by Liz Johnson
The officer looked down. “I was really sorry to hear that Larry took off. We sure like Ms. Edna. Any word where he might have gone or why?”
Kenzie shook hear head vigorously. “Nope. Just got sick of the place, I guess.” Myles cringed. He had a good idea why Whitestall had taken off. Their one and only phone call was the likely culprit. The guard had been wondering the same thing as Myles—what reason would the man behind the plot to kill Kenzie have for keeping his pawn alive? No reason to keep him around—and a lot of good ones to get rid of him, too. Whoever this mastermind was, he hadn’t immediately revealed himself. He was smarter than a lot of criminals, and he wouldn’t leave loose ends. The guard was a loose end. He knew too much.
Myles was sure Whitestall had run out of sheer self-preservation.
“Do you want me to call for an ambulance?”
“Naw.” Kenzie hiked up her pants and jabbed Myles in the ribs again. He’d never been so thankful to be poked. She was in character and completely in control of this situation. He’d seen her spitting mad and cool and collected since the kidnapping, but he hadn’t seen her this in control since she taught a room full of convicted felons. “It was just a scratch. We used the first-aid kit in Aunt Edna’s bathroom and tied a belt around his leg. I’m just going to take him back to the hotel and let him sleep for a while.”
“All right. Well, drive safe.”
The officer pulled his car from the curb and drove slowly down the street.
Kenzie waited several seconds, then dragged Myles across the road and shoved him into the backseat of her car. He bumped his head on the car frame and fell like a rag doll onto the upholstery. He pulled his knees to his chest as quickly as he could, to avoid losing a foot in the slamming door.
She yanked open the front door and huffed into the driver’s seat. “Keys.” It was a demand.
He dug in his jeans pocket and handed them to her. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.
Ah, the return of Spicy Kenzie.
She missed the ignition hole with the key and shoved at it again. It banged into place and she revved the engine before practically squealing the tires.
“Nice work there with the cop.” He tried to fill the silence, to help her calm down.
Her reflection glared at him through the rearview mirror. “No thanks to you!” she spat.
“You were amazing! Where did you come up with that story?”
“Quit trying to make nice! You—you—you got yourself reinjured and left me to fend for the both of us. And you made me lie! I hate lying! How dare you!”
The adrenaline from the run-in with the cop was likely taking over her emotions, causing her to lash out at him. Kenzie yanked the wheel to the right, then the left, swerving in and out of the busy lanes of traffic.
Myles swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked at unexpected wetness in his eyes. The pain vanished, and he could only focus on the enormous, stormy-gray eyes that reflected back to him in the rearview mirror. And then he noticed the liquid pooling at the inside corners of her eyes.
“Kenz, pull over.”
Her nostrils flared, and her left eye squinted, as it was apt to do when she was this upset.
“Kenzie. Pull over. We can’t afford to be in an accident and have another meeting with a cop.”
She glared at him again, but pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store and turned the car off.
Fighting through the pain, Myles worked to free himself from the backseat. He wiggled left, bringing searing pain, wiggled right—slightly less pain.
Finally, he stood outside Kenzie’s door and tugged it open. He ignored his spinning head. Pulling her to her feet, he blocked her against the car and cupped her face with his palms. Her eyes darted around the parking lot, looking at anything but him.
“Kenzie,” he whispered softly. “I’m going to do my best to protect you. I’m not leaving you anytime soon.”
“But you were—you were so heavy and…and you are still bleeding.”
“Forget about the leg. I’m fine. A little weak. In need of a new Band-Aid, maybe. But I’m fine.”
She still refused to look into his face, even as he brushed a tear from her cheek. “I was—I was afraid that I’d lose you. That we’d be caught. That that cop would see right through me and that crazy story. I was so afraid—”
Myles could not make out the rest of the words that she mumbled, as she flung her arms around his waist and tucked her face into his neck. He simply rubbed his hands in small circles over her shoulder blades and whispered nonsense into her hair.
When she finally pulled back and met his gaze, she smiled tremulously. “I’m sorry I just broke down on you.” She tapped the damp spot on his shirt and made a funny face.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I took you into that house.” He glared at his shoes. “I guess it was a waste of time. I thought for sure there would be some useful information in there.”
And maybe if I’d spent less time on dead-end stacks of newspapers, we’d have found it.
“Well, it wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
“I know. Now we know a slightly crazy woman lives there.”
A crazy woman who puts newspapers out like a red herring, just waiting for Special Agent Borden to fall for it.
Kenzie dug into the front pocket of her jeans and held out her hand. A small scrap of yellow paper sat in her palm. “We know Joe, and we know a phone number.”
ELEVEN
Kenzie pulled her car into the parking lot of a small motel on the corner of Main and Jewel Drive. “The Jewel” claimed vacancies at only $29.99 per night.
“What are you doing?” Myles mumbled from the backseat.
Glancing at his still form filling the entire backseat, Kenzie parked the car and opened her door. “I’m going to get you a room. You need to get some rest so you can stop bleeding.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m sick of you getting blood all over Lenora’s car. So just sit still for a second. I’ll be back.”
