by L. L. Muir
Footsteps rumbled down the hall on the other side of the wall and Macey’s mind flashed back to the day it all started. When her bathroom wall had vibrated, she’d thought it was from the kids jumping around on the stairs outside, but it had been Lacrosse’s men headed for Shawn’s apartment. And though they were expecting Dave’s guys to show up, she couldn’t shake the dread in her stomach, even if it was just part of her memory.
The lock snicked.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” she hissed.
Shawn nodded and mouthed, Me too. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun.
The rattling they heard had to be a gurney. Someone told the manager to wait in the hall and that they’d have Mr. Nalder’s family come collect his things from the room. The door closed again. After a few footfalls, the bathroom door opened slightly.
“Parker? We’ve got the patient. Dave said to tell you Lacrosse has finished with the Tower and is headed to this building. Others will be here two minutes after we get on the elevator. Got it?”
“Got it.” Shawn squeezed her hand. “Listen to me. Neither one of us is going to be surprised when this goes south, right?”
“If it goes south.”
Voices murmured out in the room, but she couldn’t understand them.
Shawn shook his head. “When. So this is the plan. You do whatever it takes to keep your backpack with you. I added tracker dots to all of them after what happened in Coeur d’Alene. Cling to it as if it still had the duck inside it. No matter what happens, got it? I’ll find you. If they tell you I’m dead, don’t believe them.”
“You don’t trust Dave.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Then I won’t trust him either.”
“That’s my girl.” He leaned forward. The squeak of the tub was drowned out by the noisy clattering of the gurney headed for the door. Cupping Macey’s head with his empty hand, he pulled her forward and gave her a desperate, fierce kiss that left them both gasping.
A good-bye kiss, she was sure of it.
“Thanks for the date,” she whispered while she pressed her forehead to his. “I had a lovely time.”
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.
Though the hotel room was empty and the door closed, they stayed put, breathing each other’s air, crowding each other’s space.
“How long would we have kept it up?” he asked.
“Kept what up?”
“How long would we have dated before you let me…watch you sleep?”
Heat cascaded through her from head to toe. She knew exactly what he meant.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a traditional kind of gal.”
“Then how long, do you think, before you would have married me?”
He’s just playing around. It’s just a silly conversation. Nothing to get excited about.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head against his. “A week at least.”
“Ha!” He straightened away from her slowly, his hand released her head at last, but his finger dropped to her breast bone and held. “That’s my girl.”
He left her in the bathroom so she could pee, which she did quickly, knowing someone would be coming to collect them any second. After he helped her get her backpack secured, he used the bathroom too. It had been an eventful morning for both of them.
She stood at the door and watched out the peep hole. The Beanie Boys neared. One looked back and nudged his friend, and the two of them continued past the door. She was tempted to open it and hail them inside, but she hesitated. Maybe something had scared them off. Maybe Lacrosse was already there!
The toilet flushed and Shawn came out of the bathroom and washed his hands. When the water shut off, she waved to get his attention and pressed a finger to her lips, then whispered what she’d seen.
He pulled his gun and braced himself against the edge of the wall, the barrel pointed at the hook latch. She looked through the hole again. Doors opened. Feet pounded. Men shouted, all beyond the range of the peep hole.
“Next!” a man shouted, and four men in SWAT uniforms shuffled to the door across the hall, two on each side. A man in a suit and tie stepped up to the door and slipped a card in and out of the lock. He turned the handle, then jumped back as the officers poured into the room.
In a whisper, she told Shawn what was happening.
“Get back,” he hissed. “Get on the floor on the far side of the beds. Put your hands behind your head. Whatever you do, don’t resist. Go. Now.”
She backed away, but she couldn’t just run and leave him to face four armed men. He might shoot one, but the other three would shoot him to bits!
“Wait!” she whispered. “Put the gun to my head. Use me as a hostage. That will at least buy a minute or two until they realize we’re together, right?”
He shook his head quickly.
“Bullshit.” She stepped in front of him and turned her back. “Do it, damn it!”
She heard him suck air between his teeth just before his arm came around her middle. He pulled her against him and stepped backward into the room. They were six or seven feet from the door.
“Next!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Macey held her breath. Shawn’s arm tightened. They might die in the next minute, but at least they were together. A silly, romantic thought, but it was the only thing that kept her from freaking out and embarrassing them both.
“Not this one,” a man said. “An old man was in here. The paramedics just took him away a few minutes ago. There was no one else in the room.”
“You are certain?” It sounded like Lacrosse himself!
“I was just in there. I was still here when they left.”
“Very well. Next!”
Shawn’s grip remained. He had to be as shocked as she was. Lacrosse had just been at their door—seven feet away—and the man had moved on!
She gasped. “Couldn’t you just kiss Dave right now?” It was difficult to breathe with Shawn holding her tight and adrenaline filling every cell of her body.
