“Where are we going?”
“You’re going into hiding. And I’m going to watch you until it’s time to testify.”
“Who approved that?”
“I did.”
“Reid, you can’t just make up your own rules.”
“Who says?” he asked. “Cause I just did.”
“You’re still impossible.”
“Ah, sugar, that’s one of the things you like best about me.” It was, but she wasn’t admitting that now. “Right now, you’re the only witness left alive. You’re wanted. I’ll talk to the necessary people. You just sit back and heal.”
“I can’t do anything in this alley.”
“Just waiting for our ride.” He winked at her like he might actually be enjoying this. “You’re not going to be happy, but . . .”
“I’m already unhappy. Deeply.” Plus her entire body throbbed.
The flatbed pulled up and he pointed as the man got out to deliver food to a nearby building. “No way.”
“Just to get us out of town—the cops have a roadblock set up already,” Reid told her.
In the next swift moments, Reid had her inside the flatbed and closed it over both of them. At least it was clean and padded, she thought as they stowed away.
Clean. Padded. Coffin-like.
“Just look at me,” Reid urged. Soon, it would be too late for them to talk. “It’ll rock you to sleep if you let it.”
She wanted to protest, but already the steady sway worked its magic. Reid’s hand rested on her hip to keep her in place and she drifted. Woke when Reid murmured her name. Realized how sore she was when Reid helped her out of the flatbed and into the motel lot.
“We’re not staying here. We need a place with room service,” he said. “Half-a-mile walk.”
She nodded. Wouldn’t crap out in front of Reid.
“I can steal a car, if it’s easier.”
It would be. Her body begged for it but she wouldn’t ask.
“Guess I’m stealing a car,” he said anyway. In seconds, they drove off in the late-model sedan left in front of the Marriott as they checked in as Mr. And Mrs. Dylan. They both looked like hell but the night clerk didn’t say a word.
As they walked away from the desk, he told her, “We’re not staying in that room for long. Vivi will take care of it.”
She guessed all of this was necessary to throw anyone off her trail. She should be grateful. Wanted to be. Instead, she headed to the nearest bathroom and vomited in the nearest stall.
Reid was in there with her, obviously not caring that it was clearly labeled the ladies’ room, but at this time of night, it was empty. He gave her a cloth to wipe her face and carried her out of the bathroom and toward the elevator. She kept the cloth over her lips, trying to breathe in deeply, not to get sick on the elevator. And she succeeded, making it into the hotel room, sitting on the bed while Reid took a call from the woman she supposed was Vivi.
“You’re all set. Your couple will check out tonight. You’re registered as a triple—family with a kid. Room 204.”
“Thanks, Viv.” He hung up and told Grier, “We’re almost there, honey. One more elevator ride.”
She let him carry her again without protest.
* * *
Jack’s one and only phone call was to a man he’d never met. He figured Reid would be too busy and he told the agent interrogating him that he needed to call his lawyer.
Dylan played his part well, as Jack expected. Seemed to not be surprised that Jack was calling.
“Don’t say a goddamned word—just listen.” Dylan cursed several times, which seemed to be more to focus him than Jack. “I’m having someone check your bank accounts. It’s not good. Just refuse to speak until your lawyer shows. I’ll make sure you get released within forty-eight hours.”
Jack wanted to ask, legally or not? And, as if Dylan read his mind, he said, “Do you care how?”
“No,” Jack said tightly. Because the longer he stayed here, the bigger the bull’s-eye on his back grew. When Dylan cut the line, he forced himself to remain calm.
You’ve been through worse and you’ve made it through. You don’t need a goddamned lifeline.
But, with Reid and his friends, he’d get one anyway.
He finally let go of the receiver and the cop in front of him, who’d been watching him the entire time, took it and put it in its cradle. Moved it off to the side.
Jack had been in a million of these rooms, on both sides of the interrogation. They were all the same, built to be sterile. Intimidating. Hopeless.
“You gonna talk now?” the cop demanded.
“I’d rather wait for my lawyer.”
“You wait. We’ll talk.” He motioned for his partner and they sat across from him and slid a folder his way. He glanced down at it and schooled his expression so he didn’t give anything away, but his gut tightened.
That was some pretty indisputable proof they had against him. He supposed they had a similar file to show to Grier, if they ever caught her.
Jack knew it was only a matter of time before the FBI got involved and took him away. He figured they might already be on the other side of the glass. It would get very ugly before it got better.
If it got better.
Chapter Eight
* * *
Reid went through the supplies and clothing that was magically placed in their new room. Grier had to admit grudging respect for this team that lived and worked off the grid. They were organized as hell, and obviously, someone else was close enough to be able to help them.
“Is anyone else coming here?” she asked.
“Do you want them to?”
“No.”
“Then they won’t.” He’d laid out gauze and various
