Four Letters (The Lust List: Devon Stone #3) (2 page)

My hand finds her throat before I can even think to do it. I squeeze her scrawny neck, and her eyes bulge in fear. I lean down close to her ear. “When I let go, you’ll tell me what you’ve been doing to Olivia. You’ll tell me where she is. And you’ll tell me how you got in this room. Do you understand?”

She gives a slight nod, and I release her.

“Start talking.” I fold my arms in front of my chest and work on concealing my worry. One sign of weakness, and this bitch latches on.

“She’s too nice. You deserve better.”

The closest thing within reach is a small glass vase on a table. I grab it and sling it at the wall just above the headboard. Natasha flinches as water and broken glass rain down around her. “Try again you psychotic bitch.”

“It was just too easy, Devon. She’s too kind and giving and too caught up in the death of her brother. I got on a bus with her in Oregon. That, and one short meeting, was all I needed to get her working with me. And the more she trusted me, the closer I got to you. Tonight, she was practically groveling at my feet. So I took her hotel key. And I took her place.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I was with her enough. I would’ve heard your name. Seen you.”

“Oh, did you miss the memo? I go by Natalia now. And as always, I’ve been one step ahead of you, sweetheart.” She shifts on the bed again, running her foot up along the opposite leg. “I know what’s best for you. And I know what you want.”

I look around. The handcuff keys. I snatch them off the floor and shove them into my pocket. “One step ahead. Right. I’ll be back, and this time, your ass is going to jail.”

Olivia

It’s so dark. Am I still unconscious?

No. A pounding in my head is getting worse. Stars flash across my vision. It’s pitch black, and I’m lying on something metal. How much did I drink tonight? I’ve never blacked out before.

Natalia. It’s all coming back like a slow motion replay. She betrayed me.

She attacked me.

Why?

Devon. She wants Devon.

Oh god. What’s she going to do to him? I have to get up.

Move Olivia!

The pain in my head is paralyzing. The rest of my body feels sore and scraped and
buzzing?
There’s a buzzing in my chest I can’t explain. Rhythmic, matching my inhales. How do heart attacks begin? Is this one?

When my hand touches my chest, the buzzing feels even stronger. Oh wait, it’s my phone. I remember I’d stuffed it in my corset before helping Natalia. That lying bitch.

Pulling my phone out, I feel instantly relieved. It’s Devon. He’s okay.

I hold it to my ear and say hello. At least, I try to say hello.

“Olivia, you there? Where are you?”

Good question. I answer him. Well, I try to answer. Words don’t seem to want to come out. “I don’t know,” I mumble.

The light from the phone illuminates the space around me. When I hold it out, I find I’m in a small storage room. How the hell did I get in here?

Devon’s still talking, but I can’t concentrate. I need out of here. I need to find him.

“Olivia,” I hear him say. He sounds so distant. And so, so angry. “That bitch stole the key card. She went to the penthouse thinking I’d—never mind. You still there?”

I bring the phone back to my ear as I push myself up to standing. “I’m here,” I say slowly. My legs wobble, and I grab a ladder to steady my balance.

Using my phone to light the way, I slowly spin, looking for a door. There’s a shelf, a wall, another wall. I look at the shelf again. It’s open on both sides. I push boxes to the side. Ahh, things make more sense now. Bitch dumped me in the back of this room. The door’s around the shelf.

Beep.

Shit. I look at my phone. Devon sounds more frantic. “Olivia. Talk to me. What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Beep.
My phone’s at one percent battery. Not good.

“Devon,” I say, still holding my phone out. He can probably hear me. “My phone’s about to die. I need the light. Give me a second.”

I step over a crate, using the dim light to lead the way. I see a light switch and rush to it. By rush, I mean, I stumble and wince with each step. But I make it and flick the light on.

Blinding. Bright. I shield my eyes and fight the urge to cry.

“Devon. I’m okay, but—” My phone dies. “Dammit.”

I reach for the door only to find the knob removed. “Double dammit.” Can this night get any worse?

I stash my phone back in my corset top. My eyes adjust to the bright light in this small space, and I take a second to evaluate my own condition. A steel shelf on one wall offers some reflection. The side of my head is covered in dried blood. My own, apparently.

A deep bruise is forming around my right temple, stretching out to my eye. My body feels sore but looks unscathed. Did she drag me? I’m sure more bruises will be making an appearance soon. Worst of all, my gorgeous gown is a wreck. What had Calypso Day said? Not to ruin this dress the first time I wore it? And that’s exactly what happened.

Wait. How is this the worst of my problems? I’m locked in a damn storage room and probably suffering from a concussion. A crazy ass, lying woman attacked me tonight. And I don’t have a way to get ahold of Devon again.

Sorry, dress. You’re the least of my worries.

I look at the door. It looks like she removed the knob from this side, but not from the other. What the hell kind of a plan was this? I peek down into the giant hole where the knob should be, staring at the metal mechanism that’s keeping me imprisoned here.

Fortunately, I’m no idiot.
Hear that, Natalia. Screw you and your juvenile attempts at trapping me.
I’m in a storage closet, surrounded by random tools and materials. It takes all of two seconds to find a screwdriver. Not sure what to do with it, but I’m certain I can take things apart until the whole door falls down. I thrust the screwdriver into the door’s hole, looking for any parts that seem like they’ll move.

There’s one. When I put the screwdriver into a small hole in the metal, something jiggles. I twist it and push and pull and beg the thing to do something. I yell at it and ram my entire, aching body into the wood door…

And it gives. I tumble into a hallway. Yes! I am woman, hear me roar. Never mind how much grace that lacked.

But now where am I? This hallway is completely empty, darker than I’d expect, and has very few doors. But my adrenaline is pumping, and I know Devon is looking for me. I pick a direction and walk—limp—as fast as I can. Each door, I pass, I open. More closets, a small office. This has to be an employee-only area.

