Chains of Time by R B Woodstone

Author:R B Woodstone
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781649454270
Published: 2020-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

Part II

The Convergence

Nineteen

An elevator door opened onto a carpeted hotel hallway. The walls were painted silver gray; the doors were a dark gray; the rugs were a deeper gray. Even the scene itself seemed gray, as if from an old movie. From the elevator, a lean, olive-skinned man in his thirties craned his head out into the hallway. “Okay,” he whispered, still scanning for onlookers, “I think it’s clear. Come on.”

An attractive dark-skinned woman, younger than he, glided from the elevator, laughing. She wore a light-colored dress with a matching scarf around her neck. “You’re so suspicious. You’re worse than my grandmother. Nobody followed us here.”

The man caught up and made sure to stay one pace in front of her. He was only slightly taller than she, but his pinstripe charcoal suit elongated his slender form. Under his left arm, he carried a black hat with a gray band around it. In his right hand was a small suitcase.

“What’s our room number?” the woman asked.

“Here,” he said, unlocking Room 714. He flipped on the light and led her in before angling his neck out to check the hallway once more. Seeing no one, he set the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle and locked the door.

Immediately, the woman turned out the light and draped herself around his neck, almost hanging from him. “You see?” she laughed. “Nobody followed us. Nobody cares.”

“They care. Trust me, they care.”

She kissed him hard, pressing him against the door. He held her tightly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed. He tried to lower her down gently, but she pulled him on top of her, giggling.

“After eleven months,” she said, “I can’t even believe we’re actually alone.”

The man seemed to relax. He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, his suit jacket opening to reveal a large handgun in a shoulder holster.

“My god,” she gasped, “every time I see that, I want to scream. I wish you didn’t have to wear it all the time.”

“Maybe soon I won’t have to.” He stood and removed his jacket. The Times Square neon flashed in the window, dimly lighting the room, and she watched him in silhouette as he unstrapped the holster and placed it in the bedside drawer next to the Bible and slid the drawer closed. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a white, tank top undershirt. He was thin, but his muscles were taut and defined. There was an easy grace to his movement, almost catlike. He slipped through the room like a lightweight boxer.

He stopped and looked at her staring up at him from the bed, and he smiled. “You are so beautiful.”

“I’m not,” she said, suddenly shy.

He sat beside her and stroked her face with the back of his hand. “You are.”

“Then why aren’t you kissing me, Marco?”

He leaned in toward her. “I love you, Willa.”

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