The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(53)

Suddenly a hand reached between the closing doors, barely avoiding an amputation. I jolted to an upright position, somewhat irritated by the unexpected company on what had promised to be a very peaceful elevator ride. Most likely at this time of night it was a group of drunk twenty-somethings who could barely stand up and would probably start pressing all the buttons like a Ritalin-deprived ADD child...or worse yet, another bachelor party.

But when the doors opened there was only one person standing on the other side. And he was now sober as hell.

It was Parker.

And he definitely did not look happy.

I swallowed hard and eyed the doorway, wondering if I would be safer out there or in here. Spatial logic told me a wide-open hallway with an endless supply of doors to bang on was a much better bet than an eight-by-eight-foot elevator with an emergency stop button glowing in red.

"We need to talk," he said matter-of-factly, his hand still holding the door open.

I struggled to keep my composure, staring him straight in the eye, just as I had done only a few hours before at the poker table. I'm not afraid of you, my glare said. But the truth was probably far less heroic.

I said nothing, letting the silence speak for itself.

"I love Lauren. We're getting married in three weeks. And I'm not going to let you and your stupid little fidelity – whatever the f*ck it is – get in the way of that."

"Probably should have thought of that before you attempted to put your hand in my crotch," I shot back, and then immediately regretted it. The best way to deal with an outraged husband or, in this case, fiancé, is to say nothing. Keep calm and add nothing to the conversation that might fuel his rage.

"It's my bachelor party!" he shouted back, as if this was supposed to convince me to walk away and forget the whole thing.

"Unfortunately, I don't think my client sees it the way that you do," I replied coolly and evenly.

Parker groaned. "Lauren would never do this. She would never hire someone to set me up. It had to be her father. He was the one who hired you, wasn't he?"

I didn't respond.

"Roger Ireland is a stuck-up old man who will never find anyone good enough for his precious daughter."

I stood strong in front of him, my stance confident, my eyes unyielding. "If you'll kindly remove your hand from the door, I'd like to leave now."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the number 24 still lit up like a beacon guiding everyone and anyone right to my hotel room. I prayed he wouldn't step into the elevator and notice the illuminated button. He couldn't know that I was staying in this hotel, or worse, what floor I was staying on. He had to think what all the men think, that I mysteriously disappear into the night like a figment of his imagination, never to be seen or heard from again.

Parker's once-reserved irritation suddenly erupted into full-blown rage. "Okay, this is ridiculous." His voice level rose at least three decibels. "I'm not going to just let you walk out of this hotel and run home to tell my fiancée and that freak of a father of hers that I 'almost' had sex with you." His mocking intonation on the word "almost" left no question of his sentiment regarding this procedure.

Thankfully during his mini-rampage he had thrown his arms violently in the air, releasing the doors in the process.

I took a step backward into the center of the elevator car and pressed down hard on the Close Door button. "With all due respect, Mr. Colman. You don't really have a choice."

The doors began to close on cue, and just when I thought I was in the clear, his hand came through the crack again and pushed them back open, stepping menacingly into the elevator with me, now even more pissed-off than before.

That's when my heart rate started to speed up. I had dealt with angry men in the past. It was an obvious part of the job. It's not like a husband who has just failed his inspection is going to say something like "Oh well, my bad. Thanks for helping me realize what's really wrong with my marriage." Most of the time they get angry, so it normally doesn't come as a surprise when they do.

But this guy was taking it too far. And I wasn't about to be in a confined space with him in this condition. Plus, he had been drinking all night. Excessive alcohol plus knowing your fiancée is probably going to call off your wedding in a matter of days, plus, well, let's face it, blue balls...is not a happy combination.

Parker stepped right next to me and clamped his large hand around the upper part of my left arm. His grasp was tight and filled with warning. It felt like I was getting my blood pressure taken at the doctor's office and the new nurse on staff had no idea when to stop pumping air into the armband.

"I don't think you understand what I'm saying." He spoke softly but ominously.

I knew my next move had to be fast in order to catch him off guard.

He turned his head slightly and I immediately sprung into action. I reached up with my right hand, grabbed the wrist he was using to hold on to my arm, and twisted it swiftly and forcefully opposite the way it was intended to bend. His grasp immediately loosened as his body fell forward. As soon as my other arm was free I rammed it upward, making full contact with his nose. He toppled over in pain and, most of all, shock.

"What the hell...?" he yelled, reaching for his bleeding nose and struggling to stand upright. But the impact with his nose was not helping his balance. He stumbled toward me. I knew that with him at six foot two and approximately two hundred pounds and me at five foot six, and barely passing the 110 mark, I was no match for him physically. So I had to use my present position to my advantage.