The Darkest Hour (Running with the Devil Book 1)

by Jasmin Quinn

  “Bianca,” Dean crooned at her. “I’m in love with you. You keep that room next to us vacant and when we check out, I’ll have three more bills for you.”

  Bianca smiled again. “Consider it done.”

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Dean said as he turned to leave. “We won’t need fresh towels or the bed made while we’re here. Keep the cleaning staff away.” He winked at her.

  As they left the lobby and returned to the SUV, Kelsie said, “She knows we’re up to something.”

  Dean saw the fear and vulnerability in her eyes and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “She thinks we’re cheating on our spouses.”

  “She thinks we’re what?” Kelsie felt embarrassment creep over her.

  “Better she thinks that.”

  “I guess so.” Kelsie reluctantly conceded.

  “I think so.” Dean responded as he maneuvered the SUV around to the back of the motel to room 160. There was a parking stall in front of the room, but there was also space on the side of the building just as Bianca said. He drove into it, putting the SUV in park and turning it off. “She’s helping us out so if by some remote chance the Russians did track us down, she wouldn’t be overly helpful to them.”

  “Doesn’t that put her in danger?”

  Dean looked over at Kelsie. She really was a sheltered little thing. “Contrary to what you might see on TV, gangs tend to kill each other more than anyone else. Yeah, they’re hostile and threatening, but they also don’t leave a trail of dead innocent people in their wake. All they’ll do if they think she’s conning them is intimidate her or pay her more money to give us up. Then she’ll tell them where we’re at and they can come fuck us up instead. “

  “Thanks,” Kelsie said dryly. “I feel much better now.”

  The room was not as bad as Kelsie had feared. A king-sized bed flanked by two night-tables was on the left-hand side of the door as they walked into the room. There was a loveseat opposite the bed on the right-hand wall. A coffee table in front of it, and a TV on a small dresser next to the loveseat. Further into the room, a kitchenette with a small dining table and two chairs was tucked into a corner while a closet and the bathroom were across from it.

  Kelsie looked over at Dean who was standing beside her. She could read the exhaustion on his face and knew it mirrored her own fatigue. She didn’t want food, she didn’t want drink, she didn’t want anything. She wanted to go bed and sleep. They both had their arms full – him with the suitcases and her with her laptop and purse. As they entered the room, he dropped the bags and locked the door behind him, turning the deadbolt and putting the chain on. He drew the curtains to the single window shut. Then he took one of the dining chairs and leaned it up under the door knob and jammed it in. “An extra precaution,” he told her. “It won’t keep anyone out for long, but it’ll give us a few minutes to get our shit together.”

  Kelsie dropped the laptop and her purse onto the table and sank down into the remaining dining room chair.

  Dean turned to her. “I need to sleep for a while, and so do you.”

  Kelsie nodded compliantly. It was only noon, but she was exhausted. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her since last night was slowly ebbing. She was feeling safe for the first time in 12 hours, even if she was still with the lunatic who was the reason for her fear. She was starting to understand that he wasn’t the enemy. “Should we check your dressing?” she asked.

  “No,” he grunted, “it’s fine.” He sat down on the side of the bed nearest the door and reached down to take off his shoes. Kelsie watched with apprehension. They were switching sides of the bed now, so that she was furthest from the door. An indication that he didn’t completely trust her. He looked at her with hooded eyes as he stood up, unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor onto his shoes. He undid his jeans, but didn’t take them off. He pulled back the bed covers and slid into the bed. He patted the other side of the bed. “Get comfortable,” he said gruffly.

  Kelsie thought a lot of things in that moment. First, she thought that Dean was going to tie her up again, but he had nothing in his hands, so maybe not; second, she thought that she had never met anyone so comfortable in his own skin and she envied him that; third, she thought she had never felt this level of attraction for a man before in her life; fourth, she thought, with a little panic, that they were going to be sharing that bed for at least three nights; finally, she thought that she was too tired to think anymore.

