Page 1 of Risk It All
Chapter 1
Cara tried to act casual as she walked along the motel’s cracked, weedy sidewalk, but she knew she looked exactly like what she was: a kindergarten teacher—well, almost—who was scared out of her mind. If she told her sisters what she was about to do, they’d yank her home and tie her to a chair to keep her safe. Now that their home and bounty-hunter business were under threat, however, she needed to do more to help.
But of all the cases to take, why did she have to pick a killer?
Stopping at Room 87—the green door with suspicious dark-red splatters that had dried across it—she took a quick glance around before pulling her lock-pick kit out of her pocket. Her fingers trembled, making her fumble the picks.
“Stop it,” she muttered. “You’re good at this. Quit being a chicken.”
This was her chance. She’d watched Kavenski get on the one-ten bus, but she wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. She needed to plant the tracker in his things before he returned…and potentially caught her in the act. The thought of him walking in on her made her shake even harder. Finally, though, the dead bolt released with aclick, and she exhaled hard, relief and a fresh surge of nerves coursing through her. She’d done it. Now she just had to go inside.
She reached for the door handle, the metal cold and slightly greasy to the touch. It gave under her hand, and the door swung open. Her heart thumping in her ears, she peered into the dim space, the smell of mildew and stale cigarette smoke tickling her nose. Her feet didn’t want to move. Once she stepped over the threshold, that was it. When she was inside, she couldn’t pretend she’d been just another motel guest, innocently strolling past.
Stop hesitating, she told herself firmly.Go.Blowing out a silent breath, she shored up her eroded courage and stepped inside.
A hard hand clamped down over her shoulder and shoved her into the room before she could even suck in a breath to scream.
Her fingers tightened around the lockpick in her right hand and the tension tool in her left. She spun around, the soles of her shoes catching against the worn scruff of the carpet, and held the two tiny steel tools up in front of her as if they were weapons. As Henry Kavenski—who looked even more enormous close up than he did from a half block away—shoved the door closed, she locked her knees to keep them from shaking. Cold sweat prickled along her hairline as her brain frantically scrolled through everything she had done wrong. She wasn’t prepared. She should’ve brought a Taser or even some pepper spray or, better yet, backup. Her sisters were going to be so pissed she’d gotten herself killed in such a stupid way.
From the hard set of Henry Kavenski’s mouth, he wasn’t feeling particularly merciful.
They stared at each other without speaking, the only sound Cara’s heart thundering in her ears and the rapid breaths she couldn’t seem to slow. Despite her panic, she still noticed the details that she’d missed during the weeks spent tracking him from a distance. The scruff on his face was just slightly darker than the sun-bleached, tousled hair falling across his brow. His jaw was solid, almost blocky, his nose and mouth drawn with aggressive slashing lines, but the tops of his ears came to the slightest point. That unexpectedlyelvendetail didn’t fit with the rest of his solid form and rugged features. Henry Kavenski was more an ogre or giant.
She blinked, pulling her racing thoughts back in line. He still hadn’t said a word, and she wasn’t sure whether that meant she should be more or less terrified. Their mutual silence did give her a chance to come up with a plan—a fairly dumb plan, but at least it might give her a chance to get out of this alive.
“Who are you?” Her voice shook, but she figured that was only natural.
His scowl deepened. He still didn’t make a sound.
Her trembling worsened, fingers tightening around the lock-picking tools. She tried to tuck them behind her in a way that looked natural, but his gaze followed the movement. His eyes met hers again, and she fought to keep from quailing beneath that stone-cold glower. Up until this moment, her foray into fieldwork had seemed like a game. Now that she was caught, just a few feet from a professional killer, it didn’t feel like a game anymore. This was just flat-out terrifying, and she scrambled to think of some way she could escape alive.
“What are you doing in”—she mentally grabbed for an imaginary friend’s name—“Martin’s room?”
His head cocked just slightly in question, although those eerily light eyes didn’t soften.
Cara cleared her throat, using the excuse to take a precious few moments to scrabble for composure. It helped slightly, but she knew that all the time in the world wouldn’t magically give her nerves of steel. She’d never envied her twin sister’s badassery more. “I came here to surprise him. Uh…Martin.” Why was her brain working at turtle-slow speed? She knew she’d think of all kinds of credible stories as soon as she left the room—ifshe managed to leave.
The reminder that these could easily be her last minutes alive spurred her to keep going. “I passed my test. My…” She held her hands in front of her, forcing her fingers open to reveal the slim tools. “My locksmith test. Martin gave me some tips when I was practicing for it, and I thought we could go out to celebrate. Mexican. He loves Mexican.”
What are you doing, dummy?
She made herself stop adding made-up details about her nonexistent but very helpful friend and finished weakly with “This is his room.”
Kavenski still didn’t say anything. He didn’t even twitch. Instead, he continued to glare at her with those chilly eyes that reminded her of what he was…a killer. A pro. He was most likely contemplating the easiest way to dispose of her body.
Her imagination raced, her heart pounded, and she struggled to swallow around a suddenly dry throat. The air in the musty room thickened as dread filled her.
His considerable bulk blocked the one and only door, and the window was covered by heavy polyester drapes. Even if she took him off guard with a sudden dash, there wouldn’t be enough time for her to open the window—if itwasopenable.
Tension twisted her insides until it was difficult to breathe. She had to say something, or the silence would smother her.
“What are you doing in Martin’s room?” she demanded again. Even though she was positive he knew her story was a complete lie, it was all she had.
When he shifted his weight, she flinched, but he just leaned back against the door and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Before Cara could do more than twitch toward the window, he dropped his arms to his sides. She froze, her gaze never leaving his face. The chill in his eyes was still there, but there was a slight droop to his mouth that made him look suddenly human…and extraordinarily tired.
“Are you okay?” The words were out before she realized how ridiculous they were. Still, her mouth kept moving, as if it were separate from her brain. “Have you been sleeping?”
He blinked.