Shawn removed his arm, then turned her. “I’d rather kiss you,” he grumbled and pulled her roughly against him. But instead of bending to reach her lips, he lifted her up to meet his. She caught the flash of his smile before their lips met, and she supposed he was enjoying a little adrenaline rush of his own. After a long, luxurious kiss, he lowered her to the floor again and they exchanged a wide smile understood only by the recently reprieved.
They moved to the door and listened to the routine repeating its way down the hall. Lacrosse’s shout of “Next!” eventually stopped altogether.
“I wonder if Dave’s friends will be back.”
Knuckles rapped on the door three times, scaring the crap out of them both. Shawn looked through the peep hole, then frowned at her.
“What?” she whispered.
“I know one of them.”
Her stomach sank with the weight of pure dread. If Shawn knew the guy, it could mean one of two things. Either he was a former man of Lacrosse, like Dave and Shawn, or he was a current one.
The knock came again, only softer.
She shrugged, leaving the decision up to Shawn.
“If we want to see Dorothy Jean again, we have little choice,” he whispered.
She nodded and stood back. He opened the door and let the two men inside.
The tall one, who had first been following her to the park, nodded at Shawn. “Parker.”
“Kofford.”
The guy’s gaze passed over her like she was just another piece of furniture in the room. “I can’t believe you’re still here.” He bent his head back. “You couldn’t have hidden in the ceiling. So how did Lacrosse not see you? They’ve moved up to the fourth floor, by the way. Still searching.”
Shawn explained what had happened.
Kofford laughed. “You’ve got some dumb luck, man.”
“Yeah, I know. Can we get on with this, or what?”
Shawn hadn’t looked her w
ay since the Beanie Boys had arrived. She figured he didn’t want them to know he gave a crap whether she lived or died, so she folded her arms to keep from accidentally reaching out for him if she got nervous.
Kofford nodded, then exchanged a look with the other guy—a look she didn’t care for.
“Lacrosse has men at every exit,” the second man said. “We’re going to split you two up, but just to get out of the building. There is no way they’d let both of you walk past them. Oh.” He reached into his pocket and Shawn tensed. “Here’s a nose for you. And some contacts. Kofford will wait while you get them on. I’ll take the lady now.”
Her head started shaking on its own. “No.”
Shawn closed his eyes for a second, then nodded his head. “Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then went to the vanity mirror and started unwrapping the little package the guy had given him. “Next time you see me,” he said, “you won’t even recognize me. So be warned.” His reflection gave her a meaningful look, but she had no idea what that actual meaning was.
“Yeah. Okay.” She could think of nothing intelligent to say. “See ya.”
“See ya.” He turned his attention to the nose.
Kofford sat on the bed with a bounce. The other guy took hold of her upper arm and opened the door.
She pulled out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” she said.
“Fine. But if we’re holding hands, they’ll look less seriously at you.”
She huffed out a breath and grabbed his hand.
He rolled his eyes and looked down the hallway in both directions before leading her to the left. When the door closed behind her, she felt like a lifeline had just been cut, and she was left to trust some short dude with a five o’clock shadow that only grew in patches, even though he had to be thirty years old.
They took the elevator. It was empty.
“I wish I had some sunglasses,” she said aloud.
Patchy shook his head. “No, you don’t. They make anyone look suspicious.”
She really didn’t want to admit he was right, so she tried not to speak to him at all.
After they passed the mezzanine level, he nudged her. “We’re going to walk straight out the front door like we’ve got somewhere to go, but all day to get there.”
The doors opened. Her heart jumped when one of Lacrosse’s goons, whom she recognized from her own apartment, stood there with a phone to his ear. She couldn’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses.
Patchy gave her a smirk, then pulled her forward.
“Pardon us, mate,” he said, stepping around the goon and guiding her along behind him.
The goon turned to look at her and smiled. She sucked her top lip into her mouth, hoping it distorted her face enough to make him doubt. Then she realized he was watching Patchy and not her. The Aussie accent must have amused him.
She hoped, when he closed his eyes that night, he’d see her face and realize what he’d done. But hopefully, not until then.
She followed Patchy like an obedient dog but only because it would draw attention to them if she recoiled from him like she wanted to. His all-day-to-get-there plan seemed to be working. Few faces turned their way as they made it past the grand fountain and ever closer to the exit. Her imagination got a little carried away with movie scenes where a character was released from prison just to be shot outside the gates. And she realized the gross, cold slick of sweat between hers and Patchy’s hands was probably coming from her.
The doorman stood before the revolving door and pointed his arm to the right. “Sorry, folks. This one’s out of order at the moment. You can exit right over there, if you will.”
Patchy steered her toward a single door where another of Lacrosse’s goons stood in a long black coat holding several pages in his hands. She sucked in her top lip again and pulled hard on it. She could see the tip of her nose lower, and held it that way.
The goon looked at Patchy first, then consulted two of his papers. He then narrowed his eyes at Macey. She narrowed hers back. He glanced at his last page, then waved them past.
