Leverage

by Janie Crouch

  This should be all she needed. The rest she could buy once she got to Washington, DC.

  “I don’t have anything to put this in,” Shelby told Dylan.

  “That’s okay. I’ve got a small duffel bag you can use once we get to my house. Just put your comb and toothbrush in your back pocket and ball up your clothes.”

  Shelby did as he said. “Are we going to need to run?”

  “We will at first, out to the tree line behind the motel. There’s no way around that. We’ve got to get away from the building as quickly as possible. But otherwise, I hope not. Two people sprinting across the street draws a lot more attention than two people just walking fast to get out of the rain.” Dylan looked around the room. “You don’t have a baseball cap or hoodie, do you? Anything with a hood?”

  “No.”

  Dylan shrugged. “Your red hair is hard to hide without something covering it. Just stay as close to me as you can as we’re crossing the street. If I stop, you stop. Don’t ask questions, just do it.”

  Shelby wasn’t planning on asking for justification for everything he did while he was getting them out of here. It would be nice if he would take her for a little bit less of an idiot. “Fine.”

  If Dylan noticed Shelby’s annoyance, he didn’t mention it. He walked over to the front door and turned off the lights in the room, plunging it into darkness.

  “Let’s give our eyes a chance to adjust. Then we’ll head out.”

  Shelby nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

  After a few moments, Shelby’s vision adjusted. Dylan had made his way over to the sliding glass door already and was peering around the curtain.

  “Is somebody out there?” Shelby asked after what seemed like a long time.

  “Probably not. Whoever wants to hurt you would probably come through the front door. Most motel rooms don’t have doors at the back, just windows that don’t open. Unless he’s familiar with this motel specifically, then he’d think the front door was the best bet.”

  “Oh.” Shelby couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say. How did Dylan, a pilot, know all that? Maybe he sat around and watched too many crime shows on television.

  “Are you ready?”

  Shelby took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “Okay, Freckles. Remember, stay as close to me as possible and try not to talk.”

  Did he just call her Freckles? Shelby didn’t even have time to get offended. Dylan was already out the door. She followed him quickly, clothes tucked under her arm, sliding the door shut on her way out.

  Dylan made a dash for the tree line, a hundred feet or so from the hotel. Shelby made sure to keep up with him. Once they were in the cover of the trees, Dylan stopped for a minute.

  “Okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll make our way along the trees to the side of the motel by the office, then we’ll cut across the street. My truck is parked at the bank.”

  They made their way silently along the trees, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Dylan kept hold of the hand Shelby wasn’t using to carry the clothes, keeping her close to his side. Every once in a while Dylan would stop and peer out. Shelby forced herself not to ask what he saw, if anything.

  When they reached the side of the motel, the trees stopped. They’d have to walk out in the open now. Shelby peeked around Dylan’s large shoulders. As far as she could tell, nobody was out. Why would they be? Anyone with any sense was inside, not outside in the wet cold. Shelby shivered.

  “Are you ready?” Dylan asked, turning his head back toward her so she could hear him over the rain. “We’ll walk side by side to my truck. I don’t see anybody, but don’t dawdle.”

  Shelby nodded and Dylan took her hand and they began to walk through the parking lot and across the street. Compared to the cover of the trees, Shelby felt exposed out in the open. She kept her head tucked down and walked as quickly as possible, but the steps across the street seemed to take forever.

  When Dylan slowed down and curved Shelby into the crook of his arm, Shelby glanced up. She knew he wouldn’t choose now to turn this into a lover’s pose unless he had to.

  “What?” she asked him.

  “A car just turned onto the road up the block. A sedan.”

  “The same one?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to take any chances. I need to keep you out of sight and away from anything that might associate you with me.” Dylan turned them away from where his truck was parked. “Detour.”

