Slade led them through a narrow hall and up a flight of stairs. At the top, a door opened on a darkened room that appeared to be a storage closet. Another door waited on the opposite wall. Slade threw it back, and light flooded through to sear Gabriel’s gloom-accustomed eyes.
He stumbled after his captor into a hotel lobby furnished in extravagance. The small, round light fixtures recessed into the ceiling were almost invisible, and the cream-colored walls seemed to cast a glow of their own. Clusters of velvet couches, overstuffed chairs and low, burnished maple coffee tables lent the impression of an upscale coffee house or a sitting room in a mansion.
Opulence and wealth surrounded him. The deep carpet felt plush on his bare feet, the rich exotic scent of flowers and coconut oil permeated the air. But he noted only the windows and doors, trying to remember possible escape routes.
Slade slowed his pace.
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