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He took a hold of my elbow again, tightly as a
vise. I tried to yank it
free, but I might as well have saved me the trouble; he didn't let go,
even tightening his grip a little more.
"Jesus, who are you; Hulk Hogan?" I groaned softly and he released his
grip a bit.
The strides he took had me almost jogging beside him, and I was a little
out of breath by the time we arrived in what was clearly his office. We
had to take a private elevator up to get there, and when the doors
opened; it revealed a room that seemed fitting for him: glass, steel
and lots of windows. On one side, Vegas life streamed by; on the other,
I could look down straight into the security room through tinted glass.
Wall-to-wall screens could be seen in that area, and a staircase lead
down from the office into the room, but I couldn't hear any sounds.
"Sit down," he snapped, grabbing the phone and dialed, waiting for
someone to pick up. "Send Carly up here, will you?"
He sat down and planted his elbows on his desk, fixing those icy blue
eyes on mine. I grew pretty uncomfortable after about a minute of this
and looked away.
"Why am I here? If you're gonna call the police, call them," I said,
softly.
"What was the plan; take him for all he had on him? Hmm? Go up to his
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