  She kicked off her shoes and made her way over to the bed where she crawled under the covers and rested her head on her pillow, her back to him, her body curled into a fetal position. The last thing she thought before she fell asleep was how nice it would be if he would just curl up with her and hold her for a while.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dean woke first. He lay still for a few minutes getting his bearings. The room was dark, so they’d slept several hours; he could hear Kelsie’s soft breathing beside him. If only they were a couple instead captor and captive. He could reach over and pull her to him, tuck her into his arms, kiss her awake first, then her body. He started to feel his groin tighten, his cock pushing against the denim of his jeans. “Better check those thoughts,” he muttered to himself as he threw back the covers and got out of bed. He didn’t try to be quiet as he made his way to the bathroom. Time for both of them to get up. He needed some food and then they needed to talk through their options and figure out what to do next.

  As he splashed his face with cold water, he thought about his situation. The room wasn’t bad. Better than most places he’d slept in. They had it for three days. Was that enough? It didn’t matter. They should be on the move anyway. Stay here long enough to find a way back to his apartment, get himself armed again, some alternate ID. Do a little thinking, a little healing, a little snooping to see if he could figure who the Russians had on the inside. Of course, the biggest problem was asleep in the other room. His organization didn’t like it when he got outsiders involved. They didn’t like loose ends. His thoughts were interrupted as heard movement in the bed. He wiped his face with a towel as he turned off the tap.

  When he came out of the bathroom, Kelsie was sitting up, blankets tucked around her waist, like a beautifully wrapped Christmas present. Sometime during her sleep, she had taken down her hair – it was disheveled with wild curls framing her face and winding down over her shoulders to fall on her breasts. Her eyes were still half-shut, and he caught her in a moment of stretching her arms up over her head. He stopped in his tracks staring at her in wonder. He needed her out of that bed now or he was going to crawl in with her. How the hell was he going to get through three nights of this?

  Dean turned his back to her as he walked around the bed and picked up his shirt. “How’re you feeling?” he asked neutrally as he shrugged the shirt on and buttoned it up. “We slept the day away.”

  Kelsie smiled lazily to his back. She’d felt his eyes on her, assessing her, considering her. It made her feel wanted in a way she hadn’t felt for… for maybe ever. She knew that it was a sexual tension between them, probably due to the stress of the circumstance. But maybe for once she shouldn’t care, shouldn’t overanalyze. Maybe for once she should let her heart rule her head. She didn’t have to fall in love, she could just enjoy the thrill of having his arms around her, his cock deep inside her…

  And then he spoiled it by turning to her and asking, “Gotta pee? I need to eat – breakfast is long gone, and I want to pick up some clothes and a hat to cover the fucking bruises on my face before the stores close for the night.”

  “Right,” Kelsie said between clenched teeth as she got up off the bed. Why did she think that this man was remotely attractive or interesting?

  They went clothes shopping first. He drove to a shopping mall in Richmond and they shopped at the Bay. Two pairs of jeans, boxer briefs, a couple of t-shirts, one short-sleeved, one long-sleeved, a dress shirt, a light jacket, a watch, a wallet, and a cap. Kelsie stayed close to him at his insi
stence. She didn’t help or comment. She’d never loved shopping; she liked nice clothes but not the whole onerous process of buying them. So, she tried to be patient as she stood and watched Dean as he outfitted himself.

  “Need anything?” he asked her as he paid for the purchases without trying anything on.

  “Just food,” He nodded his agreement.

  They drove to a little diner, about ½ way between the mall and the motel. A few cars in the lot, a couple of tables with people. The diner itself was dimly lit, and a country tune was playing in the background – it was like they walked into the middle of an 80’s movie. Dean, holding Kelsie’s hand, didn’t hesitate. He had the instincts of a predator, she thought, as he led her to a booth near the back. He sat in the seat that faced the front, so he had a good view of the door.

  A young, bored-looking waitress brought them menus and water. “What’re you drinking?”

  “Water’s fine,” Kelsie said as Dean ordered coffee.