She hurried toward the front office. Her face and arms flushed with the heat of the late summer day. Yanking open the glass door, she walked into a wall of humidity. Her hope for a short reprieve denied, Kenzie sucked in a shallow breath and hunched her shoulders, creating room between her skin and the lightweight cotton of her shirt.
A man with a brown mustache and no other hair on his head sat on the opposite side of a plastic partition that ran the length of the counter. Circular dirt smudges covered the tan countertop, and Kenzie resisted the urge to lean on it.
“Help you?” the ogre on the other side of the counter grunted. He stood, showing off his wide girth. His white T-shirt sported yellow stains around his neck and under his arms, and he sucked at his front tooth, the sound grating for even well-rested nonfugitives. Bloodshot eyes roamed from her knees to the secondhand baseball cap.
Kenzie’s muscles tensed and she physically restrained herself from shuddering. “Sure. I need a room for me and a friend.”
“Just the one night?”
“For now.”
“You know we rent for shorter periods than the night.” He glanced pointedly from Kenzie to her car.
She couldn’t contain a full-body shudder this time. Nostrils flaring, she reached into her pocket and produced two twenty-dollar bills. “Just one full night for now.”
The man shrugged and handed her a key and her change through the opening in the partition. “Number three. Around the corner. Third door.”
Kenzie nodded and backed away from the man, too disgusted to turn her back on him. When she reached the door, she almost sprinted to the car, then slammed the door shut. Every motion jerky and rushed, she pulled the car around to the side of the single-story building.
Myles somehow seemed to know her discomfort, so he made the transition from the car to the motel room using as little assistance as he could. His feet shuffled along the sidewalk until she fumbled with the key in the door of room three.
Kenzie smiled to herself as she closed the crusty curtains, attempting to block some of the glaring sunlight, and fiddled with the air conditioner. Unlike every other hotel room she had ever stayed in, the air conditioner was not turned on full-blast. All of the markings on the unit had long since been rubbed away, so she twisted the knobs until it gave a tremble and then hissed out lukewarm air.
The room was small with one double bed. A round table with a single chair sat in the far corner, and the strong smell of stale smoke permeated every corner. A tiny television that looked older than Kenzie sat on what looked like a TV tray in the corner adjacent to the table and chair.
“Well, maybe we’ll be able to watch some news.”
When she realized there was nothing else to the single room, she dropped into the hard plastic of the chair and leaned her arms on the table, resting her forehead against them.
She fought a surge of self-pity that threatened to bring more tears and anger. Never in her life had she spent the night in a pit like this. Her parents and grandparents always stayed in five-star hotels and resorts. Even as a child, she had visited some of the finest hotels in the country. Her grandparents loved to travel and they always took her with them. Mostly, she missed the security she felt when Mac and Nana were near. It didn’t matter what kind of hotel they stayed in, as long as they were together.
Myles snorted, but didn’t wake up, and the lumps in the pillows next to his head were clearly visible from where she sat.
Would she ever return to traveling with her grandparents? Would she ever return to the life she once knew?
God, please help me to get back to my family. Back to the life I had. I just want things to be the way that they were. I miss Mac and Nana. Please just help me to get back to them.
Oh, and please take care of Myles. He’s really been so good to me. And You know how much I like him. He’s a good man. So please, would You mind taking care of him when I go back?
When Kenzie woke from her catnap, her eyes felt like sandpaper on the soft tissue of her eyelids. Her neck ached, and she twisted it from side to side, attempting to work out the painful kinks. Her left hand tingled, refusing to wake up.
A quick glance around the room told her that God had not instantly answered her prayers for a return to her family. Myles still snored softly on the bed next to her chair. Stale smoke had now seeped into her clothes, and she could smell it on her collar.
A loud growl echoed in the room, and she almost missed the fact that it came from her own stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten a full meal. Probably the beef stew that Lenora had fixed for them just before they left the cabin. Even that felt like a million years ago. She was far removed from everything, from every bit of the world that could clue her in to the passing of time. Had it been a week? Two?
It couldn’t be that long. Probably only a few days. Maybe four or five? She really had no clue at all. She moved to turn on the television, hoping for some news, but a sudden snort from Myles reminded her that he needed as much sleep as he could get in the next few days.
“Brammm, hmmm,” he mumbled. But a small smile curved the corners of his lips, and he looked more peaceful than he had since they left the prison. However many days ago that had been.
Without thinking, she ran her fingers over his forehead and ruffled the thick brown hair at his temples. She didn’t realize that she had been checking for a fever until a surge of relief flooded her. They were far from the cabin in the woods. Far from that first night after the mountain lion attack. He was fine. Would be fine. But he probably needed new pants.
I probably need new pants, too.
The glaring red stain on her own pant leg proved her theory. New pants and maybe a clean shirt. She smiled at the thought. Clean anything these days was an improvement.
