Page 3 of Lethal Bliss

A loud bang rips through the room, and the door springs free of its lock, swinging open with a violent force. A tall, dark man marches in, waving a gun as his eyes flash. “In the bathroom, you two!” he barks.

For a moment, I’m frozen in my seat, staring at him with my mouth agape.

Richard backs away from the door with his hands in the air. “I didn’t see anything,” he cries, “I promise you. I didn’t see anything—I didn’t hear anything!”

“There are three bad men out there on the sidewalk,” the man says. He’s talking calmly and gesturing at the doorway while he speaks. “They have guns, and they are coming here. If you two are still here by the time they come in, they’ll either kill you right here in this room or abduct you to a place where they can torture you for information.”

“What?” Now the look of horror on Richard’s face has given way to bewilderment.

“Into the bathroom,” the man commands again.

As if on cue, three men walk into the parking lot at that moment. They're visible from the doorway, walking fast with their hands by their sides, keeping something out of view. I’ve seen too many scenes like this in movies not to know what they’re hiding.

“Now, Miss Mount, move,” the man says again. He turns to Richard and points at the bathroom.

Richard scurries in there without another word.

I pocket the dental floss pack and head in after him.

The man follows us in and bolts the door behind him. In that cramped space, he seems like a giant, towering above the two of us. We flatten ourselves against the wall to make way as he hurries around us to the window and shatters the glass with a single blow. In the next few seconds, he works its frame out of the panel.

“Who are you?” Richard asks him.

“Go,” he tells Richard and gestures at the now open window.

Richard turns to me. “He knows you. Do you know him?”

I’m still too stunned to speak. There’s a dangerous glitter in the man’s eyes that makes it impossible to trust him. Looking into them feels like staring into a tiger’s eyes as it stalks you. You come away with chills running down your spine and a rubbery feeling around your knees.

Now he grabs Richard by the shirt and hauls him up the window. It’s like watching somebody lift up a small sack of clothes. In a moment, he stuffs the poor man through the narrow window, head first, out into the motel’s backyard.

I don’t wait for him to reach for me before I inch closer to the window. He supports me by the legs as I heave myself up and wriggle my body through the window. Soon, I’m halfway out of the room with my upper torso hanging above the ground and my legs still scrabbling for purchase on the windowsill.

Richard is supposed to hold me while I climb out, but he’s walking away now.

“Mr. Wells?” I call.

“I’m getting the hell out of here,” he replies and keeps walking fast.

“They’re getting away!” someone cries from the room.

“Go ‘round to the back!” another snarls.

It’s the bad men.

What do they want?

The man pushes me through the window. I try to hold on to the wall and not fall, but then my grip comes loose as he practically flings me out. I tumble to the ground on the other side with a squeal. Loud banging on the bathroom door drowns out the stream of invectives that follow my fall.

The loud report of a gunshot silences me.

I flinch and a gasp escapes my lips. My heart lurches violently as I struggle to my feet. Now my heartbeat has changed to a wild hammering.

Another shot follows in reply.

The man comes clambering out the window. He drops to the ground on his hands and rolls over to his feet in one fluid motion that leaves my jaw hanging. A man that big has no business being that agile.

“Where is he?” he asks.