The House Down the Lane (Darcy Hunt FBI Mystery Suspense Thriller Book 6) by Eva Sparks

Author:Eva Sparks [Sparks, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Silver Palazzo Hotel and Casino

Atlantic City, NJ

“One room for a single night,” I tell the desk clerk, sliding my license and credit card across the counter.

“Certainly,” she says. “And is there a reservation?”

“No. No reservation.”

She picks up my license and begins typing in my information. “And what kind of room would you like?”

“Standard is fine. Queen bed, non-smoking.”

A frown pinches her brow. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hunt. It looks like you do have a reservation.”

“There must be some mistake. I didn’t call ahead.” As I speak, I get the unsettling sensation that I’m being watched. Turning away from the desk, I scan the lobby. My eyes fall on a man standing beside a large potted tree. He’s wearing a black leather blazer and a black ball cap with the NY Yankees logo stitched on it. He’s heavyset, with a scruffy beard and a broad mouth. When our eyes finally meet, he nods, offers a knowing smile, then exits the hotel out the revolving door.

I turn back to the clerk. “My apologies,” I tell her. “I must have forgotten.”

“No problem at all. And it looks like you have a deluxe suite on the forty-ninth floor, so you’ll have a lovely view of the ocean.”

“Wonderful.”

When I look back over my shoulder, Bugsy’s man is gone. For the reasons I gave Bugsy earlier, I would have preferred to pay for my own room. But rejecting this one and paying for another myself won’t work. Between now and the time I check out, Bugsy will have made sure he settled the payment himself. So this time, I can’t exactly look this gift horse in the mouth, even though it was given by someone I would love to see rotting in prison.

“Okay,” the clerk says. “Here is your key card. Breakfast is in the dining hall, beginning at six in the morning. The elevators right over there will take you up to your room.

“For anything I might want to charge to my room, can I give you a different card?” I ask her.

“You mean from the one we have on file?”

“Yes. If I can.”

“Certainly,” she says.

I slip a credit card from my wallet and hand it over. She swipes it through the card reader and studies her screen. “You’re all set, Ms. Hunt. Enjoy your stay.”

A cheer erupts across the lobby, streaming from the main access to the casino floor. Some lucky winner has apparently won big. Resettling my backpack across my shoulder, I make my way to the elevator and ride it up to the forty-ninth floor. My room is at the end of the hall. After swiping the card in the reader, I push on the door and step into a high-ceilinged, marble-floored foyer.

“Whoooa,” I say out loud as I begin to explore the space. The “room” is more like a penthouse than a suite and probably has more square feet than my modest home. The decor is modern, with muted earthy tones set against quiet splashes of color. I move through a

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