Trust No One

by Velvet Vaughn

He chatted easily with a person she couldn’t see behind the counter, his gaze never in one place too long. She realized how safe she felt with him. He was hyper-alert, always aware of his surroundings. She’d watched his hand unconsciously stray to his shoulder a few times and wondered if that was the injury that put him out of commission. Even hurting, she was sure he wouldn’t let the bad guys get to her.

  Once he’d secured a room, he walked around to her side of the cab and opened the door. Easing his gun from her hands, he said, "Grab what you need for tonight and put it in here." He unzipped his much smaller duffle. She selected a change of clothes and her bag of toiletries. He zipped the bag and hefted it on his shoulder. "We're right down here, unit 10."

  Kendall’s eyes widened in alarm. "We’re sharing a room?"

  He shot her a "well duh" look. "I can’t protect you with a wall between us."

  Well, there was that.

  It wasn't that she was afraid to share a room with him, it was that she liked the idea a little too much. Now wasn't the time for her hormones to kick in. She wasn't even sure she liked the man, even if he was turning out to be much different than her first impression. She’d always been a sucker for a man who treated his mother like a queen. He would probably be the same with a wife.

  Dorian unlocked the door and she stepped inside. The room was small and outdated, but appeared relatively clean. He deposited the bags on a dresser next to a twenty-inch television that looked like it could use rabbit ears for reception and then handed her his gun again.

  "If anyone tries to get in the door, don't be afraid to pull the trigger."

  She grabbed his arm. "Wait—where are you going?" She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. She wasn't crazy about sharing a room with him but she certainly didn't want him to leave it.

  "I’m going to park the truck down the street. I’ll be gone ten minutes max."

  Kendall’s heart pounded. She could handle this…she could take care of herself. She was a strong, independent woman. "Hurry back," she blurted out as the door closed behind him.

  She listened as the engine roared to life and then grew faint. She perched on the bed but was too wired to sit. Jumping to her feet, she checked her watch. Thirty seconds. Dorian had only been gone half a minute. Pacing the room, she started to unpack when a thought struck. If her mother saw the news and learned of the murders, she would be terrified, or worse if Kendall’s face was plastered across the airwaves as a suspect. She didn't want her mother upset.

  Though she desperately wanted her mom here with her, she couldn't put her in any kind of danger. She needed to call and let her know not to worry, that Kendall was safe and she would explain everything soon. It was too early to wake her up since, knowing her mother, she would never be able to go back to sleep. Kendall decided on a brief, upbeat message on her machine at work with the promise that she would call back later. She checked the battery after she disconnected. Two bars left. She made a mental note to charge her own cell and switched the phone off to save what little power remained.

  She checked her watch again. Four minutes. Was time passing backwards? She paced the room and then stilled when footsteps sounded outside the door. Forcing a calm she didn’t feel, she braced her legs apart, concentrated on breathing deeply from her diaphragm, lifted the Glock and sighted it, picturing a paper target thirty feet away. Her aim had improved significantly from the first time she fired a weapon. She could use it if she had to, to save her life.

  #

  Dorian parked the Avalanche in the lot of an all-night country-western bar down the street. Though the area looked rough, he wasn’t worried. All COBRA vehicles were equipped with state-of-the-art anti-theft security systems. This baby was as impenetrable as Fort Knox.

  Rummaging around in the lock box in the back, he withdrew an Illinois license plate and quickly switched it with his Indiana one. Then he attached a few magnetized stickers to the bumper to further disguise the vehicle. The killers had no doubt memorized the plate number during the earlier chase, but he wasn't worried about them tracing either license plate. They would never be able to associate it with him.

  With a quick sweep of the area, he jogged back to the motel. He hated leaving Kendall alone, even for a few seconds. So far, the bad guys had been able to hone in on her location like a heat-seeking missile. He had no intention of letting them get to her again.

  He approached the motel from the back, checking the escape route. Each unit featured a tiny window at the back of the room, which was the reason why he picked this particular motel. He'd driven around until he found one that offered an alternate exit. The window was small, and it would be a squeeze, but he could get through it if needed.

