Page 39 of Fear of Flames
“Who are they?”
Fletch leaned back, extending his arms and intensifying his grip of the steering wheel. “There are lots of theys. We need to find out which they this is.” She didn’t reply. “We have about twenty minutes until we arrive at the motel. I’ll check us in.” He looked in her direction. “Put the stocking cap back on.”
“Aren’t most people checking out at this time of day?”
“The reservation called for a morning check-in. It was also for only one person. I’ll be a gentleman and take the couch.”
Michelle scoffed. “It’s probably too late for the gentleman act.”
“Shelly…” The muscles in his cheeks pulled taut. “I never thought I’d see you like that again. What happened the other night was selfish of me.”
She pressed her lips together as she recalled their one night in a snowstorm, the adrenaline of running for their lives, and the safety of the cabin. It was easier to have a one-night stand when you didn’t remain with that person. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. Things are different now. That night will be…” —she thought for a moment— “special.” When Fletch didn’t disagree she asked, “Tonight?”
“Tonight, we’ll be back on the road.”
“If you’re going to be putting in hours driving, I definitely want you to have the bed.”
Michelle couldn’t believe her eyes when they pulled up to the two-story motel outside of Peoria, Illinois. After leaving the interstate, Fletch drove a few back roads that seemed too narrow for oncoming traffic. If Michelle were asked, this would be the last place she would rent a room. “You can’t be serious. This looks like it belongs in an episode of Criminal Minds.”
“I guess it depends on who you think the criminal is, me or someone else.”
Her eyes widened as she took in the rundown parking lot, the sign advertising television, and the front office with bars on the windows. “Do they rent rooms by the hour?”
“Probably. Think of it as shabby chic.” He turned in her direction. “They also don’t have an issue with people paying cash. Most likely, they won’t check my ID. It’s not the Ritz, but it will do for a place to sleep.”
She shivered. “If you say so.”
Fletch parked as far away from the front office as possible. He went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. When he walked toward the barred window, Michelle noticed that he had his hair all tucked under a ball cap. In less than two minutes, Fletch was back with a key in his hand—an actual key. It was attached to a plastic tag labeled with the number 108.
It was the room right in front of where he’d parked.
When Michelle opened the car door, she had to kick a fast-food bag out of the way. Wrinkling her nose, she hurried from the car and met Fletch at the door. Her red hair was covered with the stocking cap.
Michelle’s expectations for the interior were nonexistent as Fletch opened the door. To her surprise, other than everything being outdated and worn, the room was clean and thankfully, didn’t reek of smoke.
“No couch,” they said in unison.
The furnishings were standard fare: one queen-sized bed, two bedside stands, a tiny table with two vinyl-covered chairs, and a TV stand. The closet was a metal rod attached to the far wall. The vanity was visible. Undoubtedly, the toilet and shower were off to the side.
Fletch closed the heavy curtains and walked back, checking the bathroom. When he returned, he said, “I’ll take the floor.”
“No. We’re both tired. We can share the bed as…” She hesitated and motioned between them. “Whatever this is. What is this, savior and victim? Friends after a one-night stand? Kidnapper and kidnappee?”
“I’m not a fan of labels, but if you can sleep next to me” —he grinned and quirked a brow— “and only sleep, I’ll do my best to follow suit.”
“Deal.”
“Which suitcase do you need?” he asked.
Michelle flung the covers back on the bed. “No bedbugs.” She looked up. “I didn’t put that much effort into packing. Could you bring all three in? I’ll get them more organized after a shower, some food, and sleep.”
Fletch returned with Michelle’s bags, a backpack, and a duffel bag, Fletch opened the duffel bag and removed a small gun. “Since you’re familiar with guns…”
Her eyes opened wide. “I didn’t shoot the one last night. I had to do a YouTube video to remember how to load it.”
“This one is a Glock 19.” He handed it her direction. “It’s heavier than your Sig Sauer due to the double-stack magazine.”
Michelle took a step backward. “I brought mine.”