But a break in one wall renews my hope. I turn down into another hallway, and after trying a few doors (all locked), I find one that’s extra familiar.

A stairwell. Apparently, I’m on the second floor. Seriously, how’d Natalia get me here? Did she have help? By the way I feel, I can only assume she dragged me, unconscious, banging me into every wall and step on the way.

I start down the stairs, struggling with each. What time is it? Only hours ago, Devon and I were in here…

I reach the bottom step and stare at the wall Devon had pressed me against earlier. Emotions rush at me faster than Natalia hitting me with a block of solid wood. How had it all gone so wrong? Tears burn my eyes, and it hurts like hell to wipe them away. The gala. Spending the night with Rhys and Christopher and Maddie and Devon. It had been perfect. Devon took Maddie home. We made plans to stay here for the night. It feels like so long ago, but it wasn’t. How long was I unconscious?

I take a deep breath trying to regain my focus. Just find Devon. But I can’t peel my eyes away from the stairs. My heel digging into that last step holding me steady. The feeling of Devon’s mouth on my skin—of the orgasm that took hold of me. He’d felt so good in me—his strong arms holding me up. It had been sexy and thrilling. Hell, we’d almost been caught. Was the intruder Natalia? My stomach turns at the thought. I have to get out of here.

Out through the door, exiting into the main hallway, I walk toward the gala room, forcing down the waves of nausea. My body’s so weak, and my ego crushed. I’m embarrassed by how naive I was to have trusted Natalia.

“Olivia!”

I turn toward his voice. There he is. My Devon. I’ll be okay now. He rushes to me, cupping my face in his hands. It hurts, but I don’t care.

“My god, what did she do to you?”

“I—I don’t remember it all. She hit me. With those memorial plaques that were on the tables.”

“She hit you with a photo of your brother? That’s really fucked up.”

Then I can’t help myself. I start laughing. It’s uncontrollable, but what else do I do in this ridiculous situation? It wasn’t that long ago that I was normal, simple Olivia. All the things that made me nervous and cautious in my old life—those were nothing compared to what I’m experiencing now.

“Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Devon asks.

“No. Or…maybe? I don’t know. Do you know what the hell is going on? Why did Natalia attack me?”

I lean into Devon letting him support me. He walks me to a cozy lounge area so I can sit down while he explains. The hotel is asleep at this point. I hear someone at the front reception, but otherwise, all is quiet. It’s a little creepy after the night I’ve had.

“Her real name is Natasha,” Devon says. “I have a restraining order against her, but clearly that’s not keeping her away anymore.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah. And I feel bad I couldn’t protect you. I had no idea you were working with her. How is it possible I never saw her?”

I think back to the times Devon and Natalia—
Natasha
—were in the same place. The restaurant when we first met up—where she’d changed locations at the last minute. The TV shoot—where she disappeared for most of it. The gala itself tonight—where she stayed in the background. I only saw her when Devon was away from our table. Holy shit, she’s been orchestrating this whole thing.

“She’s one sneaky bitch.”

“You’re telling me. Remember when I told you about those phone calls I was getting? The ones I thought were coming from you while we were apart?” He rests his hand on my leg. A tingle rushes through me, and all my conflicted feelings and aches and pains and urges make me want to scream.

Instead I nod in understanding. “I told you it wasn’t me. My number wouldn’t come up as Unknown.” Then another thought occurs to me. “Crap. The first time she came to my apartment, I was talking to Maddie. When I walked back to the living room to talk to Natalia—
Natasha
. I’m just calling her Nat. My head hurts too much to keep it straight. Anyway, when I came back out, she was gone. She’d been in my room. She said she was lost. That’s where my phone was. That’s how she got your number.”

“It sickens me more that she knows where you live.”

I shrug. “I’m too dazed to think about that. Where is she now? Creeping around outside my apartment? In another state?”

“Upstairs,” Devon answers. “Cuffed to the bed.”

Why would she be? An image comes to me. Gross. She was going to
seduce
Devon while I was trapped in a closet?

“What do we do now?”

“For one, I’m calling in my guys and getting ahold of my lawyer. This psycho’s getting locked up.”

In a matter of minutes, two guys in black suits show up. They’re big, beefy, security detail-types. We meet them in the lobby, and I’m sure the sight of me—the blood dried to my face—is enough confirmation that calling them out this late was justified.

We load into the elevator and make our way to the top. I stifle another fit of giggles. This should’ve been me, hours ago. On my way up to wait for Devon. Tonight should’ve ended on a high note—the two of us naked in his bed. Instead, I’m a beat-up mess still trying to grasp what’s happening. Devon’s holding my hand, his free hand clenched into a fist, and two big dudes with guns escort us up to Natalia—
dammit
,
Nat
. She’s going down.

The elevator dings and we pile out.

“We’ve got this Mr. Stone.” One of the guards takes Devon’s key card and unlocks the door. Devon and I stand back, staying in the hallway, his arms wrapped securely around me. It’s like he really does feel bad about all this, as though it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, Olivia. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“You couldn’t have known.” I turn to face him. “None of us knew. And you’re here now. It’ll be okay.”

I focus on him rather than the scene that must be occurring inside the penthouse. When I see that bitch’s face…On second thought, I need to prepare for Devon’s reaction. He’s going to want to kill her. I rest my head on his chest listening to the pounding of his heartbeat.

“Mr. Stone?” one of the guards calls from inside. “The room’s clear.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. “That lingo for
it’s safe to enter
?”

“Guess so.” He takes my hand and we walk in together, our heads held high.

“Sir. There’s no sign of her. The suite’s completely empty.”

An empty room, empty bed, and an empty feeling in my stomach.

Where the hell is she?