  He canvassed the entire area as he rounded the building. Satisfied no one was watching, he approached the room and rapped on the door. "It’s Dorian," he announced.

  A breeze ruffled his hair as the door whipped open. The smile of relief on Kendall’s face punched him squarely in the gut. She was happy to see him. It shouldn’t have made him feel good but dammit, it did. But after her ordeal, she certainly didn't need him drooling all over her. Pissed at himself, he scowled and grabbed his gun from her hand, jamming it in the waistband of his jeans while he closed the door.

  She looked nervous and vulnerable and again he fought the urge to soften towards her. He needed to keep his distance if he wanted to keep her safe. And hadn’t he learned that lesson the hard way? Dumbass. "Grab your things," he ordered.

  Her brows rose in alarmed confusion. "What…why?"

  "Just do it," he barked, pulling a long metal pick from his bag. He padded to the door that connected to the next room and made quick work of the lock.

  "What are you doing?" she hissed. "What if someone's in there?"

  "I specifically requested a room with no one on either side." With a wicked smirk, he added, "I told the guy you were a screamer."

  Her eyes widened a fraction but she didn't miss a beat. "Been talking to my old boyfriends, have you?" she said, straight-faced.

  That one phrase completely turned the tables on him, freezing him in place. She sauntered past him into the adjoining room. He could do nothing but stare at the sway of her trim hips. He didn’t know if she was serious or not but his teasing backfired. Now he was picturing her under him, soft and eager, and definitely screaming.

  Chapter Five

  "I take it you didn’t pay for both rooms?"

  Kendall’s question broke the silence that had fallen over the dim room, made even darker when he jerked the curtains closed. From his vantage point in a chair by the window, he could just make out her small form on the bed, tucked under the covers. "Kinda defeats the purpose of hiding out in here if I tell people about it," he pointed out. "Besides, I paid for one room, we're only using one room. Nothing underhanded there. Now get some sleep. I want to get an early start."

  She offered to let him sleep in the bed next to her. "We’re both adults, Demarchis," she'd said. "Believe me, I can keep my hands to myself." That hadn’t been enough, she had to tack on, "And I promise I won’t scream."

  He didn’t even have a response to that. He just stalked over to the chair and plopped down. It took her forever to fall asleep and he didn’t allow himself to relax until he heard the deep, even cadence of her breathing. He adjusted in the chair. The damn thing was hard and uncomfortable but he'd slept in worse places. During the third week of BUD/S, Hell Week, he'd slept four hours total.

  He lightly pushed the curtain aside and checked the perimeter of the building. All clear. He'd returned to their original room and wiped down every surface they touched so there were no traceable fingerprints and did the same to this room. Then he secured the outer door and shoved a heavy dresser in front of the connecting one before settling in for the night. He'd also unlocked the back window and made sure it opened easily.

  Dorian’s eyes snapped open, something having awakened him from a light doze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. With on
e finger, he eased the curtain aside in time to see a dark sedan pull up sideways to the motel in the nearly empty lot. He sprung upright, instantly alert. When the darkened passenger window lowered and an automatic rifle barrel emerged, he lunged for Kendall. He scooped her out of bed, his hand muting the startled scream. "Shh," he commanded, as he carried her to the bathroom and deposited her in the tub. Her eyes were wide, but she did as he instructed. "Stay down." Gunfire exploded and he ducked. No telling where stray shots would land.

  The gunfire lasted for ten seconds before tires squealed. He had no doubt if Kendall had been in that bed in the room next door, she would have been human Swiss cheese. Very dead human Swiss cheese.

  When he was sure the shooters were gone, he said, "Let’s go." Her eyes widened in horror as realization struck. The bullets were meant for her. Shoving the back window open, he tossed the bag out first and then helped her before twisting his large frame through the opening. They both wore their clothes and shoes to bed in case they needed to escape quickly.

