Love, Lattes and Danger. Sandra Cox

man scrawls his room number, 503, on the ticket. “Just keep a tab going,” he directs.

      Another man slides onto the seat on my other side. He has the same prosperous look as the man on my left. “What’ll it be, Mr. Moss, the usual?” the bartender asks.

      “Yeah, thanks, Tim.”

      The bartender brings a short glass with a gold beverage in it—looks like Scotch—and a ticket. Mr. Moss signs room number 537.

      I make a writing motion and Tim brings me a pen and my bill. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a holder on it. I slide off the seat and manage to catch someone else signing. Room 317. Probably not one of the fat cats. I remember what Leif says about the serious money located on the fifth floor. Looks like he’s right.

      I head for the desk and ask to borrow a pen. This time I get one with a holder on it. “Thanks.”

      In the elevator, I head for five, tearing down the pen as the mechanical platform makes its smooth assent.

      The pen in the trash, holder in my hand, I meander toward room 503. The door to 505 opens. I bend down as if to tie my shoe, straighten, and walk on. When the couple disappears, I go back to 503 and fiddle with the lock. It turns and I ease into the room.

      Moving quickly through the living room, I go into the bedroom. There’s a built-in safe near the floor. I’ve got a good ear, but I’ve never tried to open a safe before. I squat down and try several combinations with no success. My heart rate picks up and I wipe my clammy hands on my pants and press my ear to the door. I still can’t hear the lock.

      I trot into the bathroom, grab the glass sitting there, and press it to the safe, my ear to the glass. Click. I twirl past it twice, stop, then turn it counterclockwise again. The door opens.

      My heart racing like a jackhammer, I blow in and out then look inside. If it’s empty, I don’t know what I’ll do.

      A stack of bills is neatly arrayed in the safe. My body sags in relief. I didn’t know people really kept this kind of money lying around. I take ten hundred dollar bills off the top, shut the safe, and head for the door.

      I have to remind myself these are the men who have Ames and I in human bondage. Bought like slaves on the block. Still I don’t like what I’m doing. My shirt is coated with sweat and sticking to my skin. But I’d do much worse if it meant getting my child out of Stranger’s clutches.

      Strolling down the hall, my heart thudding, I bump into Mr. Moss in front of 537. I reach out my hand to steady him. Sliding my free hand into his coat pocket, I remove his wallet. “I’m sorry.”

      He straightens his jacket. “Just watch where you are going.”

      “I will, sir. Again my apologies.” As soon as I’m in the elevator, I rifle through his wallet then shove it in my pocket as an older woman gets on. She smiles at me then leans forward, concern on her features. “Young man, are you all right? You look a trifle flushed.”

      I cough into my hand. “My sister’s got the flu and I’m not feeling that great myself.” She takes a step back. I nod and get off at the next floor. In a discreet corner with an oversized potted plant and desk, I pull out the billfold, hurriedly jot down the numbers from his credit card, and remove a couple of small bills. I get back on the elevator and head for the first floor and the reception desk where I hand the billfold over to the clerk. “I found this on the floor out in the lobby. Someone must have dropped it.”

      He shakes his head, opens it, and pales. “Oh my God. This is Mr. Moss’s. Let me take your name. I’m sure he’ll want to reward you for finding it.”

      “That’s not necessary. Just tell him to check it, to make sure everything’s there.”

      The clerk examines it cautiously. “Looks like his credit cards and money are there, but I’ll be sure and mention it to him. Thanks again.”

      “Sure thing.”

      This time I don’t bother with the elevator but lope up the stairs, open the door and lean against it, hoping to regain my equilibrium.

      “Joel, where have you been?”

      I jump. “My nerves are shot.” I wipe my fingers across my forehead and notice they’re trembling. “I got us a small bankroll. We need to get those jammers and get out of here.”

      “Now?”

      “Yeah, now.”

      “What’s going to be open? It’s one in the morning.”

      “Let’s do a search.”

      “Nothing is going to be open.” She moves her chin with each word for emphasis.

      I cave. “You’re right. But first thing in the morning, we have to go.”

      “Joel, what exactly did you do?” She looks at me, uneasy.

      “Don’t worry. The guys I got an advance from can afford it.”

      Her breath catches and she puts her hand over her mouth. “You didn’t go to a loan shark did you?”

      I laugh. The muscles in my neck loosen. “Sharks, yes. Loan sharks, no. Any pizza left?”

      “Yeah, I saved you half.”

      I walk into the kitchen, pull it out of the box, and eat it cold. I’m exhausted and my arm is killing me. My bed seems a long way away. “I’m going to bed. First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll go get those jammers.”

      “Okay. ’Night, bro.”

      “’Night, Ames.” I force my stiff legs to move, one foot in front of the other. I fall into bed and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

      When I finally wake, the room is in shadows. Is it dawn? I check the clock then jump out of bed. Six PM!

      I hit the head then move into the great room. “Ames.”

      There’s no answer. “Amy.” Even though there’s no reason to be, I’m uneasy. In the kitchen, there’s a note on the counter.

      There’s a leak on five. Leif is sending me out to check it. He says for you to get some rest.

      I fix some coffee and sit down at the computer to do a search. There’s an electronics store a block away but the hours aren’t given. I jot down the address, run a comb through my hair, and head out the door.