JAXSON
BACK WHEN I HAD BEEN a smoker, I frequently woke up reaching for a pack of Marlboros before I was even conscious of what I was doing.
Right now, I seriously wished the same applied to a bottle of Advil because the banging on the door was making my head feel like a sledgehammer was coming down on it over and over again.
The room was dark, but somehow I managed to find the light. “Hang on,” I yelled.
The clock read six ten.
Who the fuck was at my door this early?
The knocking continued. “I’m coming!”
Forcing myself to get out of bed, I looked around for Sarah, but she wasn’t in the room. Maybe it was her at the door and she’d locked herself out running down to get coffee or something.
Finding my boxers, I punched my legs into them and then pulled on my jeans. In my bare feet, I yanked open the door.
Disgusted eyes peered at me. “You were supposed to meet me downstairs.”
I ran a rough hand down my face. I vaguely recalled responding to my new assistant’s text last night. “Yeah, sorry, Abigail, I overslept. Come in, and I’ll grab your money.”
Abigail Short was the runner-up for the Sports Illustrated contest, and bitter didn’t even begin to describe her. As the runner-up, she had been invited to join the six-week expedition, as my assistant. And she had, albeit reluctantly, agreed.
For some reason, her advance check had been mailed along with mine, and since the weather had delayed her drive from South Carolina to Atlanta, she’d asked me to cash it for her.
I didn’t mind. I had to cash mine, anyway.
With a bitch in her step, she walked in. “Do you think you could put a shirt on? I hope the entire trip isn’t going to be like this.”
Me either I thought as I strode into the bedroom and grabbed for my wallet on the dresser.
Opening it, my mouth fell open. Fury emanated from every pore of my body. Needless to say, I was more than shocked to see it was empty. Never one to panic, I glanced around.
Unwilling to believe it was actually gone, I searched the room. Had I put the money somewhere else? I checked the bathroom, the safe.
Nothing.
I refused to believe I’d been had.
That it had been stolen.
I strode over to the nightstand and when I slammed the last nightstand drawer shut on the Bible, my eye caught sight of something shiny beside the bed. I grabbed for whatever it was.
In my hand I held a set of dog tags that read:
Banks
Theodore A
001–02–0345 Navy
0 Pos
Catholic
My mind whirled back to the old, frayed yellow ribbons tied around the oak trees in our yard. The ones that had been there my entire childhood. Memories I never wanted to recall came rushing back. A young child neglected. Left to take care of himself while his mother lay passed out on the couch. Memories I had pushed away.
“Could you hurry up? I want to grab a few things before our plane takes off,” Abigail called impatiently.
I blinked a few times to clear my head.
Tossing the dog tags on the bed, I strode back into the living room area and searched the bar, the couch, the tables. “Has the flight already been rescheduled?” I asked, trying not to sound alarmed as I roamed the room.
“You mean you haven’t even bothered to check yet?” She huffed in annoyance.
The word bitch sat on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t unleash it. Instead, I searched.
Nothing.
Nothing except the mess Sarah and I had made last night. With the scent of sex thick in the air, I searched.
Nothing.
Starting to panic, I stormed back into the bedroom and yanked open the dresser drawers. Long shot, but what the hell did I have to lose.
As I slammed the last one shut, I noticed my camera bags weren’t near my duffle. This time I lost my cool and went on a frantic hunt. They were gone, just like the money, just like Sarah.
I wasn’t stupid.
I’d been duped.
Taken.
Had.
Screwed, and not just literally.
“Fuccckkkk,” I yelled.
Abigail appeared in the bedroom door. “What the hell is going on?”
I looked her right in the eye and said, “Someone stole the money.”
Someone. No, not someone. Sarah.
Abigail’s face turned bright red, and she narrowed her eyes at me. “I need that money.”
Yeah, well so did I.
My gaze skittered to the dog tags. The only thing I had to connect Sarah to being in this room. “And I’ll get it for you. I just need some time.”
And I would get it. I had a way to find her and she had no idea. This chick knocked on the wrong door. No, she screwed the wrong guy.
“Do I look stupid to you?” Abigail shouted.
Exhaustion taking over, I sat on the bed and placed my elbows on my thighs. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but my money and both of my cameras were stolen as well.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, and you want me to believe you’d let that happen on the verge of a career-making gig. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I’m calling the police.”
I peered up at her. “Great, go for it, and while you’re at it, tell them I need to talk to them, too. After I explain what happened, and that I told you I’d get you your money, you’re still going to have to wait for it.”
“Screw you, Sundance. If you wanted this gig solo, you didn’t have to go to such lengths. There’s no way I can work with someone like you. I quit,” she huffed.
Someone like me?
“Yeah, a dumbass like me,” I said to myself seconds later.
As she stormed away, she added, “And I want that five grand wired to me before the end of the week, or I will call the police.”
The door slammed to the suite, and I did what she wasn’t willing to do—called the police to report a robbery.
“Atlanta Police Department, hold please.”
As I held the line, I tried to figure out what I was going to tell them—that I got drunk and invited a blonde, which turned out to be a wig, to my room, where I fucked her senseless without knowing her last name, and then she stole my things all while I slept. Oh, and let’s not forget, she left someone’s dog tags behind. Husband? Lover? Friend? I didn’t have a fucking clue. With that, I disconnected my call.
The police would never believe me.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I’d use the dog tags to find this Sarah.
I’d make sure she paid for what she did.
And in the meantime, I’d turn the theft of the cameras into the insurance company, but calling the police was out of the question.
Even I had to question my character.