Running Scared

by Velvet Vaughn

  “Mr. Elliot? It’s Detective Spears with the DPD. I found your number on Detective Fuller’s desk. Wherever you are, you need to get out of there now. Your location might’ve been compromised.”

  Instantly vigilant, he jumped to his feet. “Why? What happened?”

  Alerted to the tone in his voice, Kenzie gently shook Jamal awake and they climbed out of the other side of the bed. They’d worn their clothes and shoes for this specific reason. The bags were packed and resting beside the door. He was already moving in that direction.

  “Fuller’s been murdered, and his partner Lyons is missing.”

  Oh, damn. Declan closed his eyes. “How?”

  “It was violent. He was tortured. I don’t know for sure whoever did this was looking for you three, but I don’t want to take any chances. It’s bad. They gave him a Columbian necktie.”

  Declan winced. The method of execution was brutal. A person’s neck was slit horizontally and then their tongue was pulled through the opening, hence the necktie moniker.

  “It’s one of the Dog’s signature kill methods. The Eighty-Sixers must’ve hooked up with them.”

  “We’re leaving now.”

  “You’d better get rid of the phone you’re using. They might be able to track it. Call me when you can so I’ll know you’re safe.” He rattled off his extension and Declan committed it to memory. “When you call, I’ll keep you updated on this end.”

  He disconnected and headed to the bathroom and the complimentary sewing kit he’d spotted in there earlier. Using a pin, he popped the slide open on his phone and withdrew his SIM card.

  “Declan? What is it?”

  He turned to Kenzie standing in the doorway. “We need to leave now.”

  He tossed the SIM in the toilet and flushed it, making sure the small disk disappeared down the pipes. Then he smashed the phone and scraped the pieces in the trash can.

  Kenzie was holding Jamal’s hand as they waited for him by the door. “I go out first.” After flipping off the lights, he eased the curtain aside. A few people were milling about in the late afternoon, but none looked like gang members. Carefully opening the door, he checked for any suspicious vehicles or people, finding none. He motioned for Jamal and Kenzie to come out. The motel was shaped in an L. He didn’t know how much time they had or where to go on short notice. He didn’t want to get caught on the road. He led them along the sidewalk to the other section of rooms, pausing in a breezeway with an ice machine. He tested a handle on a door, surprised when it opened. Finding a light, he discovered a room full of housekeeping carts and supplies. He snatched a key from one of the carts. Someone had left their universal key that opened every door in the motel in an unlocked supply room. Didn’t that make him feel safe?

  “You two stay in here out of sight. I’m going to procure another room for us to use.” He started to hand Kenzie the weapon. “You know how to use it?”

  “I’m a single woman living in New York City. Of course, I can fire a gun.”

  He smiled at her sass and went in search of a place to hide out. He wanted to find a room with a view of their old one. Whoever killed Fuller might not be after them, but he wanted to keep watch in case. The curtains were open on the first window he passed, which was the end unit. He used the key to unlock the door then glanced across the parking lot. It had an optimum view of their old room. It didn’t have the king-sized bed Jamal originally requested, but two double beds instead. They’d have to do. After checking to make sure no dubious vehicles had appeared, he went to retrieve the two and hustle them inside.

  Oblivious to the danger, Jamal asked, “Can I watch TV?”

  He didn’t want to scare him and letting him watch television seemed the best course of action. “Sure.”

  Kenzie started to pull the curtains, but he stopped her. “In case anyone looks in, I want them to think the room’s empty. I’ll go back to the storage area and grab some blankets and pillows to make a bed on the bathroom floor. If someone comes, I need you and Jamal to hide out in there.”

  Kenzie nodded, her eyes wide with worry. He had the insane urge to kiss her, to reassure her he wouldn’t let anything happen to either one of them. He’d give up his life first. Before he opened his mouth and spouted words he had no business thinking, let alone saying, he slid outside and rounded the corner, finding the items he was looking for. He hit the jackpot with a shelf of snacks for the vending machines. He didn’t usually indulge in junk food and technically this might be considered stealing, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He didn’t want to risk running out to get something to eat, leaving Kenzie and Jamal alone. They’d left the box of food Detective Fuller secured for them in the old room.

