Esteban took a deep breath and dove in after her, latching onto her arms and holding her down beneath the surface. Keats struggled, kicking her legs furiously against him.
I can't breathe…but I refuse to black out! Esteban will NOT get the better of me!!!
Keats brought her knee sharply into his groin. The water had made her movement slower than she would have liked, but it got the job done. Esteban released her and she flew to the surface. She gripped the edge if the pool, pulling herself onto the concrete and gasping for breath. In time, her breathing slowed and she wondered what plan of action to take.
Keats felt little drops of water land on her thigh and before she could make an educated decision, Esteban seized her wrist, yanking her to his chest.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He said with spite. He ripped her wig off and threw it on the ground. Keats cowered, but soon remembered that she was indeed a professional, just like Calleigh said.
"I suppose I did. And I would have gotten away with it too if it hadn't been for you blasted, meddling kids…" Keats said, harking back on the glory days of Scooby Doo. She blinked a few times, as she hadn't exactly prepared anything relevant to say. Esteban stared at her as though questioning her sanity.
"Whatever that means…listen, you nosy little bitch. I AM going to marry your sister and there's nothing you can do about it save for congratulating me on my upcoming nuptials."
"I won't let my sister marry a murderer, Esteban. You may think you have me cornered, but I refuse to let you win." She said, wincing as his nails dug deep into her arm.
"Murderer? Don't be a fool. If I were going to murder anyone, it would be you." Esteban said, hauling her off to the sauna and bathhouse.
She tried to wrestle away from him, but was chagrined to find that he was much too strong for her. He shoved her into a steam room, locking the door behind him as he left. He fiddled around with the temperature knobs until it had reached over 120 degrees Fahrenheit. He gave a self-satisfied smile and returned to the pool.
Keats began sweating immediately, cursing herself for being so stupid as to not run away when she'd had the chance. She surveyed her surroundings, taking into account the absence of windows and everything else but tile.
She wondered whether anyone would hear her if she screamed. She decided to give it a try anyway.
Ryan Wolfe had discovered an international passport that read Christos Veradis instead of Esteban Jarvis. He snapped a quick picture and returned it to its former spot. He also recovered the Alamo pen and took a few prints from it, photographing it from every angle. When satisfied that he had seen all he came to see, he made his way back down to the poolside.
He scoured the sea of faces for Keats and Esteban. Eventually he located Esteban, but Keats was definitely not with him. Esteban gave Ryan a friendly wave and shrugged his shoulders mockingly. He felt a jolt of terror and approached Esteban with extreme fury.
"Where the hell is she?" Ryan shouted, his hand tightening around his gun. Esteban, or Christos, merely grinned and fanned himself with his hand.
"Probably melting in this heat." He said with a strangled laugh. Ryan whipped his gun out, aiming straight for Esteban's chest.
"Get hotel security." He yelled to one of the employees. The men were captured in a heated silence. Ryan's gaze never faltered.
"I'm going to ask you again. Where is she?" Ryan said, his imagination running wild. He thought back on all the young female victims he'd come across in the last 48 hours. Would Keats be the next to join? Ryan shook his head, pushing the thoughts out of his mind.
"I'll give you a hint…" Esteban said in a soft, dangerous tone.
Keats wiped her brows, leaning back against the tile wall. She struggled to keep herself alert, but was somehow slowly succumbing to a thick veil of sleep. She had stopped trying to call for help long ago, and now she resigned herself to wait until someone noticed the locked room.
The air is so stuffy…I can't think…it's…so hot…the steam…can't…it hurts…
Keats slumped over, closing her eyes and feeling overwhelmingly drowsy.
A draft of cool air pierced through the dense fog and Keats felt herself being carried out of the steam room. She was laid on a sofa in the bathhouse entrance and made to drink from a bottle of cold water. She opened her eyes lazily.
She sputtered and the water spilled across her chin.
"Ah…my head feels like it's in a vice." Keats groaned painfully. Ryan held a damp towel to her face, encouraging her to drink the water.
"We've got Esteban in our custody. You were right about him, Keats…as usual. It's kind of uncanny the way you just know things. I wish I had your secret." He said. Keats yawned and closed her eyes again.
"Wake up, Keats. Stay with me, here." Ryan rolled her face back and forth between his hands.
"You're making me dizzy, Wolfe." Keats mumbled.
"You're calling me Wolfe again. Is that 'cause I rescued you?" He asked.
"Hell no. I would have been found anyway…" Keats said, her senses beginning to recharge. And among those, her sense of humor.
"That's not what you said that last time I saved you." Ryan cupped her cheek with his palm. Keats gave a small 'pfft' sound between her teeth.
"I was only a girl then. Now I'm a mature old lady." She replied with a slight slur in her voice. Ryan gave an unexpected laugh and ruffled her hair.
"But I was wrong about him. He's not the Ladykiller…" Keats said, her voice even and strong.