“What’s with you and four hours, anyway?” Kelsey grumbled. She automatically took the bed farthest from the door and dropped face-first onto it, snuggling into the pillow she pulled out from under the garish comforter.
“It’s optimum—” She stopped. Kelsey was already asleep. She slid the gun under her own pillow, then lay down and closed her eyes.
She knew when she woke they’d far exceeded her time limit. Between the drapes showed a dim red and blue glow, not the bright sunshine there’d been when they came inside. She started to lift herself off the pillow, then froze.
There was someone else in the room.
Chapter Fourteen
Not again, she moaned silently. This was getting old.
She murmured as if in her sleep and rolled her head to the other side, slitting her eyes to try to see who was there and what they were doing. She could barely make out the outline of someone standing between the beds, unmoving. The person was tall and wide, probably male by the shape, and dressed in dark clothes.
Sleep held her body in enough grip to let her analytical mind continue processing. The figure was too far away for her to hit, even if she rolled across the bed. She couldn’t tell if he held anything in his hands. She chanced a glance at Kelsey, who was now partly under the covers and seemed to still be deeply asleep, lying on her side with her back to the room. Regan’s muscles tensed, ready to spring into action, but even the slight movement caused twinges all over her body, from her weak shoulder to her lower back and all the cuts in between.
“I know you’re awake.” The voice was low and strangely unmenacing. She didn’t recognize it as belonging to any of the men they’d confronted so far.
She didn’t bother trying to pretend she was asleep anymore. She just waited. Thirty seconds. A minute. The man didn’t move, and neither did Kelsey.
Was Kelsey even breathing? Had they succeeded in killing her? It took every ounce of willpower Regan had built over the years not to leap up and check.
“She’s okay,” the man finally said, and Regan wondered how the hell he was reading her mind. “She’s sedated.”
No. Her heart rate picked up and energy flooded her muscles, preparing her for action. “What do you want?” she asked, keeping her eyes just to the left of him so her peripheral vision would tell her if he moved.
He didn’t. “I want to take you to my employer. No one is going to be hurt. Trust me.”
Regan snorted despite her tension. “Yeah, right. You killed my boyfriend and left me for dead, beat up one of your own, chased and attacked us more than once—lots of basis for trust there.”
“You’ve got it wrong.” He took a couple of steps up the narrow space between beds and lifted his arms a little. She could now see a syringe in his right hand, and for the first time since she’d woken up, she tasted fear. She couldn’t let him sedate her, too, and drag them both to whomever he worked for.
The fool bent over her, and now she tasted satisfaction. Hadn’t he been told about their first attempt? Regan twisted at the waist and scissored her legs across the bed and up around his forearms, one under them, one over, hoping to knock the syringe from his hands without getting stuck. On the way by, her top foot glanced off his cheek, the impact reverberating up her leg. He grunted and spun away, but in the confined space his feet got tangled and he went down.
With a short burst of elation, Regan dropped to the floor and landed in a crouch, straddling his legs. She flattened her right hand and slammed it into his nose. He howled, his hands flying to his face, leaving his abdomen exposed. Kick him, her brain urged, but she didn’t have the leverage and since he was on his side, she couldn’t drive her knee into his solar plexus. Where the hell was a weapon when she needed one?
Knock him out.
She searched frantically for the syringe, barely avoiding his weak grabs for her. The pain blinding him wouldn’t last long. Her heart jumped when his left hand latched on to her wrist. Her breath now coming in sharp pants, she jerked her right foot out from under his hip and slammed it down on his biceps, dragging his arm to the floor.
There. The syringe had fallen onto Kelsey’s bed. She grabbed it and shoved the needle through his sleeve and into his upper arm, pressing the plunger down as quickly as it would go. He struggled wildly at the first sting of the needle. Regan fell sideways onto her bed, where she could use her feet to keep him at bay. Within a few moments he slumped back to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head, the whites looking purple in the glow from the neon sign outside.