She didn’t let go of her lip until they’d crossed the street. Her mouth ached like she’d been punched in the mouth, but she was pretty sure she’d just saved her own butt with the little trick.
They walked half a block, then turned into the gap that led to the parking lot for Hotel Lusso. The same black van with tinted windows waited for them, the side door open wide.
She pulled her hand from Patchy’s grip. “Wow. I guess tinted windows are about as inconspicuous as sunglasses.”
He snorted and tried to put his hand on her back, probably so he could keep steering her around. But she stepped to the side and stopped.
“Look, dude. You are going to have to stop touching me. It’s not like I’m here against my will, okay? So just back off.”
“Better put your hands in your pockets, Gammon.” Dave emerged from the far side of the van. “Unless you want to lose a finger or two.”
Macey smiled, relieved to see a friendly, familiar face, even if it belonged to a guy she couldn’t quite trust.
She held up her hand and wrinkled her nose. “He made me hold his hand.” She wiggled the offended fingers like they might never work correctly again. Since Dave was always gung ho to save people, she figured playing the wounded bird would raise his defenses on her behalf.
He stepped up to her and examined the fingers, along with her pouting lower lip. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
“I don’t like your friends,” she whispered.
“I know. But they’re…useful. And right now, I need useful.”
She nodded and didn’t bother pulling her hand from his. “Are they out yet?”
“Who?”
She tapped her ear, then pointed to his where the earpiece had been. “Shawn and the other guy. Are they out yet?”
“Ah, no. Not yet.” He pretended to think. “How about we get you to Dorothy, so the two of you can wait for him together?”
“How about we don't?” She smiled and waited for his next trick. The moment she'd left Shawn behind, she'd stopped expecting to see him again. She'd anticipated the sound of gunshots before she and Patchy ever reached the elevator. And she had every reason to expect either the goon of the two goons they passed would have grabbed her. It was an actual miracle they hadn’t.
But there she was, chatting with Dave, still reasonably free. Everything now was just a bonus. But it was always hard to know what to do with extra time. Like an extra day on vacation when you've already seen all the sights and there's nothing much left to do but eat and wait for time to pass.
But she could still pester Dave. Make it hard for him to harm her, but make it hell on him for leaving Shawn to Lacrosse, which she was pretty sure he had. It was a wonder, really, that he even cared to get her out of the hotel. He had Dorothy Jean, the golden goose. What did he really need her for?
Then she had it.
To hurt Shawn. He knew she meant something to him. He wanted them apart. Not out of jealousy. Just a guy thing. A competition. And Dave had fixed the game. He'd outnumbered his old friend and stolen something he valued.
Which made her even more determined to make him wish he hadn't.
Of course she'd go along with him, eventually, in order to get to Dorothy Jean and protect her as best she could. But first…
He closed one eye against the brightness of the sun and glanced at the waiting vehicle. “Would you care to sit in the van, babe? We may be waiting a while.”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I'm fine. Too much sitting around the hotel already, you know?” She looked around the parking lot. “In fact, I think I'll stretch my legs a little while we wait.”
With her backpack still secured behind her, she jogged back to the street, knowing it was probably giving Dave a heart attack to watch her. When she hit the sidewalk, she turned, ran across the opening, then back into the parking lot to jog around the perimeter.
>
He watched every step, as did Patchy, or Gammon, or whatever his name was. She imagined there was probably another Beanie Boy in the van watching her too.
The black wig bounced on her head and slipped loose. She reached up and yanked it off without missing a step. But she wasn't stupid enough to go all the way to the street with her own light hair either, not with the whole city looking for the hundred thousand dollars on her head, so she cut straight across the driveway the second time around. She could almost hear Dave and the Boys sigh with relief.
It was a pathetically small parking lot, and she’d been tragically out of shape before Hot Neighbor ever blew threw her wall. Two full circuits around and she was winded. But with all those eyes on her, she wasn't about to give up already. So she pushed herself by trying to imagine Lacrosse was right behind her. On the straight-aways, she ran as fast as she could. She had to watch her step as she came up on the driveway again, so she didn't accidentally dash out in front of a car, though. She peeked around the edge of the building...
And screamed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
She blamed her response on the fact that she'd been imagining Lacrosse chasing her. But the arms that reached out and grabbed her weren't Lacrosse's. And if it weren’t for a familiar strap across his shoulder, she might never have believed it was Shawn who grabbed her.
She sounded like an idiot, unable to stop screaming even after she realized who he was.
“What's wrong?” he demanded. “What's happened?”
She had to back away from him and bend over to catch her breath. And then she lost it again, laughing like a hyena.
“Macey, look at me. What's going on?”
Dave joined them. “Looks like you gave her a scare.”
She stood up, sensing the parking lot filling with testosterone. The Beanie Boys gathered around them. Obviously they'd sensed it too and didn't want to miss the ego battle brewing on the asphalt.
“I was... I was jogging around the parking lot while we were waiting for you. You just scared me, that's all.”
