Take the Key and Lock Her Up (35 page)

“I don’t suppose you could share that whiskey, could you?” he asked when he trusted
his voice to work again.

She put the syringe down and held up a pair of silver tongs, snapping them together
in a bloodthirsty way that had him suddenly wondering if losing the use of his arm
from not getting the bullet out might be safer than letting a tipsy Emily operate
on him.

“Nope. Sorry. It’s all gone. Now, lay your head down and be still. I have a pesky
little bullet to find in this big ol’ shoulder here. And then, later, maybe you can
tell me all about these interesting tattoos.”

He gritted his teeth and buried his face in one of the pillows.

W
HEN THE SUNLIGHT
seeped in through a tiny crack in the curtains the following morning, Emily was shocked
to find herself under the covers on the same bed as Devlin. He was snuggled up behind
her, his warm thighs tucked beneath hers. His left arm was wrapped around her waist
and his deep, even breaths swirled the hair on the top of her head.

She glanced down, relieved to discover she was dressed—if wearing a shirt and panties
was
dressed
. She wasn’t so certain about Devlin. The warmth of his body emanating to hers made
her think he might be naked. Part of her didn’t mind that one bit.

But the other part of her—the part that was just starting to realize the headache
pounding behind her eyelids and the nausea roiling in her stomach were because of
the ridiculous amount of whiskey she’d consumed last night—
that
part of her wanted nothing more than to escape to the bathroom before she embarrassed
herself even further and threw up in front of the man she’d been lusting over.

After attempting to slide out from under his arm without waking him or jarring his
injury, she suddenly found herself flat on her back looking up into a pair of dark
gray eyes.

“Morning,” he said.

“Uh, morning.” She was relieved to see the glaze of pain gone from them. And his skin
had a much healthier tone than it had last night. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” He ran his finger down the side of her face. “Good enough to show you my tattoos,
if you’re interested.”

She blinked in confusion. “Your tattoos?”

He sighed. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Uh, apparently not. And I’m starting to think maybe I don’t want to.” Her stomach
chose that moment to twist into another tight knot. She pressed her hand against her
throat. “I need to . . . ah . . . take a shower.”

His lips twitched. “A shower, huh? From the lovely shade of green on your face, I’m
thinking you need to throw up some of that whiskey you selfishly wouldn’t share last
night.”

Her stomach rumbled.

His eyes widened and he immediately let her go.

She ran to the bathroom and just managed to shove the door shut and drop to her knees
in front of the toilet before Jack Daniel’s made an encore appearance.

It was a good hour later before she felt somewhat human again. A hot shower had done
wonders. So had a cup of the nasty-tasting coffee from the coffeemaker on the bathroom
counter. The caffeine had made the horrible taste worth ignoring. Add to that a packet
of aspirin she’d pilfered from the vet and she could now face the day with a bit of
optimism. Or at least she would have if she had answered Devlin’s question with a
lie instead of the truth.

He’d sprung the question on her after he came out of the shower, holding a towel around
his waist, and saw the fresh set of jeans, shirt, and underwear Emily had laid out
on the bed for him.

“Emily, where did these clothes come from? And the toiletries in the bathroom?”

“The superstore about five miles down the road.”

His eyelids drooped to half-mast. “You drove the Mustang—Ace’s Mustang?”

His overly polite, carefully enunciated questions were starting to make her realize
she might have screwed up royally. But she didn’t understand why.

“I was careful. I used cash. And when I got back here I parked the car in the lot
by the motel across from ours.”

When he shook his head, she couldn’t help feeling defensive.

“What’s the problem? Your shirt was bloody. Your jeans were cut up and covered in
soot. And my clothes weren’t in much better shape. How are we supposed to blend in
looking like that?”

He stared at her, his brows raised. Waiting.

Then it clicked.
Shoot
. “I suppose it’s possible I might have drawn a little attention with my soot-streaked
shirt.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “And I bought clothes for both
a man and a woman, and you might have mentioned earlier that Ace and his thugs would
be on the lookout for a couple. And maybe I shouldn’t have driven the Mustang directly
from the store to our motel.”