Regan didn’t waste any time on relief or recovery. She didn’t know if he’d come alone or if he had a partner—or partners—waiting outside. She slid off the foot of the bed and grabbed the man by his wrists, dragging him around the end of Kelsey’s bed and into the bathroom. There wasn’t enough room to pull him all the way in without a lot of effort. His feet would be visible from the doorway, but she didn’t have time to worry about it.
She hurried to Kelsey’s bed and shook her shoulder, not having much hope for a response. She hadn’t moved during the entire scuffle.
“Kelsey.”
Nothing. Even though she’d expected it, it still made her stomach roll. She checked her daughter’s pulse and timed her breathing, both of which seemed fine. Then there was nothing to do but carry her out.
The clock on the table between the beds said it was eight-thirty, over two hours later than she’d intended to sleep. Again. It was dark outside, though well lit by the neon that not only illuminated the motel’s name and “vacancy” sign, but also lined the roof over the room entrances.
Moving as fast as she could, the specter of Sedation Man’s partners on her tail, she gathered the few things they’d brought into the room and carried the backpack out to Tyler’s truck, which she’d parked several spots away from her door. There was a couple nuzzling each other several doors away and a car parked in front of the office, as well as one pulling into the lot. Nerves jittered up Regan’s spine when she spotted the new one. She watched the nuzzly couple disappear into their room, then went back into hers and peered through the window. The new car bypassed the office and pulled down to the far end of the lot before reversing into a space on the other side of the U-shaped building. No one got out.
“Shit.” The nerves buzzed harder. The car might be unconnected, but the timing and actions were too coincidental. How was she going to get Kelsey out of here? Especially if they’d spotted her by Tyler’s truck when they pulled in.
Abandoning the supplies again to go out the back chafed, but she didn’t have much choice. Newer motels didn’t have bathroom windows, but this one, being very old and very unremodeled, did. Part of the reason she’d chosen it, of course, besides its seediness making it more likely the staff would bypass usual ID protocols.
Don’t rush it. She drew a few deep, calming breaths while she watched a moment longer. A man came out of the office and climbed into the car in front. His tread was heavy, as if he was a weary traveler, and he pulled around to park next to her truck. Regan couldn’t see him now, but heard thuds like the car door and trunk, and then the unmistakable bang of a room door slamming closed. Immediately, three doors of the other car across the way opened.
Regan exploded into action. She rushed back to Kelsey and hauled her out of the bed, dragging her limp form with Kelsey’s right arm draped around her neck and her own left arm around her daughter’s waist. It was the wrong way to do it and sent her shoulder screaming, but she didn’t have time to change position. She dragged her into the bathroom and over the body of their latest attacker, then propped her against the tub while she opened the window over the toilet and poked her head out to assess the area.
There was a narrow alley between the motel and the restaurant next door, not wide enough for most cars. A motorcycle was parked on the right, near a door into the restaurant, probably the kitchen or storeroom. She needed a vehicle but that wouldn’t do, obviously, with Kelsey unable to hold on.
Traffi
c drove by without ceasing on her left, far enough away she didn’t think anyone would see her climbing out the window. The window itself was plenty big enough to get through, but it was high on the wall, leaving a drop of a good seven or eight feet to the alley below.
Kelsey would hate her if she knew what her mother was about to do.
Steeling herself, Regan reached down and hauled Kelsey’s limp form off the floor and onto the toilet seat. Using one arm to hold her in place against the tank, she climbed up onto it and put her right leg through the window. Pressing her leg to the outside wall for leverage, she pulled Kelsey up higher, then grabbed her T-shirt, bunched at her shoulder blades, in her left fist.
Kelsey sagged and slid over the side of the seat, but Regan’s grip was firm. Kelsey’s weight served as ballast as Regan maneuvered her left leg through the window and backed out, balancing on her chest, her toes braced against the wall but providing no leverage. The ridges of the windowsill dug into her and she gritted her teeth against the pain. A few more bruises were nothing when compared to her daughter’s life.