  After filling a pillowcase with bags of salty chips, pretzels, candy bars and bottles of water, he lugged his bounty back to their room.

  Kenzie took the bedding from his arms. “You’ll tell me what’s going on?”

  He glanced at Jamal to make sure his attention was elsewhere. “Soon.”

  She nodded and retreated to the bathroom to make up a bed for later. He secured the locks on the door and jammed the desk chair under the handle for good measure.

  When she returned, he dumped the food items out and they each selected their favorites. He sat where he could watch their old room. Covered in cheese crumbs, Jamal smiled. “I could get used to eating like this.”

  “Well, don’t,” Declan told him. “It’s fresh fruits and vegetables once we’re home.”

  Jamal’s smile faded and he gazed at Declan with guarded hope. “Did you mean it when you said I get to live with you? You weren’t just saying that?”

  “You really do.” He hoped it was true. He wasn’t sure if there were any other long-lost relatives who might crawl out of the woodwork to claim him. He didn’t even know about Jamal’s dad or if he was in the picture. But he’d do everything in his power to make it happen.

  Jamal launched at Declan and he caught him, hugging him tight. “You get cheese doodles on me and you’re in trouble, little man.”

  Jamal laughed wickedly, wiggling his orange fingers in Declan’s face.

  “Go wash up before you stain the few clothes we have left.”

  Movement out of the corner of his eye had him swiveling back to the window as a car drove slowly down the parking lot. It was a beige sedan with dark windows. It pulled into a space close to their old room. He was about to tell Kenzie to retreat to the bathroom when the back doors opened and two kids jumped out, bobbing up and down as they pointed to the playground.

  He released his breath as Jamal returned and settled back on the bed. They found a Minion show to watch from the free movie channel. Declan helped Kenzie clean up the empty wrappers and bottles, and they dumped the trash in the basket in the bathroom. He’d need to straighten the comforter on the bed Jamal was sprawled on, too, so the room looked unoccupied.

  One hour passed into two as the sequel started to play. Though he’d managed a couple of hours of sleep earlier in the day, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open through the movie. Daylight was fading and there’d been no gang sightings. Maybe Fuller’s murder had nothing to do with them. Or maybe they were waiting for the cloak of darkness to make their move. He hoped it was the former, but he was betting on the latter.

  Jamal fell asleep during the third movie. Declan slid his arms under him and carried him to the bed Kenzie made on the floor in the bathroom. He hated to turn off the light in case Jamal woke up, but he didn’t want the illumination to draw attention. It would spill beneath the closed door.

  “Here.” Kenzie maneuvered around him to plug in a nightlight and then doused the overhead. When he eased the door closed, the light wasn’t visible.

  “We picked it up at the department store,” she explained. “He said he liked the dog, but I was pretty sure it was because he needed the light to sleep.”

  “Good thinking.” She was a natural with Jamal and he clearly adored her.

  It was compl
etely dark out now. Declan straightened the comforters on both beds and scanned the room for any items out of place. There was another chair in the corner, and he tugged it into position until he could view the parking lot and their old room. Kenzie eased to the edge of the bed beside him.

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

  She crossed her legs. “I’m not tired. Tell me what happened. Why did we need to leave the old room?”

  “Detective Fuller was murdered.”

  She covered a gasp with her hand. “Oh, no. When? How?”

  “I’m not sure when. Not too long ago. His throat was slit.” He left out the part where the tongue had been pulled through the opening. She didn’t need that visual. He wished he could erase it from his mind. “His partner is missing, too.”

  “Who called you?”