“Bingo,” he said. “Ace would know in order to blend in we’d need more clothes. A superstore
is the most obvious place to get them. What time did you go to the store?”

“Probably about eight last night. But no one saw me. If they did, they’d have been
here already. It’s past seven in the morning.”

“That’s not how it works. Ace is wounded. It would have taken him some time to get
his Plan B into motion. He might not have had anyone at the store when you went there.
But if it’s one of the main stores in the area, you can bet his men will be questioning
the manager and tricking him into thinking they have a legitimate reason to look at
surveillance video. That takes time.” He strode past her to the front window and pulled
the curtain back a few inches.

From the way he stiffened, Emily knew her mistakes were about to come back to haunt
both of them.

D
EVLIN HELD THE
curtain slit open so Emily could see what he was looking at.

“I don’t see anyone at all.” The relief in her voice was palpable. “We must be okay.”

“Check the other motel, the one across the parking lot from ours. Watch the last door
on the left, bottom floor.”

A few seconds later, two men dressed in black flak jackets stepped outside the room.
The word
POLICE
was written across the back in stark-white letters.

“Those aren’t the kind of jackets the Chatham County police use,” she said.

“I know.” He rushed to the bed to finish getting dressed. His shoulder was starting
to throb again, but he didn’t have time to take anything for it.

“The hotel manager must think they’re real police,” she said from her position by
the window. “They’re using master keys, going room to room.” She dropped the curtain
and turned around. “Maybe they’ll search only that motel since that’s where the Mustang
is parked.

“Do you really believe that?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No.”

Putting the Kevlar vest on was becoming a form of torture with his shoulder throbbing
so hard.

Emily ran to help him, then insisted on popping some aspirin in his mouth and making
him chase it with a cup of lukewarm coffee.

He grimaced and handed the cup back to her. “Thanks. I think.” He checked the loading
of the gun he’d taken from Tuck. A full clip. Not enough if he got pinned down in
a gunfight, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He shoved it in his pocket; again
not ideal, but he’d tossed his holster in Alex’s pond.

When he saw Emily, still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his stomach sank. “Please
tell me you didn’t leave your Kevlar at Alex’s house.”

“I had to ditch it in the Charger. Drier would have known my vest was still at the
office. He’d have asked all kinds of questions. And before you try to give me yours,
there’s no way I could run or even bend in that thing. It’s way too big and heavy.”

She was right and he knew it, but it felt every kind of wrong to have a vest on while
she didn’t. He crossed the room, relieved that the aspirin was already kicking in
enough to dull the throbbing in his shoulder a bit, and peered out the crack in the
curtains. “Well, the good news is they’re apparently searching for evidence in each
room to see if we’ve been there.”

“Why do you say that? And why is that good?”

“As small as these rooms are, it would take only a quick glance under the bed, in
the bathroom, and in the closet to know the room was empty. The most that should take
is five or six seconds. They’re taking between thirty- and thirty-five seconds, longer
sometimes, probably because those rooms are occupied. That will make it easier to
sneak out of here. Plus, it will take them a few minutes to convince the manager of
this motel to give them room keys. That buys us even more time.”

Emily shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on it taking them any time at all to get the
keys. The manager didn’t even look at me when I got our room. He cared only about
the money on the counter. He’s not going to ask about search warrants or probable
cause.”

Devlin smiled. “Maybe not. Where’s the car?”

“On the far left, near the Dumpsters.”

“Too far away. We’d never reach it without being seen. We’ll have to wing it.”

“Meaning?”

“If we hadn’t been forced to ditch my go bag at Alex’s house, I’d have some tools
I could use to hot-wire a car.”

She winced. “And I’d still have my Sig Sauer and could protect myself instead of counting
on you to protect me using the gun you stole from Tuck.” She shook her head. “I should
have tried harder to get that bag past Drier. What can we do since you don’t have
the tools you need?”

