Chayton Read Online Free PDF Page B

wave of relief hit Kate, knowing Chayton hadn't killed them after all. It made a difference.
    Removing the name tag from the front of the uniform, she tucked it into an apron pocket and opened the lobby doors. At a steady pace—not too fast, not too slow—she walked away from the building, from the alley, on alert for unusual movement or the sound of approaching footsteps. Taking the first street to the right, she put more distance between herself and the confrontation. On the lookout for a smaller, more personable hotel, she found one two blocks away and paused outside the doors to filch from her shoe the one and only credit card she'd managed to snag before leaving her suite. She had no cash left, and now had no clothes. Everything was back in her ransacked room. A room she couldn't go back to because more henchmen would be watching and waiting.
    Entering the lobby, finding it clean and neat if not of the affluent nature of the Continental, Kate went straight to the front desk. Leaning her arms on the chest high counter, she sought the night clerk.
    “May I help you?” The night clerk, tall and thin with a nose like a beak and puffy lips, stepped up to the desk and peered at her through the thick panes of his eyeglasses. He spoke broken but understandable English, his accent distinctly European.
    “Yes. I need a room for the night. And tomorrow night,” she added, considering this night was all but over.
    “Certainly. Fill this out, please.” The clerk handed her a short information form and began pecking on his computer.
    Using her own name, Kate filled in all the details and pushed the completed form across the counter along with her credit card.
    A few minutes later, the clerk frowned. His fingers flew over the keys, tapping away.
    “Is there a problem?” Kate asked, watching his face.
    “Yes. Do you have another card, perhaps? This one has been declined. I've tried several times.” The clerk set her card on the counter and used one finger to slide it her direction.
    Kate picked the card up and glanced at the front. It was the right card, the one she used the most. The expiration date was still three years out, so that wasn't the problem.
    “Are you positive? This card worked just last night.” Kate glanced at the clerk.
    “I'm sure, Miss.”
    “But this is the only card I have with me.”
    The clerk frowned, pushing at his glasses with his index finger. “I'm sorry. Do you have cash?”
    “No, I don't.”
    “Then I'm sorry. We need a valid credit card to process.”
    “Thanks for your time.” Kate exited the hotel and stood on the sidewalk, wary of what—or who—lurked on the streets. Sunrise wasn't far off, but for now shadows still cloaked the city. Anton's men could be anywhere.
    What was she supposed to do without a credit card, cash, or access to her belongings? Pacing away from the hotel, too nervous to remain still in public, she considered her options: call one of her assistants back home for a wire transfer, appeal to one of her friends for a small loan, or beg for cash on the streets of Singapore until she had enough money to take a flight back to the states.
    Each different option had problems. Anton had somehow managed to shut down the credit card and was probably monitoring all calls coming and going from the assistants in the office. Maybe even the phones of her best friends. If she contacted anyone from home, Anton would know. He was attempting to force her hand, taking away all options until she had to submit or be homeless on the streets.
    That bastard.
    She didn't even have enough money on her person for coffee. What had the world come to when a person couldn't even buy coffee? Anton's men, during their ransacking of her suite, had likely found the cash she'd left behind and taken it, along with her cell phone and other credit cards. She'd been in such a frantic rush to leave the suite—unsure if the men were still inside or not—that she'd left everything else behind.
    Rubbing