But now she had a problem. She had at least two feet before she hit the ground. She’d be unable to reach the window, but could hardly pull Kelsey through while she herself hung one-handed from the sill. If she pulled her through on her back, she’d scrape her up and bruise her delicate skin. She hung there, cursing herself for doing something so stupid and wishing she’d never tried this.
Then she heard a knock on the door.
Panic shot through her. She stuck her wrists under Kelsey’s armpits, lifted her, and let the weight of her own body pull her back and through the window, Kelsey slithering over the edge like a giant squid, arms and legs dangling like tentacles. When Regan’s feet hit the ground she fell backward, holding tightly to her daughter so her head didn’t hit anything and most of her body landed on Regan.
She allowed herself to lie panting for five seconds, then struggled to her feet, this time supporting Kelsey on her right side to give her moaning shoulder a break. She hesitated one more moment, thinking which way to go. Dragging an unconscious person would definitely call attention to herself, so the main street was out. She headed for the dark, motorcycle end of the alley. There was a copse of trees back there, with a cluster of bushes she might be able to hide in until the sedative wore off.
She’d only gone three steps when the end of the alley was blocked.
For two seconds, Regan almost gave in to the fatigue and pain and overwhelming aloneness and sank down into a heap on the broken macadam.
Then, somehow, she got a whiff of her daughter’s familiar scent and determination came back. She carefully lowered Kelsey to the ground as the shadowed figures at the end of the alley approached. She didn’t take time to evaluate anything, just started running full-speed toward them, a roar building in her chest. She was not going to let them take her daughter.
She recognized the tallest man a second before her shoulder plowed into his midsection, knocking him back into the other man, who made a grab for the woman’s arm and missed. The three of them fell to the ground, Van yelling her name as they went.
“What the hell are you doing?” Regan punched Tyler’s shoulder before she could stop herself. The poor guy had been beaten twice already, and her considerable weight on top of him couldn’t be comfortable, especially with Tom under him. She scrambled to her feet with Van’s help. “Do you know what you just did?”
“Punished myself.” Tyler grimaced and held his ribs in the now-familiar protective pose as he reached for Regan’s outstretched hand and let her pull him to his feet. “If your phone was on, you would have known we were almost here.”
“I didn’t trust it.”
“Yeah. You don’t trust much, do you?”
She felt his eyes on her but didn’t look up. Tears welled, pissing her off. She was tired and overwhelmed, but that was no excuse for weakness.
Tom had spotted Kelsey on the ground behind her, dragged himself from under Tyler, and dashed down the dirty alley to his girlfriend.
“What’s wrong with Kelsey?” Van demanded, starting to head her way, too.
“She’s okay, I think. She was sedated.”
“You sedated her?” Tom demanded, carrying her back to them cradled against his chest.
“By who?” Van asked at the same time, sounding just as angry and protective.
“By some guy who managed to find us and break into the room. He almost got me, too. I was so tired, he was in the room for a while before I woke up. I was about to carry Kels out the front when you guys showed up.” She knew she sounded accusatory but couldn’t help it. “How did you find us, anyway?”
Tyler turned her and started moving them all to the far end of the alley where they could go around the building. “Same way he did, probably. The GPS on the truck.”
“We threw the phone away,” she said inanely. He hadn’t said the GPS in the phone.
“My employer has a GPS installed in all his employee vehicles. It’s hidden and not easily disabled.” Tyler stopped them and peered around the corner, then motioned them all forward. “You need me to take her a bit?” he asked Tom, who shook his head. He didn’t show any sign Kelsey was at all heavy.
They swiftly got to the next corner and moved on around the rear of the far side of the building, this one backing up to an even narrower alley. They had to walk single file. She let Tyler go ahead, with Tom behind her and Van bringing up the rear.
