Page 173 of Reaper
The night clerk, who looks like he’s barely eighteen, eyes us warily as we walk in and he shifts a little behind the counter.
“Good evening, how can I help you?”
“Two rooms please, and is there any way they can be adjoining rooms?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible.
The clerk, whose badge says his name is Brian, taps away on his computer and I notice a slight tremble in his fingers. Is it because of us or did the assholes who took Lark give him problems earlier? Or is it something else entirely?
He nods and then as he grabs the keys, the cuff of his shirt rides up a bit and my gaze lasers in on the bruising around his wrist. I hesitate, not wanting to spook the poor boy. I share a glance with Python and he gives me a chin lift, letting me know he saw the same thing. As soon as we get in the room, he’ll be combing through the security feed. If those assholes laid hands on this kid as well, they’re in for a world of hurt on top of what is already coming their way.
The kid slides two envelopes toward us. “Your rooms are on the third floor, 302 and 304, and yes they are adjoining. The closest entrance to your rooms, if you don’t want to take the elevator, is around back on the east side of the building.”
He goes on, explaining the usual spiel you get when checking into a hotel. Internet information, breakfast, and where the ice machines and elevators are.
Taking the cards, we head out into the storm and pull around back. I grab my backpack, wishing I had more than just my two handguns, and lead the way inside and up to our rooms. As we walk, Devil hands me a familiar bag.
“Grabbed a few things for you and Mama Astrid grabbed some things for our Queen as well.”
The hard glint in his eyes, in all their eyes, tells me they’re all looking forward to hurting whoever took Lark. But behind that hard glint, is also respect and worry for their Queen, my Old Lady, and soon to be wife. If they’ve laid a hand on her, they’ll be enjoying an even longer stay down in the cellar than they’ve already earned.
As I step into our room, I take in everything as Devil and Razor secure the rooms. I check my weapons and my mind wanders to Lark, praying she hasn’t been harmed. Then my traitorous mind goes back to when Half-pint and I were kidnapped by Black Plague, and I slam the door on those memories. I can’t think about that right now.
However, a sliver of those memories refuses to be shut away. How Half-pint held her own during the whole ordeal. My thoughts shift to Lark again and it’s then that I really let the thought form that I’ve been having for months. That Lark is made of the same cloth as Half-pint, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she put her name in to Prospect and become a full member at some point.
I’m brought out of my thoughts as Python grumbles under his breath and I turn to find he’s set up multiple laptops on the desk.
“Her tracking shows she’s close, but you won’t believe this, Pres.”
He points to the laptop in the middle and presses play, showing a man dressed in black entering the motel about an hour ago. My frown deepens when I see those same bruises already on Brian’s wrist which means he got them a different way. I shake that off for now and focus on the man dressed in black.
He takes his cards and then leaves out the front door. Python flips the security feed and follows him as he pulls around toward the back and then gets out, looking around. He closes the door and then opens the back door. My blood boils as he hoists Lark up in his arms as the other three men get out of the SUV and they all head inside. I frown as I watch them climb the stairs up to the third floor and then my eyes widen when I see which room they go into.
Room 306.
My gaze darts to the far wall of the room we’re in, which is room 304.
Lark, my Neith, my Darlin’, is on the other side of that wall.
Everyone quiets down as we try to hear something, anything, from that room, but all we’re met with is silence and a child’s playful shriek coming from down the hall.
Hang on, Lark. I’m coming.
Chapter 65
Lark
MyheadpoundsasI fight back the fog of sleep. Fuck, why does my body aches so much? I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. And why is my mouth dry? It’s like I have cotton for a tongue.
What the hell happened?
I try to move when something bites into my wrists and ankles. In a panic, I freeze as realization slams into me.
I’m tied up.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
No, I can’t freak out right now. I’m not trapped under Erik. I’m not back in that fire.
Somehow, I wrestle my emotions under control and I can only hope that my breathing wasn’t noticeable while I was panicking.