  Scooping up the duffel, he grabbed her hand and took off down the small hill behind the motel. He pulled her down behind a bush as an unmarked police car with a flashing light strapped to the roof sped by and squealed into the parking lot.

  "My guess is that if a cop is in on it, that’s him wanting to get to the scene and make sure your bullet-ridden corpse is found, along with whatever it is they want from you."

  He felt her whole body shudder. When the coast was clear, he stealthily guided her to the truck.

  #

  Kendall wished she could wake up from this nightmare. She finally managed to doze off, only to be startled awake by two strong arms toting her out of bed, chased by a hail of gunfire.

  "How are they finding you?" Dorian muttered, more to himself than to her. "They did not follow us to that motel. I’d stake my life on it." He frowned at her. "That cop couldn’t have put a tracking device on you…you’ve changed since then. You got out of that room with only the clothes on your back?"

  "Yes…oh, sugar." Reaching into her pocket, she held out her hand.

  Dorian glanced at the item and then back to the road. "That’s how they are doing it," he agreed grimly. "The phone belongs to your friend, the nervous one?"

  "Stefani," she supplied. Why hadn’t she thought about the phone earlier? Of course it would have GPS. She knew that. She'd done a story on a purse snatcher who swiped an eighty-three year old woman’s handbag and then used her cell to brag to his buddies. The woman’s entire life savings had been inside and she’d been devastated. The cops tracked him easily through the phone and recovered her money.

  Kendall hoped her story had an ending half as positive.

  "If they're tracking you, then they either think you can identify them, or you have something they want."

  "What would I have that they would be after?"

  He nodded to her hand. "How about that?"

  She ran a finger over the silver case almost reverently. After a moment, she said, "It saved my life. I was reaching for it when the gunmen opened fire in the hotel room." Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the headrest. At least now she knew how the men found her at Dorian’s apartment and then again at the motel. It was a marginal relief since she'd been positive no one followed her after her escape from the killer cop’s clutches. But they found her anyway.

  "Has it been on the entire time?" Dorian asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  She rotated her head to look at him. His profile was strong in the early morning light. Solid. Trustworthy. "No, I turned it off periodically to save the battery. But while you moved the truck, I called and left a message for my mother to let her know I was safe." At the moment. "I haven’t turned it on since."

  God, what a mess. They'd been driving around aimlessly for the last half hour but now that they figured out it was the phone, he seemed to have come up with a plan. They were currently travelling on the Stevenson Expressway but he signaled and took the exit for Midway Airport. He parked at the curb next to the passenger drop-off area and killed the engine.

  "Are you putting me on the first plane out of here?" she asked ruefully.

  #

  "Tempting, but no," Dorian replied sardonically. Pulling out his own cell, he dialed Peter Dennis. He hated like hell to wake him this early, especially with his wife April pregnant, but he needed Peter’s expertise. When Pete answered with a groggy, "Hello", Dorian apologized profusely and told him what he needed. As expected, Peter was instantly alert. He could hear Peter whisper something softly to his wife as he climbed out of bed and headed for his high-tech home office.

  Putting a palm over the phone, he explained to Kendall, "This guy is a tech genius."

  When Peter came back on the line, Dorian explained the situation and what he needed. He followed Peter’s instructions, reaching into the back seat for his laptop and powering it on. He attached it to the console specifically built for the purpose. Without taking his eyes from the screen as he tapped keys, he asked Kendall, "Can you grab the flashlight from the glove box?" She flipped the compartment open and rooted around until she came up with the item and turned to him expectantly. He listened then repeated Peter’s instructions. "Take the battery cover off the phone."

  She slid the panel off until the battery was exposed. "Pull it out and flash the light inside." She did. "Do you see the word SIM and a long sequence of numbers?" At her confirmation, he instructed her to read the numbers to him and he fed them to Peter. A pause. "Slide the battery back in place and close the compartment." She did and then he told her to turn the phone on. A message appeared on Dorian’s computer that he'd received a file. He opened it to make sure it contained the data. "Now, can you work your magic, Pete?" After a short pause, he asked Kendall to run through the menu and read off any phone numbers she came across.