  Shelby kept up as Dylan now rushed across the street toward the bank building rather than his vehicle. He didn’t stop until they were standing up against the wall of the bank, the opposite side from where the car was coming. Shelby clutched her balled-up change of clothes to her chest with one arm.

  “Okay, we’re going to work our way around to the back side of the building and see what that car is doing.”

  They stayed against the wall as they walked back. Dylan had yet to let go of Shelby’s hand. When they got to the back where they could glance out to see the road, Shelby stayed behind Dylan while he took a look.

  “I don’t see anybody. Maybe that car wasn’t even the same guy.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  Dylan nodded and let go of her hand. Everything seemed safe. Shelby wondered if this whole thing was just a case of overactive imaginations. Admittedly, it was unlikely that two cars similar in make and model would almost hit her twice in one day, but it wasn’t impossible.

  “Okay, I don’t see anyone,” Dylan told her again. “Let’s head to the truck.”

  Shelby nodded and they began walking, neither of them quite as worried about secrecy.

  Shelby felt Dylan stiffen a moment before she noticed the car again herself. It was pulling out of the parking lot directly adjacent to the bank, moving slowly, obviously looking for something or someone.

  Okay, maybe not overactive imaginations.

  Dylan grabbed Shelby’s hand again and pulled her forward, then put his other hand on her head to get her to stay low. They ran to his truck, keeping as low as possible. Dylan opened the passenger-side door and jumped in, sliding across the seat and reaching to help Shelby at the same time.

  “Hurry. Stay down.” Dylan’s voice was curt as he kept a watchful eye out the windshield while trying to stay out of sight himself. Shelby threw her clothes toward him, grabbed his hand and climbed. She pulled the door closed as quickly as she could, glad that no lights had come on in the cab. She ducked down low in the seat.

  “Is he still coming toward us?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think he saw us. It looks more like a sweep-through than anything. He’s past us now.”

  Shelby peeked up and saw the rear of the car as it drove slowly by. The person driving was looking for someplace. Or someone. But the car was moving on now.

  Dylan straightened up in his seat. “I think it’s safe now. But let’s get out of here before he comes back. Once he’s sure the street is clear, he’ll try to find you at your room.”

  “Okay.” Shelby sat up and reached to grab her clothes which had fallen all over the cab when she’d thrown them inside. She found her pants and shirt with no problem. But kept feeling around the darkened cab for her underwear.

  “Um, I think this is what you’re looking for.”

  Hanging from Dylan’s finger was Shelby’s black-and-red lace thong.

  Chapter Seven

  Dylan didn’t allow himself to dwell on that tiny scrap of lace during the drive to his house. He needed to stay focused and make sure no one was following them. Although he knew following them on the windy road that led from town to his house with no headlights would be nearly impossible.

  But that gave him too much time to thi
nk about red-and-black material, so he focused instead on being doubly sure no one followed.

  No one did.

  The storm still raged as they reached Dylan’s house fifteen minutes later. Although he normally wouldn’t park there, he pulled into the garage so they wouldn’t have to get wet again. Shelby was just beginning to stop shivering. She hadn’t said much of anything on the drive here. Once she’d snatched the thong off his finger, she’d kind of hunkered down over on the opposite side of the cab.

  About as far from Dylan as she could get.

  Dylan turned off the ignition and opened his door. He would’ve gone around to help Shelby, but she’d already made it out fine on her own. So he opened the door that led through a small mudroom before entering the main part of his house.

  Dylan’s house wasn’t too large. Three decent-size bedrooms, a living room with a large fireplace and a kitchen with an eat-in nook. Dylan had designed and built most of it himself, based on his own needs and preferences. It definitely had not been built with entertaining in mind. Hell, except for family, Dylan never entertained anybody at his house. Any meetings concerning his charter business were conducted at his office by the airfield a half mile away.

  Dylan wasn’t a sloppy person—his mother hadn’t allowed it growing up, neither had the army—but still he looked over his house with a critical eye. He’d never brought a woman here before, and for the first time had a moment’s doubt. What did his house look like to Shelby? Too sparse, too masculine, too rough around the edges? There definitely weren’t a tremendous amount of creature comforts here.

