One Secret Night

Chapter 1

One of Hollywood’s favorite heartbreakers had just spent the day being an ordinary tourist in distressed-denim jeans. Being normal rejuvenated Autumn Ivy. Here, she was no longer a spectacle. Here, she could escape the ridiculous extravaganza over the last man to fall prey to her flirtation. All of that had fallen away with the sights of Iceland’s spectacular southern coastline.

Autumn entered the hotel, almost regretting the day had come to an end.

The guide had taken her and the other tourists in the group through villages, Skaftafell National Park and the Skogafoss waterfall. Most memorable was the boat ride in the Jokulsarlon glacial lagoon. The boat could also drive on land. She’d taken pictures of icebergs covered in volcanic ash floating out to sea and gorges and valleys of the enormous Vatnajokull glacier. Everything about this day had been perfect. Everything except the jeans.

Slinging her purse from left shoulder to right hip, her waterproof hiking boots touched soundlessly on the tiled floor as she headed for the elevators. Her long, light red hair swung in a tight ponytail. It was around seven and she’d stopped for dinner on the way back to the hotel. She couldn’t wait to soak in the Jacuzzi in her room and put on a pretty nightgown. Maybe she’d do her nails.

A man with a shaved head waited at the elevators. His gray eyes followed her movements as she stopped a few feet from him to wait. He’d already pressed the button. Thin and over six feet tall, he looked to be in his late thirties. The way he kept watching her made her uneasy. It was almost ten at night and there weren’t many people in the lobby.

Another man approached. This one drew her eye much more notably. A couple of inches taller than the shaved-head man, his body was sculpted with muscle. Autumn feasted on the sight of him. Dressed all in black, from his sturdy leather boots and cargo pants to the long-sleeved Under Armour shirt with a quarter zip, he had black hair that was far above his shoulders but thick. His green eyes glowed like lanterns and zeroed in on her. Dark stubble added to his manly appearance. So did the way he moved, smooth and sure. The platform of his chest and bulging arms oozed testosterone, but the bulge of his crotch stirred her curiosity most.

Although man enough to add to her heartbreaker reputation, she’d rather stay out of the limelight awhile longer. The elevator doors opened and Autumn debated whether she should wait for the next one. The shaved-head man stepped inside, and the other man followed. The two eyed each other and then waited for her. The shaved-head man pressed the button that would keep the door open, and the man in black didn’t seem to like that. Autumn shook off the weird feeling she had and stepped into the elevator.

The man in black pressed the top floor, which also happened to be hers. The other man pressed the button for the sixth floor.

Standing nearest the elevator doors, Autumn glanced back to her right at the man with the shaved head. His gaze shifted from the other man to her. She glanced back to her left. The man in black looked right at her.

She faced forward, watching the floor lights as the elevator slowed to a stop at the sixth floor. The doors began to slide open.

The shaved-head man stepped forward, but instead of getting out of the elevator, he hooked his arm around Autumn’s waist, pinning her arms and locking her against him. She sucked in a startled breath. Was that a knife he had at her throat? While she struggled not to panic, he turned with her and backed out of the elevator. The man in black had drawn a gun from somewhere in his clothes. How had he concealed it? Autumn met the stranger’s green eyes and felt him assess her. She focused on his cool demeanor and kept fear from robbing her of clear thought.

Why are you following me? the man who held her asked, stopping out in the hall.

Let her go and I won’t have to kill you, came the other man’s unruffled response.

Autumn looked down the hall without moving her head. It was empty. The stranger took a step forward and the man behind her adjusted his hold. She unzipped her purse at the same time. If she could get to her Mace...

Don’t come any closer, the shaved-head man said.

Let her go.

The stranger wasn’t going to negotiate. There was something ominous about him. Deadly.

"Wait a minute...I know you," the shaved-head man said.

Let her go or die.

They knew each other? Autumn sensed the man behind her assess the bigger one and see that he was not afraid. She believed he would kill the one with the knife to her throat. Her captor must have picked up on the same signals. The hand with the knife faltered as though he was considering leaving her and running.

He glanced down the hall. In his brief distraction, the other man fired a silenced shot. But instead of shooting to kill, he shot lower. Her captor yelled and his grasp on her loosened as he stumbled. Autumn shoved the knife away from her and twisted free to run down the hall.

As she looked back, she tripped and fell, tumbling over the commercial-grade carpeting. Sitting on her rear, hands braced behind her, she watched the shaved-head man stagger into the stairwell and the man in black follow.

