Chapter Thirty-Seven: Reality Vs. Mathematical Probability

Dante was out like a light on the plane, snoring in a way that reminded one of a wild hog. Reid was too nervous to sleep. He listened to Mozart on headphones in an attempt to calm his nerves. By the time they were there, he could only think about finding some hotel to crash in so he could sleep in absolute silence. And find some hotel they did. A shady, run-down-looking place owned by a greasy old man who only took cash as payment. Reid insisted they get separate rooms and then promptly passed out for a couple of hours. Dante told him he'd hit the streets and see what he could pick up from the locals.

"I have some friends around here," he had said, winking knowingly.

Reid had gathered it'd be better for him just to stay at the hotel and let the man work his magic on his own. After all, he needed the rest.

And the kind of people who'd be friends with Dante didn't really seem like his crowd.

It was about 2 am when Reid started awake. The hall outside his room was full of chattering voices and footsteps. He lay in the dark, frozen.

"…fucking rundown piece of –"

"What did you think they'd give us, a five-star hotel?"

"Maybe stop talking before someone hears you." Reid nearly choked on his own inhale. It was Cat's voice. "It's the middle of the night," she continued, unaware she'd just given someone in the next room a minor heart attack, "I don't wanna deal with angry patrons."

"I think it'd be quite cathartic to get into a fight right about now," another female voice input, Reid guessed this was the arsonist, Wires.

"I like her," the first voice spoke again – a gruff, unpleasant male voice.

"Usually women you like end up dead," said the second voice, this one a man with lighter intonation.

"Will you shut up and give me the fucking key," Cat hissed.

There were some jangling noises and the creaking of a door. Fabric against wood and carpet and plastic tapping was followed by squeaky hinges, the turning of a latch, and then complete silence.

Reid leaped out of bed and scrambled to the door. He leaned his ear against it, holding his breath and listening desperately. He couldn't hear anything. Only the slight rustle of movement across the hall and the most imperceptible vibration of low voices. He let out a defeated sigh and sat down on the bed again. The mattress was decidedly too hard.

What were the chances they'd end up in the same hotel? Reid started doing the math in his head but stopped himself. All that mattered was they were. And he didn't know if anyone in her team knew his face or what government agents were lurking around the corner who would know him on sight – never mind Dante, who was notoriously wanted by the US government. Coming to Milan was so insanely stupid of him, why did he even care? He could've gone back to work like normal and forgotten about the whole mess in Russia. This was all his fault, throwing himself back into a ridiculous situation for her. And there she was, across the hall, within walking distance. He felt the urge to burst through the two thin panels of wood that separated them and just drag her somewhere safe with him. Screw Carlyle and whatever plan he had; he didn't care. There was only one reason Reid had come to Milan and it wasn't concern for the government and whatever bad decision-making had led them to hire actual criminals to do their dirty work. He just –

Tap tap.

His train of thought was interrupted by a light knocking on his door. He paused, then slowly picked his gun up from the bedside table. Softly, avoiding the creaky floorboards, he approached the door. There was no hole to look through. He waited again.

"Reid darling, open the door will ya?" Dante's altogether too loud and obviously drunk voice was heard.

He swung the door open and pulled him in.

"Be quiet! They're across the hall."

"Who's what now?" Dante slurred, stumbling against a chair in the dark. Reid pinched the bridge of his nose, making sure the door was locked and listening at it carefully. He prayed to God that no one heard Dante saying his name.

"The team. Be quiet. I heard them."

Dante stared blankly, comprehension dawning on his hazy mind.

"Well, that's good, because I didn't find out jack shit," he collapsed onto the bed.

"What're we gonna do I mean I can't –" Reid began, but was interrupted again by loud snoring.

Dante had fallen into a drunken stupor.

So much for sleep in silence.

Reid pulled a chair from near the window to the door and sat guard, gun in hand and ready to fire. With his head leaning against the door, he stayed awake for a few more hours before exhaustion finally overtook him and he slid away into an uncomfortable, feverish sleep.