  "It’s completely blank. No incoming or outgoing numbers, no address book."

  "Perfect. Pete, you are the man. Sorry again about waking you. Give April my best." He hung up and saved the file on the computer. Then he made sure the computer was locked in place before he closed the lid.

  "Should I turn this off?" Kendall asked.

  "Yeah, and hold on to it." Starting the engine, he left the airport and drove a few blocks to a rail yard. A light haze curled and drifted around the area, glowing like ghostly macabre fingers in the streetlights. Abandoned train cars scattered around the area, rising from the early morning fog like metal gravestones. Most were tagged with elaborate gang symbols and surprisingly intricate artwork. He parked the truck and indicated for Kendall to bring the phone and follow. A Union Pacific train chugged slowly through the yard. He held out his hand and she placed the phone in his palm. Jumping several rails, he waited until he got close enough and then turned the phone on and tossed it into an open car.

  "That ought to send them on a wild goose chase for a while. Hopefully this train is headed to Vegas." He guided her back to the truck and helped her inside. His cell rang and he winced at the number. "Sorry Alex, I got a little tied up. Let me call you right back." He hung up before Alex could respond.

  "I need to make a call," he told her as she fastened her seat belt. "I’ll be right outside." She didn’t need to hear his conversation with his cop buddy. She was trying hard to be strong and he admired her for that. He punched redial and Alex picked up on the first ring.

  "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

  "It’s complicated."

  "No, really?"

  Dorian's lips twitched at the sarcasm. "How secure is your line?"

  The question seemed to take Alex by surprise. He paused before answering, "I’m at the station."

  It was probably safe, but Dorian wasn’t taking chances, especially with Kendall’s life. "We should meet in a couple of hours."

  "Tell me now, Demarchis."

  "Trust me, Mylonas," he responded.

  "Yeah, okay," he grumbled. "Where and when?"

  "I’ll text you."<
br />
  "Why can’t you just—"

  Dorian disconnected, switching his phone to vibrate before stashing it in his pocket. Rounding the truck he opened the door and hopped inside. Kendall’s eyes sprang open, startled. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you."

  "That’s okay," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

  "Let’s find somewhere to bunk down for a few hours," he suggested. "Now that we know how they were tracking you, we should be safe." Starting the truck, he flipped on the lights and pulled into the street. He found a chain motel that had outdoor entrances to the room, as well as an interior one to a shared hallway. He flat refused to stay anywhere that didn’t offer an escape option.

  He left Kendall in the truck while he secured their room. She was asleep again and instead of waking her, he eased the door open, gently unlocked her belt and slid her into his arms. His shoulder gave a slight twinge. "I can walk," she muttered groggily, burrowing deeper against his chest. He chuckled and carried her into the room.

  Shifting her weight to one arm, he tugged down the comforter on one of the double beds and eased her to the mattress. She was asleep again before her head hit the pillow. He removed her shoes and pulled the covers over her, pausing to brush a tendril of hair from her face.

  Too wired to sleep, he padded to the bathroom and closed the door. He needed a shower after the chase in the alley earlier. Stepping under the hot water, he let the pounding stream sluice down his body, massage his aching shoulder. He'd have to pop some ibuprofen to ease the throb. He wouldn’t be surprised if he tore something loose in there. The bathroom quickly filled with steam, coating the mirror. Stepping out of the tub, he scrubbed dry with a towel and then knotted it around his hips. Using a dry washcloth, he wiped the mirror and dug in the duffle Daphne packed for him. Something caught his eye and he groaned. He was going to kill his little sister. Pulling his hand out, he withdrew a pair of silk boxers that read "Tight End". They were a gift from an ex-girlfriend and he'd forgotten they were even in the dresser in his old bedroom. Sticking his hand back inside, he was disgruntled to discover Daphne included the other two pairs with equally embarrassing slogans that went with this one…and no others. It was either go commando or don one of these ridiculous pairs of underwear.