Abby checked her phone and saw Gage’s text just as the doorbell rang. Her room service order had taken longer than she expected, but with Gage’s success, at least her appetite had returned.

Sliding the chain off the lock, she pulled open the door and stepped back to allow the white-coated waiter to wheel in a linen-draped food trolley. He lifted off a tray loaded with silver domes, and the room filled with delicious aromas.

“Where would you like this, señorita?” He was in his thirties, with smooth dark skin, a neatly trimmed mustache, and sideburns.

“Over on the coffee table is fine.” The waiter set the tray down and started back the way he had come, but instead of leaving, he opened the door, and a second waiter, bigger, more solidly built, with stick-straight black hair, walked into the room.

Abby’s heart began to pound. “What are you doing? I don’t need anything else. Please leave.”

The two men rapidly closed the distance, and Abby bolted, dodging, trying to get past them to the door. She managed to dart past the first waiter, but the bigger man with the straight black hair grabbed her around the waist, jerked her back into the room, and slammed the door.

Abby tried to scream, but the mustached waiter shoved a white rag in her face. The first breath she took left her woozy. She managed to turn her head away and start fighting the waiter who held her, kicking and scratching, raking her short nails down the side of his face, drawing blood.

“Puta!” Doubling up his fist, he punched her in the jaw so hard her head spun and her knees buckled. Abby grabbed onto a side table and managed to pull herself up, but a long-fingered hand pressed the cloth over her mouth again.

Abby swayed, her muscles going limp as she was lifted off the floor and carried toward the food trolley, which was actually a laundry cart, and dumped inside.

Her head was still spinning. Vaguely, she heard the rattle of the lock turning, the door opening, then Gage’s foul curse.

The sound of breaking glass followed, and the solid thud of fists pounding into flesh. She shook her head to rouse herself, managed to shove up from the bottom of the cart in time to see Gage’s muscled shoulder barrel into the midsection of the mustached waiter, carrying him across the room and slamming him into a wall.

As the man staggered to his feet, Gage spun toward the bigger, straight-haired man and threw a hard punch that knocked him several feet back before the guy swung a blow that Gage managed to duck.

Still dizzy, Abby climbed out of the cart. A painted vase sat on the side table. Grabbing the vase, she crashed it over the mustached waiter’s head.