“Skies!” She yelped and jumped back. “Turn it off!”
The flow of hot water stopped.
Lara eyed the cloud of steam curling overhead like an evil genie against the water-stained tile, her heart thumping.
Something wasn’t . . . right. She reached for the cold tap on the sink.
“Careful,” Iestyn warned.
She turned the handle. Just a little bit.
Metal screeched. Water exploded into the sink, white-hot.
She yanked on the tap, fighting the pressure from the pipe, choking the geyser to a trickle. Plumbing rattled and groaned. An ominous hiss escaped the faucet.
Iestyn moved purposeful y past her. “I’l cal the front desk.”
“Don’t bother.” She forced the words past her tight throat.
“We have to check out. Now.”
He stopped directly in front of her, a solid male wal .
“Why?”
She raised her gaze from his chest to his face. Licked her dry lips. “The demons have found us.”
*
*
*
Iestyn squatted on his heels in front of the Jeep. He couldn’t leave Lara now.
He wouldn’t go back to Rockhaven.
So for the time being, they were stuck with each other.
He tightened the screws on the Jeep’s new New Jersey license plate, trying hard not to feel cheerful about that.
Lara tossed the plastic Walmart bags in back. Her eyes F
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had widened when she saw him removing the plate from the Corol a five spaces down, but she hadn’t said a word in protest.
He grinned. His angel was adapting to al kinds of new experiences. Good and bad. Once she dropped her little bomb about the demons, she’d taken five minutes, tops, to throw on her clothes and clear the room. No fuss. No wasting time.
He’d crewed with guys who weren’t as steady in a crisis.
He watched her climb into the passenger’s side, her new jeans pul ing across the slender curve of her butt.
And they for damn sure didn’t have her ass.
He gave the screw head a final twist with the point of his knife and swung in beside her.
“Al set?” He put the key in the ignition, released the clutch.
She nodded, her face set and white. He was no good at relationships, but even he could tel something was bugging her.
They bounced out of the parking lot and under a bridge, fol owing the highway signs along narrow gray streets ful of dry cleaners and Chinese restaurants, drugstores and tattoo parlors. The lights went on in a coffee shop.
Even this early in the morning, traffic was picking up.
He didn’t know this town. He just hoped the demons were as lost as he was.
Lara stirred. “Do you know where we’re going?”
He slanted her a look. “North.”
He hoped. He looked for another highway sign . . . and nearly swiped the mirror off a delivery truck idling in a loading zone.
His heart rate jumped. He steadied the wheel and shot another glance at Lara’s pale, set face. “What?”
“I owe you an apology.”
Surprise almost made him smile. “Babe, most times 16 6
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I spend the night with a beautiful woman, she doesn’t apologize in the morning.”
She turned pink. With anger or embarrassment? He hardly cared. Pink was better than pale and miserable. “It’s not that. Wel , not exactly. The thing is . . .” She took a deep breath. “It’s my fault you almost burned in the shower.”
“Don’t say that. You warded the motel room, right?”
“I used the taw to seal the door and windows. But—”
