Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(76)

He nodded and sat in silence for a moment. “I’ll be great actually. I have some last minute things I’d like to do.”

“Perfect. I should be about an hour. Want me to bring up some food?”

“I’ll order us room service. It’ll be here waiting for you after you’ve worked up an appetite.”

I nodded and spit the frothy goo in the sink then rinsed my mouth. I grabbed my workout gear from my bag, feeling the hot burn of his stare, and dressed quickly. “I’ll be back soon. Be sure to check the door before you open it for room service.”

“Absolutely. Can’t be too careful.”



. . .



I took the elevator to the gym. The room was empty except for one other man. He was older, probably mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair—a stereotypical businessman getting his morning workout in while away on business. He was plugged in and was attuned to a CNN broadcast on the flat screen on the wall in front of him and hadn’t noticed I’d entered.

A story about the rising tensions in the Middle East was on. Images of tanks and U.S. troops walking through the desert with guns slung over their shoulders popped up on the screen. The dolled up brunette newscaster who’d been reading the story lowered her head then moved onto to the next segment. “Security Breach at National Bank Corporation” a banner said below her. That was Avery’s bank. I leaned on a neighboring machine and listened.

Hackers had targeted the bank’s business and confidential records, but the silver lining was all personal accounts had been untouched. They said it was one of the largest security breaches in U.S. history. I watched until the end of her broadcast with my heart racing. The ticker tape of NASDAQ and NYSE stock symbols scrolled along the bottom as I absorbed the information. I wondered if Stephen had seen the story. It couldn’t have meant good things.

I needed to get through my workout and get back up to the room. I chose my machine: the treadmill—my nemesis. I turned on my music, hopped on my torture device and began my assault. The stale scent of alcohol bled through my pores and stained my clothes. When I could barely stand, my onslaught was over. Drenched, I headed back up to the room.

I slid my keycard into the slot, and the cold air snatched the heat from my skin.

“Welcome back,” Stephen called, his voice coming from inside the office area.

“Smells good in here.” I shut the door and slid the extra lock in place.

He met me next to a silver cart positioned next to the bed. He lifted domed lids off Belgian waffles, pancakes, eggs, toast, and bacon. There were plentiful sides of Vermont maple syrup in maple leaf shaped bottles and generous dollops of sweet cream butter. All the food was piping hot, and the smell was indescribably wonderful. There was no way I’d wait until after I showered to eat the feast laid out in front of me.

“Hey, did you see the story on the news?” I asked.

“What story?” Stephen replied, not looking up from his plate of pancakes.

“The NBC got hacked yesterday.” His eyes shot to mine, and he dropped his fork. “All kinds of business records were stolen.”

“Jesus, no I hadn’t. That’s not good.” He put his hands up and worked out the tension in his forehead.

“Try to stay calm. Hopefully whatever information Avery has will help clear this up.” I reached for his hand resting on the table and squeezed it.

“Thanks, Di.” He smiled.

As we ate, I reviewed some of the more technical elements of the meeting and where everyone would be. When I felt he understood everything, I got up and showered.

Time edged around to twelve o’clock. I dressed and sat on the chair, zipping into my boots. As I stood, I looked out the window and enjoyed the view one last time. Cincinnati really is a beautiful city.

While I’d been showering, Stephen had packed all of his things. The items he’d brought with him were gathered into his one duffle bag and into his backpack.

“You ready?” I asked.

He’d slipped into a pair of tan slacks and wore the same button up shirt he’d worn the night before, casually untucked. “As I’ll ever be,” he said, lifting the backpack onto his shoulder. “Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

I nodded. “You’re welcome.” I gathered my clothing and the rest of my things. I tucked Stephen’s gun along the side of my clothing and closed my suitcase. We were ready and headed out.



. . .



Out at the valet station steam rose from the black asphalt. It was eleven thirty. An early shower had popped up dropping a few heavy buckets of rain, but the clouds had dissipated. Overhead was a clear blue sky and thick summer air.

I handed my ticket to the valet and a few moments later, the company’s black Range Rover pulled in front of the building.

“Put your bag in the trunk and only carry what’s absolutely necessary with you,” I said.

The valet walked around the car and took my suitcase and opened the trunk.

“No problem.” Stephen escorted the valet to the rear of the vehicle and dropped off his duffle bag, but kept his backpack.

I got into the car and took a moment to readjust my seat. When my feet touched the pedals, I glanced into the rear view mirror. Stephen’s head came into view. The valet shut the trunk and slipped something into his pocket, wearing a large grin. Stephen must have tipped him.