  “Detective Spears. He works on the gang task force. He wasn’t sure whoever killed Fuller was after us but—”

  He broke off when headlights slashed into the room and four separate vehicles squealed into the parking lot. He jumped to his feet and scooted the chair back in place. He and Kenzie watched as a dozen men piled out with guns blazing and headed directly for their old room. They busted in the door and funneled inside.

  That left no doubt. “They are looking for us.”

  #

  Excitement surged through Luis Gomez at the prospect of finally capturing the elusive Jamal West. How hard was it to grab one sniveling child? You’d think the kid was the reincarnation of Houdini himself for the way he kept disappearing. Luis hated having to bring in anyone else, but he and Blaze were having a heck of a time tracking him down, especially after the black-haired bitch nailed Blaze with the car door. He still wasn’t fully recovered. Neither was he from the fork in the leg. The wound throbbed and now it was festering and red. He’d make sure the kid paid for the pain and suffering he’d caused.

  He hadn’t wanted to call in any of their homeboys for backup. He needed to be seen as the new boss and asking for help would seriously dent his leadership creds. Blaze had a cousin in the Detroit Original Gangsters, so they’d called in the locals for reinforcements, and though they didn’t give details on why they wanted the boy, the other gang had been more than eager to assist. They had a contact in the police department who fed them the information on the detective in charge of the case. It’d been one of the Dogs who tortured the cop for details on where to find West. He’d even taken pictures of his kill. Apparently, the detective hadn’t given up the information easily. They’d grabbed his partner, too, and used her as leverage. When the man refused to talk, they’d started in on her and soon, he was singing like a canary. Luis had no idea what happened to the puta. He didn’t care. She wasn’t his concern.

  As they bumped into the parking lot, he hissed when his throbbing leg bounced on the seat. He really ought to have it looked at, but he hated hospitals. Doc Smithers could check it out when they returned to Chicago, hopefully tonight. Doc had been an emergency room medic until he mixed pills and booze on the job and killed some big-name lawyer’s wife when he administered a fatal dose of a drug that stopped her heart. Smithers had been stripped of his license, spent a few years in the slammer and joined up with them when he was paroled.

  Despite pain that had sweat beading on his forehead, Luis couldn’t keep his excitement down. Once they retrieved the information they needed, he was guaranteed as the new head of the Eighty-Sixers.

  “We better have the little brat this time,” Blaze grumbled from the driver’s seat. “I want to go home.”

  One thing Luis discovered on this trip was that Blaze was a big baby. He’d whined and moaned more than a toddler. Luis’s leg was about to fall off and you didn’t hear him complaining. Much. He’d considered naming Blaze as his second in command, but he needed someone who could handle the job. Blaze couldn’t even handle his own johnson. “We’ve got him.” He was sure of it.

  Three cars filled with Dogs had followed them for the takedown. Overkill, but whatever. He told them that the woman, Mackenzie Bryant of New York, and man they now knew was Declan Elliot from, coincidentally, their hometown of Chicago, were expendable. Only the boy was to be kept alive.

  He and Blaze would lead the charge into the room, with the Dogs at their back. Once they were out of their vehicles, he gave the signal and they rushed the room. Blaze used his size thirteen foot encased in worn Doc Martens boots to bust open the door. Luis flipped on the lights and leveled his gun to find the room—empty? His wound throbbed in sync with his rapidly rising heartbeat. “Check the bathroom,” he ordered Blaze.

  They couldn’t have outwitted him again. He’d never lead the Eighty-Sixers if the others found out how hard it’d been to grab one stinking brat. They’d lose their confidence in him.

  Blaze came out of the bathroom with fragments of plastic in his hand. “They’re gone, but this was in the trash.” He dumped the bits on the bed.

  Luis examined the pieces. It’d been a cell phone once. They’d been warned. He turned and glared at the men behind him. Was it someone from the Dogs?

  “They couldn’t have gone far. Check all around the buildings,” he ordered, knowing it was probably a waste of time. He’d been the one who insisted they wait until midnight to raid the room. He wanted darkness and the element of surprise on his side. Plus, it’d be easier to get in and out with the kid at night. If they’d come as soon as the Dogs gathered the intel, they might’ve caught him. Crucial leadership mistake.