  Dylan wondered if Shelby would start complaining right off the bat, or if she’d be too polite to do so. She hadn’t seemed to hold back any of her opinions so far, so Dylan didn’t expect her to do so now. But when he turned to look at Shelby as she walked farther into the living room, she didn’t seem to be put off at all by his house.

  “This is a great space,” she told him, looking around. “Lots of windows. I’m sure that lets in great light during the day.”

  Dylan had to admit he was impressed. He didn’t think Shelby would notice the windows, his favorite feature, first. He thought she might notice the kitchen was small and rather rustic—Dylan wasn’t much of a cook—or that the television was pretty tiny in the living room and off to the side.

  “I like the feeling of trees around me. The windows help almost bring them indoors.” Dylan walked over and moved a book that lay open on the couch cushion and put it on the stack of books already on the end table. “Do you want to sit down? Or do you want to rest? As soon as this storm breaks we need to take off.”

  “How far is your airplane from here?”

  “Less than a mile. There is a stretch of flat area and I built a runway, not a big one, but big enough for my Cessna. The hangar and my office are up there, too.”

  Shelby was still clutching her bundle of clothes. “I guess I’ll rest. It’s getting pretty late. Can we take off in the dark?”

  “Yeah, dark is fine. Just not in the storm.” It was almost midnight now. Dylan estimated they’d be able to take off in about three hours.

  He led the way down the hall. “The guest room is right here.” He opened the door and turned on the light, then winced. He’d forgotten that he had piled his book collection on the guest bed until he could get around to building the new bookshelf he wanted.

  Shelby walked in and crossed to the bed. “Looks like my bed space is already taken up by Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour. Although I think I’m seeing a little C. S. Lewis in there, too. Pretty extensive collection.”

  “I’m sorry. Look, I can get this cleaned off in just a minute.” Dylan grabbed a stack of books and began moving them across the room, but Shelby touched his arm.

  “Dylan, it’s fine. Just leave them. If you’ve got a blanket and a pillow, I’ll just sleep out on that giant couch you have.”

  Dylan hesitated. Was that rude? He’d lived alone for too long. He didn’t want to deliberately alienate Shelby; he’d done enough of that already this evening.

  Shelby ended up answering the question for him. “Truly, it’s okay. We’ve only got a couple of hours. No point using a chunk of that cleaning off a bed. Just hand me a towel so I can take a shower, and dump a pillow and blanket on the couch.”

  She was right, it would take him twenty minutes to clean off this bed enough that someone could sleep on it. Maybe he should offer her his bed.

  No. Dylan had the feeling if he let Shelby sleep in his bed he’d never stop thinking about her there. “Okay, I’ll get you a towel. Sorry about this.”

  Dylan got her what she needed and showed her to the guest bathroom. He went in there before her to check the status of the tub. It was pretty dusty—the whole room was pretty dusty; Dylan didn’t get in there much—but it was relatively clean and usable.

  “I’ll leave a couple of blankets and pillows on the couch. Try to get a little rest. As soon as the storm breaks, we’ll head out.” Dylan closed the door behind him without looking at Shelby again.

  Dylan took the items Shelby would need to sleep and placed them on the couch, then walked into his bedroom. He needed to try to catch a little sleep himself. But he could hear the shower running in the guest bathroom.

  He definitely was not going to get any sleep thinking about Shelby, and her adorable freckles, in the shower. Or the never-to-be-mentioned black-and-red thong sliding onto her body afterward. Dylan needed a shower himself.

  A cold one.

  * * *

  SHELBY LAY ON the couch looking up at the high ceiling of Dylan’s house. Here, under blankets that weren’t hers, on a couch that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as her own bed, in a house she wasn’t familiar with, Shelby knew she should be freaking out.

