Page 39 of Victor's Lethal Desire
"The third floor. The stairs. I thought you said you've seen the security system."
"I have," I say, turning back toward the second-floor door. "And you're not going that way. Follow me."
I open the door and glance back. She's still standing in the middle of the stairwell, halfway up.
"You coming?" I ask, smiling.
She huffs, then starts walking back down.
"This is ridiculous," Danika says as I lead her back through the service hallway toward the kitchen.
"Relax."
"I had a plan, Victor. A good plan."
"Your plan was to walk into a guarded stairwell with a ceramic blade and hope for the best."
"It would have worked."
"Maybe," I say, pushing through the swinging kitchen doors. The smell of roasted meat and garlic hits me immediately. "But it also might have gotten you shot."
We weave through the chaos, chefs shouting, pans clattering, steam billowing from industrial stoves. No one looks at us. No one cares.
I lead her to the back corner, where the dishwashing station sits half-hidden behind a rack of dirty plates. And there, tucked against the wall, is the dumbwaiter.
"There," I say, pointing.
Danika stares at it. "Uhh, what the hell is that?"
"It's how you're going to get up to the penthouse floor."
"What!?" she says, her voice sharp. "Are you crazy?"
"Don't worry. I gave the dishwasher money earlier this morning when I did my final walkthrough. He's the only one who comes back here. They aren't using it tonight."
"Well, I don't care about any of that. I am not crawling in that thing."
"Why? You don't think you'll fit?"
"No, it has nothing to do with that. I don't need to. I can just go up the stairs like I had planned before you interrupted me."
"You could," I say, leaning over and opening the dumbwaiter door. The metal creaks. "But you don't have a gun, and I do. And so do those men back there." I pat the inside of the small compartment. "You get in here. I'll send it up. I'll then go deal with the men, knowing you're safe in here, and make my way to the penthouse floor. Wait until I open it, and I'll help you out."
"Absolutely not."
"Danika. This has to be the way. Get in there, and I will get you. I swear."
She rolls her eyes. "That doesn't mean shit to me."
"Maybe," I say. "But I can't do this alone. I need you. So," I pat the inside of the dumbwaiter again. "In you go."
She hesitates. Her jaw tightens, her hands balling into fists at her sides.
Then, reluctantly, she steps forward.
I help her in, steadying her elbow as she crouches low and tucks her legs into the small space. The red dress bunches around her thighs.
"Hands off my ass," she snaps as my palm brushes the curve of her hip.