“The answer to that might be too hard for a reforming cop to swallow. I think I’d
rather surprise you.”

The look on her face told him she didn’t like the sound of that, which also told him
he’d made the right decision not telling her his plan. He just hoped she’d understand
and wouldn’t hate him later.

He looked out through the slit in the curtains again. “They’ve finished searching
the other motel.”

She joined him by the door. “I don’t suppose that means they’re leaving.”

He grinned. “Now, where would the fun be in that?” He strode toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she called out.

He grabbed the trash can with the bloody towels and bandages she’d used on his shoulder.
“Hiding the evidence that we were ever in this room. Can you lift the mattress a few
inches?”

She lifted it and he shoved the whole bloody mess between the mattress and box spring
before putting the trash can back in the bathroom. Between the two of them, they hid
any evidence as well as they could. Except for the papers she’d taken from the binder
earlier, which she shoved into the top of her waistband again, then dropped her shirt
back down.

Devlin squeezed her hand in thanks. “Just follow me and do what I say. We’ll have
to time our exit just right. But I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, Em. Promise.”

“You’ve kept me alive this long. I have no reason to doubt you now. But just for the
record, I’m a good shot. Get me a gun and I can watch your back.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t have guessed that from the basement incident.”

She flushed a pretty pink. “Not my best moment.”

He pressed a quick kiss against her lips. He didn’t know which of them was more surprised
And since he was thinking about grabbing her for another much hotter, wetter, deeper
kiss, he forced himself to turn away. He hurried to the door and waved for her to
join him as he looked out the peephole.

“When we go outside, duck down. We’ll use the row of cars out front as cover and slowly
make our way toward the office.”

“Got it. Duck down. Do what you say. And pray. You forgot pray. I’ve got that part
covered.”

He grinned. “Get ready; they’re about to go into some rooms at the far-left end of
our motel. “Wait . . . wait . . . wait . . . okay, go.” He threw the door open and
pulled her outside.

He quietly closed the door behind them, then pulled her in between two cars. They
hurried to the back bumper, ducking down low as he leaned out to watch for their pursuers.
He tugged her to the next car, waited, watched. Another few feet to the next one.

“Down,” he whispered, pulling her with him to the pavement by the trunk. He listened
closely to the sounds of feet shuffling, low voices, and motel-room doors opening.
They were close, too close.

A few seconds later, he signaled to Emily to move again. They both ducked down and
ran to the next car. Their pattern continued until they were almost to the manager’s
office.

Shouts suddenly sounded from behind them.

Devlin whirled around. One of Ace’s men was standing along the row of cars, looking
directly at them, clawing for his gun. Devlin picked him off with a shot clean through
the temple.

Emily made a strangling sound in her throat. Devlin didn’t have time to apologize
even if he’d wanted to. He yanked her in front of him, covering her as best he could.

“Run, Em.” He urged her around the side of the car.

The driver’s window exploded in as the sound of another gunshot echoed through the
air.

Emily screamed and ducked down as glass rained on her.

Devlin grabbed her around the waist and lifted her, setting her on her feet and pulling
her forward. “This way!”

They tore off through the breezeway by the manager’s office to the grass behind the
motel. Devlin pushed her toward the road out front. She was about to learn his Plan
B since he didn’t have his tools to hot-wire a car.

“What now?” Emily asked, gasping for breath.

Devlin grabbed her and pulled her to the front of the manager’s building, right by
the road. Running footsteps sounded behind them.

“We’re trapped.” Emily put her hand on his arm.

“Don’t give up on me yet.” He kept his gaze focused on the road out front. An engine
revved. Plan B came barreling around the curve in the form of a black SUV.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and ran with her out onto the road, keeping the manager’s
building between them and their pursuers.

Devlin braced his legs wide apart and aimed his gun at the windshield. Brakes screeched.
The SUV came to a shuddering halt.