  They sat without talking, almost awkwardly, until the waitress returned with Dean’s coffee and took their orders. Kelsie ordered a burger and fries; she didn’t often eat crap food, but she reasoned that until she knew she wasn’t going to die sometime soon she was going to eat whatever the hell she wanted. And she was practically starving. Dean had a steak sandwich, rare, fries and the soup-of-the-day.

  When they were alone, Dean said, “I want to know some things about you, Kelsie.”

  “Like what?” Kelsie narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

  “Like why your phone hasn’t rung all day. It’s Saturday and no one’s calling you? No boyfriend, girlfriend, mom or dad? Like why your house looks like it’s been decorated by a stranger? Why you had expensive jewelry sitting in a box on a shelf in your office next to your safe, not in it; and why you were so quick to just let both rings go.”

  Kelsie took a breath and looked at Dean considering. “Okay, then you have to answer some of my questions.”

  “Such as?” Dean leaned his arms on the table towards her. He was suddenly highly interested in what she wanted to know about him.

  “Such as, how long you were undercover in this job; what’s your real name, what’s your real life like; how you claim to speak fluent Russian…”

  “I don’t claim to speak fluent Russian, I do speak it,” he interrupted in what she could only assume was Russian.

  “What?” she said, irritated.

  “I said, answer my questions first.”

  Kelsie sat for a moment thinking about what she would say this man. It occurred to her that his opinion of her mattered and she didn’t want him to think of her as spoiled and entitled. Which is what she thought of herself sometimes, at least until she walked away from everything a couple of years ago.

  “My dad was a lawyer, then a judge. Well-known and respected, and, you know… rich. From his job and there’s some family money too, I guess. He sort of retired a few years ago, does consulting now, some lawyering for big-name clients.”

  “Who’s your dad?” Dean interrupted her.

  “Randall Scott.”

  Dean shrugged. Name didn’t ring a bell. “And your mom?”

  Kelsie frowned. She had her fork in her hand as she spoke, twisting it nervously. “My mom took off when I was 8. Her name was… is Gina. Mom was the perfect little wife by all accounts. Perfect make-up, perfect figure, perfect speech, perfect hostess. She met dad while they were both in university. He was in law school; when they graduated, they got married. Mom never used her degree for anything.” This last bit of information was irrelevant, but for some reason, it bothered Kelsie almost as much as her mother abandoning her.

  “They had two children, my brother, Owen first, and then me, two years later. The perfect little family. Until mom took off. Mom was not exactly the nurturing kind I guess. But still…” Kelsey took a sip of her water, wishing it was something a whole lot stronger. Dean was watching her impassively, not speaking. “Dad was not a happy man after mom left. Actually, he wasn’t that happy when she was there. But after she left, he became a bit of a tyrant.”

  Dean grunted and took a drink of his coffee. “Dad’s are like that.”

  Kelsie looked at him speculatively. “Your dad?”

  “We’re talking about you, not me.”

  “Right,” Kelsie replied cynically. “Anyway, as we grew up, dad had some pretty high expectations of us. I understood the importance of maintaining the family façade way better than Owen, who got into all sorts of trouble in his teens. And dad was always using his connections to bail him out of trouble. Owen was his favourite. The oldest boy, the prodigal son. And he totally took advantage of it. He could get away with a whole lot more than I could. The harder I tried to be perfect, the less perfect I was in dad’s eyes. Perfect marks, perfect athlete, perfect everything. I could never do enough. I even went to law school, not because it’s a driving passion of mine, but to maintain the family tradition.”

  Dean watched as her face flushed. “You’re embarrassed.”

  “You know the problem with the privileged, is that they don’t really know how privileged they are.”

  “Poor you,” Dean said without empathy.

  “See. Nobody ever feels sorry for the rich kids.”

  “I’ll try to pity you more. Keep going – all you’ve told me so far is that you had a shitty childhood because mommy and daddy gave you everything but their attention, then mommy ran off and joined the circus. What happened to the brother?”