  She did not do well out of her own house for very long. And although she had prepared herself to go to Washington, DC, Shelby had thought she would be staying with Megan. An old friend. A safe friend who understood Shelby’s need to be alone after a time in other people’s company.

  Instead, she was at the house of a man who constantly made her either want to slap him or kiss him. He was definitely not safe, the opposite, in fact. And yet she was here in his house, quite comfortable.

  Shelby wasn’t freaking out at all.

  As a matter of fact, she was a little freaked out that she wasn’t freaking out. She kept preparing a speech in her mind that she would use on herself when the panic came.

  But it didn’t come.

  Shelby wasn’t just under the blankets, she was snuggled under the blankets. And looking up at the tall rafters of Dylan’s ceiling, she found the space and the openness...calming.

  Shelby had been called a lot of things in her life, but calm was not one of them. She liked things to be the way she wanted them. Her house was exactly the way she liked it, everything had its place and Shelby knew where that place was. She’d lived in her downtown Knoxville condo, right smack in the heart of the city, with views of World’s Fair Park and the Sunsphere, for over eight years, and she loved it. In all that time, she’d never felt comfortable anywhere else. She liked the constant sound of traffic right outside her windows, and even the noise of neighbors in the building.

  So Shelby couldn’t quite figure out how she felt so comfortable lying here in the gentle peace of the mountains surrounding Dylan’s cabin. But she wouldn’t question it anymore. She’d just rest. She didn’t think she would be able to sleep. Resting was one thing, but sleeping would be something totally different. She didn’t sleep in strange houses. In fact, she hadn’t been able to get a full night of sleep outside of her own bed in years. But she could rest.

  The next thing Shelby knew, Dylan was gently shaking her shoulder to wake her up.

  “Hey, there’s a break in the storms. Time to head out.”

  Shelby opened her eyes t
o find Dylan crouched down beside her.

  “Okay, I’m not asleep, just resting.”

  Dylan snickered at that.

  “What?” Shelby demanded.

  “Well, for somebody just resting, you had the most adorable little snores coming out of you.” Dylan stood up and began walking into the kitchen.

  “I do not snore.” Wait, did she? It wasn’t as if there had been anyone around to let her know about her sleep-breathing patterns in a long time. But Shelby was pretty sure she didn’t snore. Plus, she hadn’t been sleeping. Shelby sat up on the couch. Had she been sleeping?

  No, because that would mean she had been comfortable enough to sleep at Dylan’s house. So, no, she hadn’t been sleeping.

  Shelby looked over to where Dylan was fixing coffee and breakfast in the kitchen. “What time is it?”

  “Almost four o’clock.”

  Over three hours since she’d lain down. She had been sleeping.

  “I do not snore,” Shelby muttered again under her breath as she got up and began folding the blankets she’d slept on. She didn’t want to think about sleeping or not sleeping.

  “Coffee?” Dylan asked from the kitchen. “And I have breakfast. Not much, though. Toast, cereal. And I have some yogurt.”

  “Coffee, please.” Shelby shuffled into the kitchen. Although she felt better after her...rest, she could still use some caffeine. She sipped it gratefully after Dylan poured her a mug.

  “As soon as you’re ready, we’ll head up to the airstrip. It looks like we have about a forty-five-minute window before the next storm set moves in.”

  “Okay.” Shelby nodded, sipping her coffee faster. “I’ll hurry.”

  “You can bring breakfast with you. I’ll need to do a quick preflight check on the plane, and you can eat in the hangar.”

  Dylan was all business, but was at least being pretty friendly. As friendly as a person could be when it was four o’clock in the morning and your day was already starting. Shelby finished her coffee and grabbed what she wanted for breakfast to take with her. She ran into the bathroom to comb out and braid her hair and brush her teeth with the toothbrush and comb that had survived the trip from the hotel. Dylan had given her a small bag, so she put last night’s clothes in there.