Page 12 of Locked and Loaded

Hiring someone to take her by boat seemed like a solid option as well, but she needed to drive to the coast and locate someone willing to take her on. Then she had no idea if they were trustworthy.

Maybe she could charter a helicopter. She wasn’t rich, but she had been frugal, and she had some serious savings. She could hire herself a helicopter to take her. She immediately started looking up helicopter charters.

A half hour later, she finally had to admit defeat. She had managed to book one, but it wasn’t for a few days yet. It gave her a way to get out, but at this point, she thought the wait might kill her. Literally.

She stood up and then let out a small scream as a giant spider, the likes of which she had never seen, ran across the floor and disappeared under the door to the bathroom. She quickly grabbed one of the blankets off the bed and jammed it under the door.

“That’s it,” she huffed as she stood back against the far wall, ready to jump if the spider came back. She was exhausted, hungry, and pissed off. She longed for a bath and a good night’s sleep, not to mention a decent meal. Being on the run was not good for her digestion. She hadn’t eaten a decent sit-down meal in what seemed like months.

Lennox wiped the sweat off her brow with her arm and then pulled out her cell phone. She quickly searched for a five-star hotel, picking one that wasn’t too far away. If she had to stay for another couple of days, she could do it in style. They would have better security, she reasoned. Or any security for that matter.

After making the reservation, she grabbed her stuff and checked out of Hotel Hell. She made her way to the new hotel, trying not to glance over her shoulder the whole time.

She checked the address again and then stared at the street. The hotel had to be down the alley. Great. Another dive, but it had said five-star. She bit her lip as she entered the alley. If it sucked, she could leave. Honestly, she was exhausted and completely freaked out at being shot at. People had been following her for a while now. She’d bump into them and then lose them, but this was the first time anyone had actually shot at her. She needed a drink.

The ground of the alley was covered by a red carpet that led to two huge carved wooden doors. Now this was more like it.

The moment Lennox stepped through the carved wooden doors, the chaos of the day seemed to fall away behind her.

Cool air brushed against her skin, scented faintly with orange blossom, cedarwood, and something smoky she couldn’t place. Candlelight flickered across polished, cream-colored plaster walls, while enormous brass lanterns hung from carved arches overhead, scattering fractured gold across the tiled floor. Somewhere deeper inside the riad, water trickled softly.

“Welcome, Madame Abbington,” the front desk attendant said with a warm smile after she checked in. He stepped out from behind the reception desk. “If you will follow me.”

Lennox adjusted her grip on the knockoff designer bags hanging from her wrist and followed him through the maze-like interior.

The hotel didn’t feel like a hotel. It felt like a hidden palace.

Every corridor opened into another breathtaking courtyard. One held a long black marble reflecting pool surrounded by towering palms and flickering candles. Another was drenched in sunlight beneath intricate latticework balconies, the air scented by jasmine climbing the walls. Hand-cut tiles covered nearly every surface in geometric patterns of emerald, cobalt, ivory, and gold. The ceilings above were ornately detailed, carved cedar painted in rich jewel tones that made the entire place feel centuries old and impossibly expensive at the same time.

Somewhere nearby, low Moroccan music drifted through the air. The faint clink of glasses and muted conversation floated up from a rooftop terrace.

“This riad dates back several hundred years,” the attendant explained as they climbed a narrow staircase lit by lanterns recessed into niches in the walls. “Each suite is unique.”

Unique. That was one word for it.

Nothing matched, yet somehow everything belonged together. Velvet settees sat beneath ancient arches. Silken drapes framed doorways. Massive antique doors banded in black iron looked like they belonged in a fortress rather than a luxury hotel.

Lennox kept her expression neutral, but her instincts stayed sharp. Places like this were designed to lull people into lowering their guard. Rich travelers came here looking for fantasy, privacy, indulgence, escape.

She’d chosen this place because it offered five-star service but also because it was harder to track someone inside a maze.

The attendant stopped outside a heavily carved door and pushed it open.

Her suite looked less like a room and more like something stolen from a sultan’s private residence. A massive bed draped in gauzy white linen dominated the center of the room beneath an ornate domed ceiling. Colored glass lanterns cast jewel-toned shadows across the walls. French doors stood open to a private terrace overlooking the rooftops of Marrakech, where the distant sunset call to prayer echoed across the city.

Lennox stepped inside slowly, every instinct she possessed still humming beneath her skin.

The attendant gave her a tour of the room’s amenities, of which there were many, and then bowed graciously over the tip she’d given him. She leaned against the closed door and glanced around the room again. This was heaven, and she never wanted to leave ever again.

Lennox set her suitcase on the rack and opened it. She took her time

shaking out each piece of clothing, making sure that she hadn’t brought anything unwanted from the other hotel.

A wave of guilt washed over her. Here she was in a five-star hotel, and who knew where her little sister was. It had been part of the reason she had been staying in that other shit-hole of a hotel. She felt guilt that she hadn’t found her sister yet. Guilt that she didn’t take good enough care of her. Guilt that maybe she didn’t teach her enough about how to manage herself, how to look after things, how not to get taken. Lennox knew it was stupid to feel responsible for her sister’s kidnapping, but it didn’t change anything, and now here she was, ensconced in five-star luxury.

She sat down heavily on the bed and pulled the picture out of her bag. It was the last shot she had of her sister. Someone had taken a picture of Chloe while she was standing on a boardwalk in Ibiza. Almost four months ago now. She was laughing, her long dark hair caught in the breeze. Chloe had sent it to her with the message, “Having fun in Ibiza. Wish you were here!”

When Chloe had disappeared, Lennox had gone to a photo studio and gotten the picture printed out properly. She wanted to have something that showed her sister being happy. Right now, the picture made her want to cry.