  “Owen?” Kelsie shrugged. “He’s somewhere around – in Vancouver. Shows up when he needs money or bailing out. He never sticks around long – sometimes overnight. I don’t really know what he does, but I doubt it’s anything you would approve of it.”

  Dean’s lips quirked. “Probably not. Is he into drugs?”

  Kelsie shrugged. “I truly don’t know what he’s into.”

  Kelsie reached for her water glass and lifted it to her lips. Dean waited patiently for her to continue.

  She set the glass down and picked up her fork again. “As I was entering my articling year, my dad introduced me to this lawyer, Keith Sheppard. Keith is a partner in a highly respected law firm. Finnerty and Associates?”

  Dean shook his head and shrugged. “Never heard of them.” Corporate lawyers. Nothing to do with him.

  “Keith took me on as his assistant, which led to girlfriend, then fiancé. Hence the expensive engagement ring in the box on my office.”

  “Guessing you didn’t tie the knot.” Dean took a sip of his coffee.

  “No.” Her face clouded. “My father loved Keith. He’s smart, good looking, ambitious, funny, a perfect replacement for Owen. What’s not to love? It was going to be the wedding of the decade. Keith’s mom was planning it; dad was paying for it, everyone was invited.”

  “I wasn’t,” Dean tossed out.

  Kelsie looked at him with a wry smile. “That’s because Keith doesn’t have friends in low places.”

  Dean laughed appreciatively. Nice to know she could dish it out.

  Kelsie continued. “Keith bought this huge estate in the same neighbourhood as my dad’s. Lots of bedrooms for kids, he said. I moved in with him about six months before the wedding. My articling year was up, and I passed the bar exam, so I could have been a practicing lawyer. Of course, me working was a non-starter. Everyone over-ruled me and to be honest, it didn’t really matter to me.

  A couple of weeks before the wedding, after all the showers and parties and stuff, I went to the doctor for a thorough check-up. Keith’s mom insisted. I needed to be healthy, so that her grandchildren would be healthy and happy.” Kelsie rolled her eyes. “You know that didn’t go well. Turns out I couldn’t – can’t,” she amended, “have children.”

  She laughed bitterly. “It was a maybe. Lots of medical options to help, but Keith wasn’t willing to take the risk. First, he suggested we postpone the wedding while the doctor did more tests. Then a few weeks later, he called off the engagement.”
/>   “What I’m wondering,” Dean interjected, “is when you grew your backbone?”

  Kelsie glowered at him, her eyes flashing. “You know, you could really stand to take a sensitivity training course.”

  Dean ignored the jibe. “Obviously he let you keep the ring.”

  “Yes, that was pretty much all I got to keep. Dad was beside himself. He blamed me, not that shallow, self-involved asshole. But still, he understood that I needed to move out of Keith’s home, so he offered to let me move back in with him.” She glared across the table at Dean. “That’s when I grew my fucking backbone.” He grinned at her as the food arrived. They spent a few moments in silence as they salted their food, added ketchup to fries, and took a few bites.

  “Keep going,” Dean said as he swallowed down a bite of steak.

  “I got a realtor, told her the general area I wanted to live, what I wanted – you know two bedrooms, two bathrooms, some sort of deck etc. A house or condo, I didn’t care which, but it needed to be empty, so I could move in as soon the deal closed. I told Keith that he was a shitty excuse for a human being and that I would help him assuage his guilt by letting him pay for my house. Then he could have his estate and his life, and I would disappear.”

  “Good for you,” Dean said through a mouthful of coleslaw.

  “I moved into the house as soon as I could; bought what I needed for furniture. Found my job as a clerk for a judge. It pays the bills.”

  “Used your father’s connections? Malcolm Westwick is a pretty powerful guy in these parts.”

  Kelsie scowled at him. “How do you know who I work for?” She took a bite of her burger and chewed. When Dean didn’t respond, she said, “So what? At least I went to the judge directly and didn’t get my father to intervene.”