, gasping for air. “I just wanted to see what it was like.” The words rush out of him as he leans back against the wall, trying to get as far away from me as he can.

I lower my gun. The guy can barely talk when his life is threatened, which makes him even less suspicious.

“You just wanted to see what what was like?”

“Sex … I just wanted to see what it was like, but I didn’t think …” He sucks in a deep breath, his gaze dropping to my weapon. “I just want to go home,” he pleads. “Can I go now?”

So, Reagan did tell him he could have sex with me. Great.

Fucking asshole!

“I need to see your wallet first,” I tell him, not bothering to wait as I stuff my hand down his pockets, digging around until I find his wallet.

“I-I don’t have that much money on me,” he stammers. “And I’m not rich.”

“I don’t want your money.” With my free hand, I open up the wallet and read his driver’s license. “Ellington Burliford. 45455 Peach Tree Road.” I look up at him. “How long have you lived at Peach Tree?”

“Um … I-I …” He sucks in a breath, trying to pull himself together. “About two years.”

“You go to college?”

“Y-yes.”

“And why can’t you get laid?” I ask, digging through his wallet. He doesn’t have much; just a few credit cards, a gift card, a condom, and thirty-five bucks. “Go to a party or something. It’s easier than

hiring an escort.”

“I’ve tried,” he says. “N-no one will even talk to me, let alone have sex with me.”

I look him over more closely. Decent clothes, normal appearance—nothing weird or anything. Then again, the guys I’m running from know how to blend in.

“Are you always this nervous around women?” I wonder. “Or is it just me?”

He swiftly nods. “I have s-social anxiety disorder.”

Okay, now I just feel bad. I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth, which means I’m screwed. I’ve messed up big time, and Reagan is going to be completely pissed. He’ll use this against me; tell me he’s turning me in. If I were my father, I’d tie Ellington up and threaten him until he gave in and swore he’d never tell. If he did, I’d track him down and kill him. It’s what the Anelli’s are known for. However, technically I’m not an Anelli.

I give him back his wallet. “All right, Ellington. Today is your lucky day.”

“Okay … Why’s that?” he asks, putting his wallet back, his fingers trembling.

“Because, the next time you go up to a woman, to talk or whatever, you can think of this moment, and the concept of being nervous will seem silly. Trust me; after today, everything’s going to seem easier than the time you tried to hire an escort.”

He doesn’t appear to be buying it but nods, anyway.

“Can I go now please?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” I move aside and motion for him to get a move on.

He takes off running so quickly he trips down a few steps, yet it doesn’t slow him down. He gets right back up and sprints down the stairs until he’s bursting out the door and outside.

I put my gun away and take my time going down the stairway, wondering where to go from here. Back home? To The Dusky Inn to talk to Reagan to see how much trouble I’m in if Ellington reports me? Maybe I could talk to Nyjah and see if he knows about all this and if maybe he could help me.

“I should have been more careful,” I mutter as I push the door open.

The lights flip back on as I’m stepping into the alleyway, lighting up the pavement. I let the door slam shut as I wrap my arms around myself, the cold air nipping my skin. It’s late, after midnight, the moon is bright, and the stars shine dimly against the dusky sky. It’s incredibly quiet, incredibly peaceful. I wish things could just stay this way. Right here. Right now. I wish I didn’t have to move forward and deal with the things I’m facing. I should have been more careful, come up with a better alias, made Layton’s sacrifice more worth it.