Home > The Perfect Getaway (The Perfect Stranger #5)(9)

The Perfect Getaway (The Perfect Stranger #5)(9)
Author: Charlotte Byrd

A few people look up and I know that I can't let this go on for any more time. It's Saturday night and the place is busy.

So far, Hank has done a good job at keeping him quiet. Unfortunately, I don't think he'll stay that way now that we are going to have a conversation.

I wave him over, trying to get him away from the bar and all of the patrons into a more private place, but he just shakes his head and continues to nurse his drink.

“I hear you’re refusing to leave,” I say in a hushed tone into his ear, hoping that no one hears us.

“So what?”

“This is my establishment and these are my employees. If one of them asks you to leave, then you leave.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I don't know why you're being so difficult, Tim. I know you are going through a hard time right now, but I wasn't the one who was caught stealing. If you need help, I'm willing to help, but so far you have asked me for nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” he roars. “I asked you for my job back, remember? Did you forget? Was the water so cold that it erased some of your memory?”

I clench my jaw and form my hand into a fist. Still, I force myself to stay calm.

I can't hurt him.

There are too many people around and if I swing at him, it's going to end badly.

My only goal now is to get him away from here.

“If you want to talk about this, let's talk about it somewhere else. I'm not going to do it here.”

I turn around and walk away.

This is incredibly difficult, but it’s the only way that I can lead him away.

I turn back to see if he's following me, but he's not.

Shit, I say to myself.

I wait for a few more minutes but he’s still at the bar.

Just as I'm about to give up hope, Tim walks over to me.

His body sways from side to side because he is unable to maintain a straight line.

Once, he even leans on a table for support.

Once we are in the hallway and away from the bar in the restaurant, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, this is good,” I say to myself. “This is progress.”

By the time he reaches me, I can see that he has no plans of leaving. His face is tense and his lips are pursed.

He looks angry.

Upset.

Disappointed. All at the same time.

“I heard that you were going through a divorce,” I start to say, but he raises his hand and punches me right in the mouth.

I get dizzy and nearly fall over, but I catch myself on the wall. When I pull my hand away from my mouth, my palm is covered in a dark brown liquid, my blood.

I make a fist to swing at him as well, but I stop myself in midair just as Hank rushes up to us. He overpowers him and throws him down on the floor. I taste lead and iron between my teeth and try to get my head to stop spinning.

“I'm so sorry, boss. Are you okay?” Hank asks over his shoulder, while holding Tim down with his face pressed to the tile.

“I'm fine,” I say over and over again. “Just get him out of here.”

“I've already called the police.”

My blood runs cold.

“You did?”

“Of course. He attacked you.”

“Yes, you're right,” I stutter. “Of course that's the right thing to do.”

Tim stops fighting when he hears that and allows Hank to escort him to his office. I promise to stop by once I get myself cleaned up.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize that I'm quite a sight.

Lip split open, blood gushing everywhere. I reach for a paper towel, wet it under the faucet, and bring it to my face. Then I stop.

No, I can't do that. This is the perfect cover.

The messier I look, the harder I will be to recognize.

I step into Hank's office and take a seat across from Tim.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just buries his face in his hands.

A few minutes later, a police officer arrives. He pulls me aside, asks me what happened, gets a statement from Hank, and then one from Tim.

“Would you like to press charges?”

“No,” I say.

Tim looks up at me surprised.

The cop doesn't seem bothered by it one way or another. It's just something in the day of the life of his job.

He asked Tim to follow him and he does. Tim looks back at me, but only once.

 

 

Neither Hank nor Eileen are surprised that I don't press charges. They have worked with Tim for many years and have a lot of positive things to say about him.

On other occasions, they told me about all of the good times they had working at this place. They also told me that there was a time when Tim was highly motivated and a great general manager.

Mr. Elliott would not have kept him on this long if he weren’t. Before driving back to the boat, I stop by the bathroom again and wipe my face as well as I can. My lip has already gone puffy along with part of my chin and I won't be able to hide this from Isabelle. Not that I want to.

Luckily, the cop was tired and not particularly interested in anything to do with me or the hotel other than taking my statement. I hope that for now that's enough.

I hope that Tim leaving in a police car is enough to teach him a lesson and to leave me alone. I have given him so many chances.

I hope he doesn't waste them. I also hope that he stays away not only for his sake but also for my own.

When I get back on the boat, I realize that I've been gone for hours. I hope that Isabelle is asleep, but when I see her sitting in the cabin curled up in a blanket with that angry look on her face, I know that this is going to be a long night.

 

 

6

 

 

Isabelle

 

 

I wait for him for a long time. I try to sleep, but I can't. I didn't want him to go back to the hotel tonight, but I know that it's his job and that I don't really have much say in it.

I try to occupy myself by pacing around the cabin and eating almost everything that's in the refrigerator, but none of that calms my nerves.

I don't know why I suddenly feel so on edge. I wanted him to stay because having another interaction with him is probably not the best thing in the world, but what can you do?

When Tyler finally gets back, I see his lip is swollen and I know immediately that it didn't go well.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my anger at bay.

“I'm fine. You didn't have to wait up.”

“I know, I wanted to. I was worried.”

He shrugs and heads straight to the bedroom.

“What happened?”

He brushes his teeth and examines his face.

“He didn't want to leave,” he says.

“And?”

He shrugs.

“You got into a fight?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” he says.

I nod, trying to understand, but I can't without actually talking about it

“You need to tell me something, Tyler.”

“Isabelle, this has been a long day and I need to get some rest.” The tone of his voice is short and abrupt. He's dismissive and I don't like it.

I open my mouth to say something else, but then I close it. I know that he needs space and maybe what I need right now should go on the back burner.

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