“We’ll leave the truck here and take the rental,” Tyler said.
Regan wanted to cry. “And go where? Besides, doesn’t the rental have a GPS and a tracker, too? So the agency can keep track of its location?”
Tyler flashed her a grin over his shoulder. “That one I disabled. Piece of cake. They’re trying to keep renters from violating their terms. They don’t expect people like us to be renting their property.”
People like us. What was that, Regan wondered? Crooks? Ex-military? Mothers on the run? Illicit lovers? She banished the last thought, both in regard to herself and to her daughter and Tom. Ugh.
“Where are we going?” she asked again. Complete and utter weariness made her feet heavy and her back bow as they got to the other end of the building and stopped.
“I’ll tell you later. Let me bring the car over and get us away from here.” Tyler disappeared toward the center of the lot where he’d parked. Regan waited with the others, grateful when Van leaned against her side, holding her up.
“I’m sorry we left you,” she said. “I was trying—”
“I know. Just remember how we saved your ass tonight, ’kay?”
Regan smirked. “If you don’t lord it over me forever.”
She didn’t know what was going to happen next, but she finally accepted that whatever it was would include the entire group. Which made it all the more important to come up with a plan.
One putting them in control.
Tyler pulled up with the car and they all hurried into it. Regan got into the front seat, the déjà vu so strong she knelt on the edge of despair. Nothing was going to change. They were going to keep running and being attacked and running again, until they couldn’t run anymore. Or couldn’t fight. Either way, it would lead to failure.
“Don’t worry,” Tyler said. “I figured something out.”
“What?”
“When I realized you’d stopped here I remembered it.” He slowed for the red light and glanced at her. His lopsided smile reminded her of a little boy who’d made his mother a clay pencil holder. “My stepfather’s mother left me a house in Minnesota. I haven’t been there in years. A property management firm rents it for me, but no one is there right now.”
“Sounds convenient,” Regan retorted.
“It is.” Either oblivious to or ignoring her sarcasm, he explained, “I lived with my father growing up and saw my mother once a month. Dad hated my stepfather and was very resentful of my grandmother—step-grandmother, though I thought of her as blood—so I neve
r told him when she left me the house. No one knows about it.”
“What about your stepfather?”
He went quiet even before he spoke. “He and my mother died in a plane crash when I was nineteen, four years before my grandmother passed away.”
“And the Harrisons don’t know about this place, either?”
“Nope.”
Regan was skeptical. What little she knew about the Harrisons pointed to their being the kind of people who learned every possible tidbit about those who worked for them.
But they needed a place.
“Did you see the guy in the bathroom?” she asked him.
“Just his feet.”
“Didn’t happen to recognize his feet, did you?”
Tyler chuckled. “No. Should I have?”
“He said his employer sent him.”
“Doesn’t mean his employer and mine are the same.” He glanced at her. “Really, Regan, I don’t think the Harrisons would have killed Alan the same night they sent me to protect you.”
Unless they’d recognized Tyler’s growing feelings for her and couldn’t trust him anymore.
It was the first time she’d thought of his feelings since she’d left the last hotel. It unlocked a floodgate of its own, and suddenly she was glad he’d found her. She rested her hand on the console between them and Tyler immediately took it in his, raising it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. His fingers trembled as he lowered their hands to his thigh, and this time he stared straight ahead, obviously avoiding looking at her.
For the first time, Regan believed he cared about her. She’d scared him when she left. Her inner cynic reminded her he could have been scared about what the Harrisons would do when they realized he’d lost them, but she didn’t think, despite the performance he’d put on for the last two years, he was that good an actor.
Or maybe she just needed to believe in something new.
She looked over her shoulder. Tom cradled Kelsey on his lap, and Regan didn’t have the heart to tell him to put her in a seatbelt. His face was taut, his hands clutching her against him, and he even rocked forward and back as he watched the side mirror through his window.
Fight or Flight Page 17