  As the others filed from the room, he scooped up the shards of plastic and hurled them against the wall. The damn kid foiled him again.

  #

  Kenzie truly felt like she was living out a plot in one of her client’s mystery novels. Things like burning houses, car bombs and now armed militias were common in the books. Not something that happened to her in her wildest dreams—or nightmares.

  What started out as two men had grown to twelve, all looking for one little boy. She glanced at Declan’s strong profile, feeling safe despite the precarious circumstances. She’d take him over the dozen anytime.

  Her attention snapped back to their old room. The men began pouring out splitting in different directions.

  “Get down between the beds,” Declan urged. One look over her shoulder confirmed that several men were headed their way.

  She’d dove for cover, rolling as close to the bed as possible so they wouldn’t spot her if they looked in the window. Declan’s big body dropped down beside her, startling a gasp from her as she rolled to face him.

  “Shh,” he whispered, crowding close to her so his rock-hard body was like a comforting wall of strength. She concentrated on breathing evenly so panic didn’t cause her to hyperventilate. She had no doubt Declan could take out Blaze and Boomer easily, probably without breaking a sweat. But now that the numbers had quadrupled, they were seriously outnumbered.

  WWSD? Storm would probably rip the door open, march outside with a pistol in each hand, taking out the bad guys right and left in a kickass pair of peep toe Louboutin’s with a five-inch heel. The fact that Kenzie was curled on the floor paralyzed with fear and struggling not to wet herself proved once again, she was no Shiloh Storm.

  While Declan’s attention was focused on the impending threat, she concentrated on studying his rugged profile to keep her panic at bay. He was sporting a tempting five o’clock shadow that she wanted to rub her cheek against like a needy kitten. The heat pouring off him was like a steamy furnace, warming her chilled body. If he had an ounce of fat, it was hiding somewhere she couldn’t see. His muscles were completely ripped.

  Spots of light flicked against the wall and faint sounds of voices could be heard outside. They were here. When the doorknob rattled, she grasped Declan’s arm. It was like clasping solid rock. Her breathing sped up, expecting for the door to fly open at any moment. Something clanged against the window. Were they going to break it? White spots danced against her eyelids. A soft touch against her cheek had her eyes popping op
en. Declan was staring at her as he brushed a tendril of hair off her face.

  “Breathe,” he mouthed.

  She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding it in. He cupped her face, his thumb rubbing gently up and down. The move soothed her. She didn’t even flinch when the door rattled again. His strength and courage seeped into her. The voices grew faint as the group moved on.

  Now her heart was racing for an altogether different reason. Though it was dark, muted light from the parking lot filtered inside. This close, she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. What would he do if she breached the tiny gap and kissed him? Storm certainly would’ve taken charge. Heck, she’d have him naked by now.

  Declan read her mind because the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Goodness was he kissing her. It wasn’t a tame, gentle first meeting of lips, nor a tentative exploration. This was raw and passionate, a raging inferno of lust and need and all-out carnal intent. It was hot and wet with tongues and teeth and sucking and groans. He was claiming her.

  Maybe it was the rush from narrowly escaping certain death, but she had to touch him. It was crucial. Tugging his shirt from his jeans, she shoved it up to run her hands along his stomach and chest. She’d love to take time to explore every ridge and dip in his heavily muscled torso but need consumed her. When he lifted her shirt, shoved her bra out of the way and feasted on her breasts, it was all she could do to keep from screaming in pleasure. Forking her hand in his hair, she forced his head back up for another soul-searing kiss. His big palm slid inside her yoga pants and her back arched off the ground. The next she knew, he was jerking them down her legs. Somehow, he’d worked his jeans down his hips and sheathed himself in a condom before she realized what was happening. Maybe she should be worried it was too fast, but she wanted this as much as he did—if not more.