Desiree gasped and stumbled back in shock at what lay before her eyes.

Questions attacked her as she struggled to maintain her balance.

Who did it? Why?

"Jam...oh god..." she stammered, turning around to block her friend's bloody state from view.

What should I do?

That was the most important question she had to face at the moment.

She couldn't bring herself to look back at her friend so she urged her feet to take her back to the closet. Tears streamed down her face as she cried looking for her phone with shaking hands.

What if they think I did it?

Desiree paused for a second to think, her eyes closed. No logical thought came to mind. Jamaica's bloody body was the only thing her mind could process at that moment.

Whimpering in panic and fear, Desiree gave up on her phone and opened her friend's suitcase and took out a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans. She hastily removed her dress from last night and put what she grabbed from the suitcase.

She grabbed whatever she thought she'd need later and looked for something to put them into when she saw the black bag from earlier. She pulled it toward her and opened it.

"Oh my god, Jam...what have you been up to?" she asked out loud when she saw what was inside the bag. It was full of cash. Thousands of it neatly stacked inside. It could worth millions!

You have to run now, a voice inside her said. Run as far as you can.

Without another thought, Desiree closed the bag, stood up and walked to the door. She grabbed Jamaica's sweater from the table on her way out.

Run. Go far away. They'll think you did it.

Her feet briskly took her to the elevator doors and she impatiently punched all the buttons going down. Her heart was racing as she waited for one pair of doors to open. When the ding came, she jumped in alarm.

She wiped away the tears and composed herself the moment she was inside. She covered her head and most of her face with the scarf. "Oh my god, oh my god. What the fuck happened?" she asked under her breath as new tears fell from her eyes. "Shit, Jamaica, what have you gotten yourself into?"

As the elevator descended further down, Desiree found some time to come to her senses.

What am I doing?

She couldn't just leave her best friend like that.

She had nothing to fear. She didn't do anything. She didn't have to run and make things complicated.

Desiree squared her shoulders, her mind made up. She'd call the police. She couldn't just leave Jamaica.

She was innocent and it would remain that way if she would just stop being stupid and stay to face this shit.

She roughly wiped away the tears off her face with her palms to get a grip on everything that happened. How could a perfectly normal afternoon lead to this? Who would have thought that after having sex with a stranger she met at the bar would land her in this mess?

The elevator stopped at another floor and Desiree stepped back to one corner. It was human instinct.

She tried to hide from the stranger who came inside by tugging on the scarf.

"Where are you going?" the voice demanded. Desiree kept her head down and did not move. "Jamaica, where the hell are you going? This is not part of the plan."

Startled, Desiree looked up only to regret it too late.

The man's thick eyebrows knitted in a frown. "You," he said, recognition in his eyes. He looked her up and down. "You're not Jamaica."

*****

Theo looked down at the woman, his eyes full of questions.

He was kissing her four hours ago and woke up with her gone. And now, after a call from Richard, she was here in the elevator, wearing the scarf his brother had given Jamaica a week ago.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

Her eyes were full of fear. Her face almost covered by the scarf. The elevator dinged and he punched the button to close the doors again.

"No! I have to go!" she said, her voice full of panic.

"I can't let you go," he said, grabbing her by the arm.

"I have to go somewhere. Let me go." She pulled at her hand but he held on, his grip tightening.

"Where is Jamaica?"

Her eyes went back to his. "How do you know Jamaica?" she asked.

"Answer my question."

"I don't know you."

Theo's brows lifted. "Oh, you don't? We just had sex a few hours ago in case you forgot," he said through clenched teeth. "Now, tell me why you are wearing Jamaica's scarf and where the hell is she?"

He saw her gulp but her gaze did not waver as she stared back at him. She was not trying to hide the fear and panic in her eyes nor the shaking in her voice as she said, "I am not telling you anything. Let me go."

His phone rang and he answered it without a word as he continued to look at her. The elevator was about to reach their destination.

"Theo, it's Jamaica," Richard's pained voice said from the other end. He knew from that moment on that something was wrong.

The woman tried to escape his grasp once more but he pushed her against the elevator wall and pinned her against it with his length. She grunted and fought harder but he held still as he listened to his brother.

"She's gone. She's fucking dead!" Richard's voice was full of rage.

"Where's the money, Richard?" he asked as he stared down at the woman.

"I don't know. There's a lot of mess."

"Find the fucking bag," he ordered.

"Jamaica's dead and you—"

"Your fucking buddy is dead and someone did it. Find the money."

"I can't find it. It's not here."

