The muffled pistol shot echoed in Lily’s ears, then seemed to vanish into the ocean’s roar. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum. She stumbled, seeing Dmitri move in a blur.
The man in the Hawaiian shirt was a crumpled heap on the boardwalk, a dark stain spreading on the wood. Dmitri didn’t spare him a second glance. He was already by Lily’s side, grabbing her arm, his grip firm and hot, pulling her.
“Move,” he growled, his voice rough, urgent. He pulled her, almost dragging her, away from the moonlit beach, back towards the distant, bright lights of the lobby. His eyes were sharp, darting, scanning every face.
He steered her quickly towards a quieter service elevator, away from the main guest traffic, pressing the button impatiently.
Inside the elevator, Lily finally
