He's determined to protect her, but the secrets she keeps may destroy her.
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Tabitha swiped her room key, opening the door. Before she’d had a chance to enter, Solomon had pushed past her to cross the threshold ahead of her.
Following swiftly on his heels—she opened her mouth to protest, but instead collided into his back with a thud when he abruptly stopped room. He’d gone stiff as a board. Tabitha could practically feel the angry energy emanating from his being.
On instinct, she shifted her gaze to see what had caused him to suddenly stop in his tracks. Her eyes narrowed and moved with precision around the room: left, center, right, and back again; right, center, left. The room was in shambles. The covers from the mattress had been tossed, all of the dresser drawers were open, and the contents of her carryall were in a heap on top of the bed.
She clenched her keycard in her hand—her knuckles straining against the card; her body trembled with anger. It took everything in her not to scream out the fury that she felt.
“Who knew you were staying at this particular hotel?” Solomon asked, his face expressionless.
His words reverberated around the room, and she repeated them in her head, Who knew you were staying in this particular hotel? That was a good question. Who?
“No one. I purposely chose not to stay in the hotel with the bridal party and the other models; however, I did book a room there, and I also checked in,” Tabitha replied, her voice somber.
Think back Tabitha. What did you miss?
Again, she scanned the room quickly, trying to commit everything to memory. To her trained eye, nothing appeared to be missing—just messy. She did, however, notice a lone piece of paper sitting in plain site in the middle of the mess on the bed. Tabitha recognized the shape and color of the slip of paper; she’d seen it often enough in the past year. She hoped Solomon didn’t notice it too. Now she only had to get to it before Solomon thought anything of it.
Tabitha made to move and was quickly halted by the sharp piercing tone of Solomon’s voice.
“Don’t you dare move, Tabitha,” Solomon snarled.
“Nonsense. I have to check my things,” she scolded.
“Not before we call the authorities,” he countered.
“No!” she said abruptly. Realizing that her tone may have been a little too brusque, she spoke more softly. “I mean not yet. Please.” Her eyes pleaded with him. She saw his hesitation. “Trust me Solomon.”
Tabitha went to move past him, but his outstretched arm held her back.
“If you’re trying to beat me to that lone piece of paper in the middle of the bed, don’t bother,” he said knowingly, moving swiftly to the bed to retrieve it.
She hurried after him. It was the same as before. The paper was folded in two and was of high quality—linen to be exact. Inside the fold was a lock of brownish black hair. The scrawling on the paper was sharp and precise. It read, Peek-a-boo I see you.
Tabitha’s breath caught in her throat. It took all of her training not to cry out in frustration. In the blink of an eye, she suddenly went from shocked to furious. I am going to get you, you crazed maniac. You and your minions, she thought to herself.
“Since you don’t want to call the authorities, you can’t stay here tonight. I’ll get someone over here to clean this mess up,” Solomon said tersely. “You are going to tell me what’s going on Tabitha. This is personal. I know you’re a part of an agency. Which one, I don’t know yet. This,” he said, holding up the note, “has nothing to do with any agency. This is real personal.”
Tabitha was relieved that though he was furious, he spoke in hushed, even tones, as he’d done since they’d entered the room. He knew the score.
She watched as he walked over to the air conditioner and turned it on full blast. He then walked over to the bathroom and kitchenette area and turned on the water.
“I can’t be seen with you Solomon.” Her voice shook.
“It’s too late now. Undoubtedly, someone’s watching you. There are security cameras all around. Anyone who really wants to know will. Are you married to anything in this room?” he asked, over the loud hum of the air conditioner and running water.
“No,” she answered, her voice scruffy.
“Good. I need to make a call,” he said, walking closer to her.