The elevator doors started to open and Theo was left to make a decision in just a matter of seconds. He chose to let the woman go and punch the button to close the doors again, grab her hand and pulled her back as she tried to run away. "Stay inside," he ordered, throwing her against one corner. His eyes landed on the bag in her hand.

"Who are you talking to?" Richard asked.

"I'll call you back," he said before ending the call. He returned his phone in his pocket and stared at the woman before him. She was pressed against the elevator wall, her knees almost giving up on her. But her eyes were full of anger as she stared at him. Her jaws were tight, her nose flaring.

"Let me out of this elevator. Someone's already waiting for me outside and he'll wonder why I'm late."

Theo slowly shook his head. "You're lying. Open that bag."

Her hand tightened on the bag. "No."

"Open the damn bag!" he roared.

She threw it toward him. He caught it. "Open it yourself."

He had a few more seconds before the doors would open again. He opened the bag and saw what he was looking for.

"Jamaica gave that to me."

"Stop lying. It won't do you any good. And Jamaica's dead."

There was no surprise from her.

"Of course, you know. You killed her, didn't you?"

Her eyes widened. "No! I didn't! She was dead when I got back!"

"But you're about to run away with a bag of cash that isn't yours." He righted his clothes and went to full height, towering over her. "Too bad you bumped into me, sweetheart."

"What do you mean? I don't know anything about the money. I just grabbed anything I found. Who the hell are you? Why do you know Jamaica?"

When the elevator finally dinged and opened, Theo did not make a move to close it.

"I bet you have a lot of questions, but don't expect them to be answered. If you would please walk out, I promise that you'll not be harmed."

"I'm not going with you," she said strongly. "What I need to do is call the police."

Theo stared at her for a while, standing in the middle of the doorway to keep the doors open. "You can't go anywhere near the police at this rate." When she did not move, he raised his voice. "Don't make me drag you out of there, woman. Get out and I promise you'll not be harmed."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I'll have to take you to the people who would know what to do with you," he answered.

*****

Desiree considered running off but the man's grip was strong. She thought she could wait for a perfect timing. But what if it didn't come?

Who was this guy? Why did he know Jamaica?

A big part of her hoped he was working with the good guys.

But what if he didn't?

One thing was for sure: he knew about the money, he knew about Jamaica's death and he was taking her somewhere that could be bad for her.

"Just let me go. I don't need to tell the police anything if you are concerned about that."

He kept quiet as he pulled her into a maze of hallways.

"If you are working for some gang or anything, I promise I won't say anything. No one has to know."

He did not answer.

"You know there are cameras in this hotel, right? People will soon find out what happened here. They'll know you took me against my will and—"

The man stopped and turned to her, his eyes serious. Far from the ones she saw last night, far from the ones that stared down at her as they rocked on his bed hours earlier. Standing before her was a different stranger. For a quick second, Desiree wondered whether everything had been planned, if she had been used as a pawn in this unknown game only her friend knew about.

He closed the distance between them with slow, purposeful steps as he spoke. "One, the police will question you until you give in and tell them everything. Two, we are not a gang—we are far bigger than that. Three, the cameras have long been taken care of." His voice was flat and threateningly cold. "What I suggest you do is keep your precious mouth close. It might just save your life."

"You promised no harm will come to me if I walk out of that elevator," she said in desperation as he he tightened his grip and turned away from her.

His hand tightened even more around her arm and she winced in pain. "If harm will come to you, it will be because of that mouth. Let's go."

*****

Theo pushed the lady inside the dimly lit room and flicked on the lights.

"Sit right there and don't move," he ordered, fishing for his phone.

He watched her slowly walk to the chair in one corner of the room. He saw tears roll down her face but she quickly brushed them off with her hand as she settled on the chair, her back straight and her shoulders squared. Her eyes glared at him but she kept her lips closed.

Theo waited for the call to connect. When the line was answered, he said, "Jamaica's dead. The money's with me, but I have two problems at the moment."

*****

Marco was called to the hotel and he arrived in just under thirty minutes considering he lived outside the city.

"I've been briefed about the murder on my way here," he said to his partner. "Tell me why we are having this case again, Gian."

Gian looked like he had been here for hours. "There's something I have to tell you."

"I need to see the scene first."

His partner shook his head. "You have to come with me first."

"What the hell is this all about?" Marco asked as Gian led him inside the hotel lobby, through a crowd of police officers and guests who had gone downstairs for questioning. His partner went straight to an office door near the front desk.

"We have a witness," Gian said, opening the door. Inside, Marco saw a lady with disheveled hair. Her head snapped upward at Gian's voice and her eyes started to panic. "Marco, this is my sister, Khaye."

9