(TYLER)
I can tell right away when we get to the hotel that there's something wrong. I mean, it wouldn't take a genius. Sasha shepherds me into the tiny, deserted reception area with his arm tight around me, eyes darting everywhere.
"What is it?" I pant as he pulls me up the stairs to our room, double-time. We get inside, and he locks the door, then hustles me into the bathroom. When I look out the door to see what the fuck he's doing, he's leaning up against the wall next to the window, peeking down at the street through the curtain. He switches sides to look up the other side of the street, and then I see him looking carefully at the buildings opposite us.
"What the hell is going on?" I ask.
He holds up a hand without even looking at me, a please be quiet hand—there fucking better be a "please" in there, anyway—and I sigh loudly until he's finished being paranoid and leaves the curtain.
Only he hasn't finished being paranoid, not yet.