The harsh light of the midday sun no longer flooded the room from the sides of the moth-eaten curtains, but it was getting close to disappearing for the rest of the night. She would have to hurry to find new clothes, food and a first-aid kit before it got dark. For the first time in her life, something in her heart told her that the night wasn’t safe for her. She’d never been scared of the dark. Not even as a child.
One of her first memories was of Mac tucking her into her bed at his home. She had whimpered about the proverbial monster in the closet, and he had told her to never fear the dark. In his deep baritone he said, “A great man once said that you have nothing to fear but fear itself. You have nothing to fear here.” He’d kissed her forehead and snuggled the quilt in tighter under her chin. Then he’d clicked off the bedside lamp, walked into the hallway and closed the door.
She slept very soundly that night. And every night since. Until Myles Borden slammed into her life, disrupting everything she knew and treasured.
She shot him one more glance, then hurried to the door. She turned the knob with a small click, then ever so slowly inched it open.
One leg through the doorway and the hinge creaked loudly.
“Going somewhere?”
Kenzie spun around as though caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She slammed the door shut, then leaned her back against the three locks. “Well, I’m hungry. And you need new pants and a first-aid kit.”
The corner of his eyes crinkled in a smile, even if his lips didn’t move. After assessing her for a few moments, he finally said, “Be careful. And be back before dark. Please.” He rolled onto his left side and was snoring again instantly.
Sure her affirming nod was lost to his sleeping figure, she hurried out the door, looking up and down the street for signs of life, stores and police officers.
It was pitch-black when Myles awoke, his head no longer spinning, but his right leg in severe pain. He tested his left knee by bending it slowly, until his foot rested flat against the bed. Pain. Maybe a six. He could handle a six.
It was the eight in the other leg that was causing his eyes to water copiously and his nose to drip. He headed toward the bathroom in search of a tissue.
Immediately, his nose connected with the wall to the left of the bed. “Yeoww!” he howled. He had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming a few choice words that had been part of his everyday vocabulary in the navy.
He cupped his hands around his nose, plunked back onto the bed and waited for the blood to pour and his head to stop spinning. After several seconds the blood still had not come, so he stood again.
The darkness consumed the room, and he suddenly remembered Kenzie. She had promised to be back before dark. Where could she be? Maybe she was sleeping? Or sitting at the table?
“Kenzie. Kenzie!” No response. She wasn’t back yet.
First things first—he needed to find the light. With slow, calculated movements, he reached out to the wall and pressed his hand flat. He followed it in the direction of the foot of the bed and quickly found a corner. Turning with the wall, he found a door. The front door? A closet?
He reached through the open door with one hand and protected his nose with another. He tried to sniff the air, get a feel for his surroundings, but his nose was useless for the time being. He waved his hand around on the other side of the doorway and squinted into the blackness.
Nothing.
He felt and saw nothing. But the frontier needed to be explored. Drawing his back a little straighter, he took baby steps into the unknown, still protecting his throbbing nose.
Shortly, his knee connected with porcelain, and his hand felt a small handle. When he pushed, water rushed through the bowl, swishing around and around.
Well, at least the bathroom would have a light switch he could turn on. He groped the wall until he found the little switch and flicked on the lights. Even the soft bulb beneath a grimy globe made his eyes burn. Blinking rapidly, he slammed his hand against the switch, plunging himself into
darkness again.
Ah, relief.
He sagged against the wall, then pushed himself upright and moved out of the bathroom and backtracked until he found the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard, propped against two flat pillows, legs out straight and arms crossed over his chest.
He scowled into the blackness and waited.
And waited.
Except for crossing the room to the light switch, which his body screamed was not an option, he had no way of confirming how long he sat there. The alarm clock on the bedside table was not digital and his watch, the digital, glow-in-the-dark, two-time-zone one that had been a gift from his parents when he graduated from law school, was with his FBI badge in a safe in his office. But at least it wasn’t at the prison, which he’d never go back to. Not even for another assignment. Scowling, he grudgingly admitted to himself that there was only one reason he’d ever go inside the prison again.
If Kenzie needed him.
Even without an external clock, his internal timepiece told him that about thirty-five minutes passed before Kenzie returned. The minutes ticked by achingly slowly. He drummed his fingers on the rough quilt, lay down and tried to get more rest. He eyed the corner of the room where he assumed a TV sat. Then he contemplated going out after her, but the twinge in his leg warned him that was an unreasonable, ridiculous idea at this point.
And then the lock on the door clicked loudly. The wood scraped the door frame and a sliver of light fell across the hideous shag carpet and onto the corner of the bed. It reached Myles’s foot, illuminating his ratty tennis shoe.
He couldn’t make out Kenzie’s face, shadowed by the fuzzy light outside the door to their room, but he imagined her eyes wide, seeing him sitting up in bed. When she spoke, her tone didn’t disappoint.
“Myles! You’re up. How are you feeling?”
She bustled across the room toward the far corner. He heard what sounded like paper crinkling, then she flicked on the floor lamp next to the table. Blinking against the light, he forced himself to continue looking at her.
