Page 22 of Hunted

A vehicle pulled in, grabbing his attention. The black van moved slowly through the parking lot like a shark on the hunt.

He ducked into the shadows, pressing his back to wall and moving sideways until he could see the van again. There had been two vans at Lexi’s log mansion. He’d blown one to hell, but not the other. This was not some weary traveler looking for a good parking spot. It was White, or more of his henchmen.

How the hell had they followed him here? Had they seen his car? Did they know what to look for?

Didn’t matter. He’d left two alive back there, two who could describe him and Lexi. He should’ve killed them both.

The van came to a stop out front, and someone got out and headed toward the motel office, probably to ask the clerk if anyone matching his or Lexi’s description had been here.

He quickly ducked back into their room, closed the door, and went to the bed where Lexi lay sleeping, her face illuminated only by the flickering orange glow of the damaged neon vacancy sign outside. He leaned over her, touched her shoulder and whispered. “Wake up.”

Her eyes opened, slow and sleepy. She stared up at him, and whispered, “But I don’t even know your real name.”

He swallowed hard, told himself not to dwell on the possible interpretations of that response. “We have to leave. They’re here.”

Her eyes rounded, and she lunged out of the bed almost knocking him over in the process. She quickly pulled on her jeans, stuffed her feet into her sneakers. “Where are they?”

“They’re in the motel office now. If we get out fast, they won’t hear us leave.”

“How did they find us?” She ran around the room, gathering up their things, cramming them into her purse, his duffle, whatever was close. He saw the safe deposit box key tumble from her bag to the floor, then watched her snatch it up quick and shove it into her back pocket.

“Damned if I know.” He scanned the room to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind. As he checked the bathroom, he tried to figure it out, talking it through as he did. “I spotted the safe-deposit box receipt in your father’s room. Left it there like a damned rookie.”

He’d snatched up a few things, her watch and their motel-provided toothbrushes, his razor. “Once they knew where we were going and that we were in a hurry, all they had to do was take the most direct route, and start checking motels along the highway. Amateur hour. My mistake. I know better.”

Her brown eyes probed his, narrowing, searching. It was as if she knew his words had some double meaning, as if she was trying, even now, to see the source of his consuming pain. The way she looked at him made him shiver, and he was damned if he knew why. He shoved everything he’d found into the duffel, slung it over his shoulder and took her arm. He held his gun at the ready in his right hand and opened the door.

Lexi planted her feet when they got to the door. “I can’t do this. I can’t go out there.” She whispered the words, but Romano pulled her through the door and outside, then quickly around the building to where he’d parked the car. She moved on legs as stiff as boards, which she figured was just as well. If her knees bent at all, they’d probably dissolve.

She tried to look around, tried to search the area for men with guns. It seemed at first that they were everywhere, but it was only that the parking lot was alive as headlights passed on the highway, making the shadows come to life. There could be twenty men in black lurking out here, and they’d be invisible.

From somewhere on the highway, music came faintly, then louder, then faded again. Motors purred and sputtered and roared. She could hear the tinny voices and canned laughter of a TV sitcom coming from one of the rooms nearby, and there was a throaty gurgle of rushing water from beneath the grate just under her feet. Nothing else. But that didn’t mean they were alone.

Romano leaned close to her. “Give me that safe deposit key. But don’t make it obvious.”

She stared at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes. His were wide, alert, moving back and forth as he scanned the parking lot.

Almost afraid to move, Lexi reached toward the back pocket of her jeans.

He turned to her all of the sudden, one arm snapping around her waist. Then he pulled her close, and his mouth covered hers. He pressed her back to the wall, nudging her mouth open, kissing her in a way she’d never been kissed before. His hand slid down over her back, and her eyes fell closed even as she realized that his remained open. And he still held a gun in his other hand.

Her legs dissolved, and she put her arms around his neck. She’d sink to the ground if she didn’t. His mouth on hers was hungry as it invaded and devoured. When his hand clasped her buttocks, squeezed her there, held her hips to his, she felt her insides turn molten. She tilted her head, kissing him back as her mind spun into madness. Conscious thought fled. Feeling took over. Sensation. The blood in her veins grew lava-hot, and every nerve ending quivered. She slid her fingers into his long dark hair, even moved her hips against him. He was eliciting responses from her very soul as he kissed her. The way his hand moved, kneaded, slid …

Into her back pocket, and then out again, with the key.

He straightened away from her, the key now in his fist, his eyes just as alert and sharp as before. His breathing was normal. Hers was ragged. She pressed herself to the wall behind her to keep from falling. Her heart hammered.

He turned, scanning the lot again, unmoved by the chaos he’d just brought crashing down on her.

“Now be casual. Open the passenger door and get in.”

She swallowed hard, lifting her chin. He was either a cold-hearted bastard or he was completely oblivious to the storm he’d just set loose inside her. She hoped for the latter, and walked along the passenger side of the car, toward the door. He kept pace on the driver’s side.

She reached the door, put her hand on it.

“Not leaving so soon, are you, Romano? The party is only beginning.”

The accent was British, and the shrill voice sent cold chills up Lexi’s spine. She froze, moving only her eyes to find the source of that fingernails-on-chalkboard tone.

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