Chapter 6 - THE SHADOW IN THE CORRIDOR
The threat was delivered without raised voice or dramatic posture, but the absolute truth of it chilled Clare to her bone marrow.
Nicholas pulled down the latch and slowly swung the heavy walnut door open into the quiet, carpeted hallway.
Clare stepped across the threshold instantly, her non-slip shoes hitting the runner. She felt a wave of profound relief wash over her as the wide, familiar space of the hotel corridor opened up before her.
Nicholas remained standing inside the frame of the door, his tall figure partially shadowed by the suite's entryway lighting.
Clare turned back to look at him, preparing to walk toward her housekeeping cart parked twenty yards down the hall.
"And Clare..." Nicholas called out quietly.
Clare stopped, turning her head back toward the doorway.
Nicholas was no longer looking at her.
His chin was raised, his dark eyes locked onto something past her shoulder, staring down the long, empty stretch of the forty-second-floor corridor toward the far corner where the elevators were located.
"Next time," Nicholas said smoothly, his tone shifting from casual instruction to sharp, military alertness, "double-check the room number."
Clare frowned, confused by the sudden change in his energy. "What?"
"Someone is already watching this hallway," Nicholas murmured, his body tensing under his open shirt.
A cold prickling sensation spread across the back of Clare’s neck. Slowly, terrifyingly, she turned her body around to look down the long corridor.
At the far end of the carpeted hall, fifty feet away near the ice machine alcove, a dark figure was stepping back behind the corner wall. All Clare caught was the briefest glimpse—the edge of a heavy dark coat and a flash of polished leather shoes—before the shadow vanished completely behind the marble pillar.
Clare’s breath caught in her throat. Someone had been standing there. Someone had been watching Suite 4227.
When Clare looked back over her shoulder, Nicholas’s expression had completely changed. The calm, detached composure was gone, replaced by the deadly, hyper-vigilant focus of a predator who realized he had just been cornered.
His eyes met hers one last time—a sharp, unspoken command for her to move, to run, to get clear of the crossfire.
Before she could speak another word, Nicholas reached out and pulled the heavy walnut door shut between them.
May you like
CLICK.
The lock engaged. Clare Bennett stood alone in the quiet corridor, clutching her tablet, as the heavy silence of Floor 42 closed in around her.
