Roland folded his fingers into fists, staring at the sliding door of his suite. The faint rustle outside had gone silent, but his instincts prickled. Someone was there.
They’d found him.
Heat crept along the back of his neck as the door panel trembled, the soft click of the latch broke the silence.
“Damn it,” Roland muttered. He swallowed hard and darted his gaze around the compact space.
A champagne bottle in the side cabinet caught his eye. He snatched it up, gripping the neck tightly as he pressed himself against the partition beside the door.
The latch clicked again. A narrow gap slid open.
Before Roland could react, a muffled scuffle erupted in the aisle, strained voices, a grunt, the dull thud of bodies against the wall.
He pulled the door aside and stepped out.
Three men in