Autumn considered making a run for her room. A sense of obligation stopped her. The stranger had saved her and she couldn’t leave without making sure he was all right. Dangerous curiosity played into her motivation, as well. Why had he gone after the shaved-head man and how did the two know each other?

Climbing to her feet, she adjusted her purse and hurried to the stairwell door. Inside, she saw the man in black kick the other down a flight of stairs and then jog down after him. On that landing, the shaved-head man blocked the first two of the stranger’s strikes and then missed the next few well-placed blows. The man in black moved fluidly, blocking the smaller man’s attempted kick and then jumping up and pushing off the wall with his feet. Airborne, he swung his leg and clocked the other man on the side of the head before flipping his body back to the floor. The other man fell against the metal railing, retaliating with an unsteady swipe of the knife. The man in black had to leap back to avoid being sliced.

That’s when Autumn realized he’d tucked his gun into the back waist of his pants. He didn’t intend to kill the man. He kicked the other man’s arm before he had a chance to stab him. The knife flew into the air and fell to the cement floor. The smaller man charged, ramming the man in black. The two crashed against the wall. The man in black rammed his knee to the other man’s sternum. A punch sent the man back a step. The smaller man had managed to come away with the man in black’s gun. But he kicked that man’s wrist again and the gun went the way of the knife. Before the smaller man could recover, the man in black drove his hand into his throat. Stumbling backward, the smaller man choked and gurgled, putting his hand to his neck. Falling against the opposite wall, he stared at the man in black and then slumped to the floor, where he went motionless.

Had the man in black just killed him?

Autumn gripped the cold metal railing.

Bending to pick up his gun, the man in black tucked it back into his pants, where she now noticed there was a holster that his shirt covered. Then he went to the man’s body and began searching his clothes, all very methodical and cold. Finding a cell phone, he stuffed that into his front pant pocket and then looked up at her before climbing the stairs.

He was a man practiced at what he’d just done. Kill a man with one hand...

Things like this never happened to her. They happened to her siblings Arizona and Lincoln. Not her. Shopping happened to her. Nail salons. Trips to new and exotic places.

The stranger stopped before her. We have to get out of here.

She came out of her stupor. Wh-what? Did he mean to run away?

He took her hand in his and led her up to the next floor.

We have to call the police, she said.

No police.

Were they going to leave the body there for someone to find? She began to resist, tugging her hand. She’d go contact the police. The fact that he had no intention of doing so made her suspect he had a criminal element to him.

Let me go, she demanded.

At the door leading out of the stairwell, he stopped and put his hands on her shoulders. That man was wanted by the FBI. I tracked him here and was supposed to arrest him.

But he hadn’t had the chance. The man had taken her hostage. It was only when the other man had gone after his gun that he’d had to use deadly force.

You’re FBI? She began to feel marginally better. What did he do?

He’s a well-known assassin.

An... He killed people? He said he knew you.

His name is Tabor Creighton. I’ve been looking for him for a while now.

This was too strange and unreal. Should she trust this man? What he’d told her so far seemed plausible and yet she hesitated. How do you know each other?

He cocked his head in growing impatience.

Tell me or we part ways right now and I’m calling security. She dug out her phone for her purse.

Before she could lift it all the way out, he put his hand on her wrist. She looked up.

One of the people he murdered was a woman who was rescued from the Middle East.

What did he mean, rescued? Why did he murder her? Was it just her or was he reluctant to talk about this?

She met and married an Arab man in the United States, who then convinced her to move with him to his homeland. She had two kids with him and finally couldn’t take his mistreatment any longer. She was killed less than a month after her rescue. Her children are being raised by her parents now.

Oh... she breathed with the awfulness of that, looking down the stairs. The assassin was out of sight, but she imagined him there. How terrible for some unwitting person to stumble upon all that gore. Okay, he’s a bad person, but we can’t just leave him lying there.

After a moment of considering her, he said, I was going to get you out of here first. Then he took out a phone and made a call. ‟Yes. Hello. I was just visiting someone in a room here and heard a gunshot. It sounded like it came from the stairwell." With that, and the faint sound of the clerk asking him questions, he disconnected and put his phone away.

Let’s go. He held out his hand.

She didn’t take it. Folding her arms, she stuck out her right foot. Why aren’t we calling the police? And why did you hang up on that person like that?