50 Shades of Drake 3 and 4

Chapter Twelve

    "Wow...I can't believe Harry turned your secretary against you," Carlos muttered, seated in the passenger seat of Aubrey's sleek, black luxury vehicle.

    "The more he does, the more convinced I am that he really did kill his wife," Aubrey said while driving. "And there's no telling what else he has to hide.

    Carlos rolled his window down and stuck his hand out, wiggling his fingers in the warm breeze. "I guess I dodged the bullet in a big way by not getting involved with him. He's completely loco."

    "The thing is, I want to tell Destiny everything. I want to tell her that she was right to be suspicious around Bridgette. I want to tell her that you're okay. But I can't go to Brian's house. Palmer could be tracking me. I can't call her or Brian. Palmer could have found a way to monitor my calls. I have to wait until work on Monday, which kills me. I know she'd want to know that you're okay as soon as possible." Aubrey drummed his fingers on top of the steering wheel. "There's got to be a way I can get a message to her."

    "Hire a messenger, maybe?" Carlos suggested. "That's what they do in the movies."

    Aubrey laughed. "Actually, that's a very valid suggestion. But to hire a messenger, I'd have to use my computer or cell phone, or stop by the courier company's location. All of those actions could hypothetically be tracked. You may be onto something, though. Thank you."

    After parking his car in the hotel parking garage, Aubrey pushed open the driver side door and stepped out of the car. The sun was quickly setting, casting a pinkish, purple glow across the sky that was visible through the concrete slats of the garage. He squinted up at the sky with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. It was rare that he ever walked outside of his condo wearing sweatpants these days, but this matter was urgent. The thought hadn't even occurred to him to change clothes - also rare, as he held fashion in high regard.

    The hotel lobby was luxurious. A lot of gold - the light fixtures, the hotel luggage carts, even gold threading through the marble flooring. Because he knew Bridgette's room number, he bypassed the lobby desk and led Carlos straight to the elevators.

    "So what is the plan?" Carlos asked nervously. "You're just going to barge in there asking questions?"

    "Pretty much," Aubrey said with a shrug. "I have to get to the bottom of this. And if we can convince her to join our side, then we have access to Palmer. We can trick him into confessing. Have her wear a wire. Something."

    "We both watch too many crime shows," Carlos muttered as the elevator doors opened.

    Aubrey stepped off the elevator and glanced left first, then right. Bridgette's room was easy to spot, even from his position in front of the elevator, because her room was the only room with two guards posted outside of it.

    Carlos walked beside him, constantly looking over his shoulder.

    Aubrey arched a glance at him. "Are you okay?"

    "Just nervous. Knowing that she works with him...I feel like he could be lurking around somewhere."

    "If he is, my security is armed," Aubrey informed him. "We should be okay."

    "You see, it's that word should that I don't like," Carlos said, wincing.

    Aubrey laughed and shook his head. He approached the two security guards. "How is she?"

    The tall, brown-skinned man on the left had short black hair, a goatee, and mocha brown skin. He wore a simple black t-shirt, black jeans, and black Timberlands. "She's good. Hasn't met with anyone. Too scared to go out anywhere, though. She's been in the room all day."