Read Club Alpha for Free Online

the safe in my room. 
    I walk to the elevator and press the down button. I snatch my smartphone out of my other pocket then scroll through the updates. It flashes, saying it’s syncing to the international cell cooperative.
    Great.
    The elevator doors swish open, and I move inside. I hit the button for the lobby. The elevator shifts gently then moves downward. Leaning against the back of the elevator, I close my eyes, listening to the dings as I descend. The elevator rocks slightly as it slows. A final ding announces a stop.
    My eyes pop open. Floor thirteen.
    I frown. It's bad luck to have a thirteenth floor.
    Nobody steps inside.
    Weird.
    I wait a few seconds then shrug, hitting the button again. The doors remain open like a wide, unblinking eye. I hit the Lukk døren button in red. Close door .
    Nothing happens.
    My brows cinch. I shove my cell into my pocket. A flutter of anxiety swoops inside me like a freed butterfly. Don't panic, Greta.
    My heart rate begins to speed.
    I panic and hit the button about a hundred and one times. Nothing. 
    My heart begins to hammer harder. The hell with this. I peek my head outside the open elevator doors. A normal hallway greets me. It could be a corridor in any hotel. Plush carpet in deep plum rolls out to several doors with numbers hanging on each.
    I whip out my cell.
    No service.
    Because I'm in a damn elevator. Shit. I slide my phone back into my pocket and exit the elevator.
    The doors close in a whisper behind me.
    I whirl, slapping my hands against my chest then quickly checking that my phone is inside my pocket. The outline of it's there. My hand drops. I cautiously look around. I should hear a maid, people—something. It's so quiet, I hear only the thundering of my heart and the whoosh of blood.
    My palms slick.
    I need to get the hell out of here. My eyes flick in the direction of the keypad full of buttons by the closed elevator.
    There isn't one.
     
    *
     
    Of course it hurts like hell when my hand hits the smooth brushed stainless of the elevator doors.
    Like all inanimate objects, they're not hurt or moved by my bludgeoning. The steel is uncaring of my bruised palm. I back away, looking left, then right. I move to each door.
    They all have the same number.
    1
    I hiccup back a sob and cover my mouth with one hand as I jerk the handle on the first door. Locked.
    I feel as though I've been dumped in a funhouse. I try every door, and each one is locked.
    I stand in the middle of the hallway in a strange hotel with an elevator without buttons and fight tears of rage, panic and fear.
    Then it hits me: The fantasy.
    This has got to be a Club Alpha thing.
    I frown, my pulse beginning to slow as I puzzle it through.
    But to what end?
    I walk the length of the dim corridor. At the opposite end, in small, brightly lit letters, a sign proclaims in Norwegian: Emergency stairs.
    Duh. A shaky laugh escapes me as I think how completely stupid I've been. I allowed myself to get wound up immediately instead of just being logical and going through the steps one at a time.
    I tear open the door with such force, it slams into the wall, notching deeply and sticking in the drywall like a skewer.
    “Pfft!” I mutter, leaving the thing.
    I descend the stairway, confidence and relief flooding through me with each downward tread.
    A dozen steps from me, three men are loitering on the landing. They're smoking clove cigarettes; the scent wafts to me, smelling of spice and death.
    I swallow hard.
    My perfect calm becomes a storm of doubt.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Paco
     
    I wince as I seat myself in the generous chair of my jet. It's always on standby and has a crew of five.
    I feel as though I've just survived a severe beating.
    Tallinn, seated across from me, grins at my discomfort. Leaning forward, quick as a snake, and executes a pincer grip on my quad. My thigh shrieks for mercy underneath his knowing touch.
    I chop his wrist with the side of my stiff fingers, and he bellows,
    “Damn, man!”
    He