Replay (Off Track Records Book 4) by Kacey Shea

Author:Kacey Shea [Shea, Kacey]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Publisher: Kacey Shea Books LLC
Published: 2019-03-12T04:00:00+00:00

22

Jayla

I stare at the open exit door next to the hotel employee and try to not let my impatience and frustration show. This door, at the end of an employee-only corridor, has been propped open for God knows how long, and leaves the entire hotel at risk. “And you’re sure one of the employees didn’t do this? Maybe for a smoke break?”

“No, ma’am. We were all given explicit orders from your team to do nothing of the sort. Besides, our employees use the catering exit for smoke breaks.”

I exhale a breath and kick out the brick before tapping my earpiece and speaking aloud to alert the team of a breach. “Unknown person, possibly several, may have accessed the hotel from an unmonitored door. No one gets in or out of that party until threat is cleared.”

There’s an audible chorus of groans in my ear at my words and I feel their pain. We went above and beyond, hired extra staff, and put every plan in place to ensure a relaxing and pleasurable party experience for the band and guests of WMI. And it’s all for shit, because anyone could have come in through this door.

I turn back to the hotel manager. “This door was likely opened by a staff member. I need to know if anyone leaves early, goes home sick, or acts out of character.” The guilty tend to grow a conscious after cash has exchanged hands.

“Of course. I’ll check with each of the on-duty managers now.”

“Thank you.” I nod and walk back toward the main room. This exit doesn’t offer a direct entrance to the party. Someone would have to either sneak through the busy kitchen unnoticed—nearly impossible—or walk out to the main lobby and then enter from there. “Manning?” I say into my Bluetooth. “Get tape of the front lobby and kitchen from the past hour, further back if needed. Our uninvited threat had to enter from there.”

“On it, boss.” He’s running the intel on this event from his seat in one of the hotel rooms, and has an eagle eye view of the party, main entrances, and elevator bank.

My phone buzzes in my hand, an incoming call on the screen. It’s Austin. I grit my teeth at the sight of his name as it scrolls across my cell. I am not in the mood for this right now. If he’s calling because he’s taking that blonde back to his room for the night, so help me, God, I can’t be held responsible for chewing him out.

After his endearing little “Don’t give up on me” speech to the masses on that video he posted, I started to consider his offer. I began envisioning an us—a future together—as more than just friends, or whatever it is we are. We have history, and obvious chemistry, and maybe, just maybe, I could trust him enough to lower my guard. He was asking for patience, after all, and I’d require the same in return.

But it was only an act. I should have known.

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