BRANNON: I’m busy. Besides, this isn’t about me, it’s about you. How about the Mogadore Minute Motel?
ME: The what?
BRANNON: The Mogadore Minute Motel. Sleazy place over on West Ave. Can’t guarantee quality – only time I was ever there it was very dark, and very private. That’s all I cared about. I don’t even think they have a website.
ME: I’ll call ‘em. Thanks, B!
BRANNON: Any time, bro.
While I’d been texting Bran, Cameron had begun pacing in the lobby, one hand tightly twisting a curl around his finger, the other holding onto his phone so tightly I half expected it to break. Not that I cared, really. Once I got the hotel figured out, he wasn’t my problem, but something about him was off. He looked so close to losing it right there in the hotel lobby, I was getting a little worried. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe his dick-like behavior didn’t have anything to do with me, in particular. Maybe he was dealing with something else altogether.
I had the strangest urge to just reach out and wrap my hand around the back of his neck and hold him still, stop his pacing and bring his forehead to mine. Just make him breathe for a god damn minute.
I felt the pressure build in my groin as I pictured it. Fuck. It had obviously been way too long since I’d got laid. By force of will alone, I managed to keep my hands to myself.
I found the phone number for the place Bran had recommended. There were no pictures on the Google site, which was never a good sign, but a brief phone call later and, finally, success.
I added the address to my phone and got Cameron’s attention.
“C’mon,” I said, picking up his stuff and heading outside. “Let’s go. I found you a hotel.”
4
Mason
Being outside brought almostinstant relief. Just getting away from all the music, people and noise, started to calm my jangled nerves.
Night was falling quickly, and cars flew by on the interstate at a distant hum. Above us, I saw stars beginning to peek out of the indigo sky, but the oppressive heat seemed to sink into my skin. It had to be at least nine o’clock by now. I was exhausted from the day, and super edgy after everything that had gone wrong.
I could feel my heart racing and sweat beading up on my forehead. I kept looking at every person who passed us, terrified I would see Dreyven or one of his men.
I knew it wasn’t logical, but logic didn’t slow my frantically beating heart. This was the closest I’d been to Milwaukee since I’d escaped him. It was my first public event, and while there was no way he could connect Mason Cameron and Mason Malone, my brain wasn’t convinced.
I doubted Ricky had even known my middle name, much less Dreyven. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the relaxation apps on my phone. I needed to make this work.
We loaded my things into the back of the Jeep, and I forced myselfto re-enter the car, in the front seat this time. Lee seemed surprised when I did, but I ignored his glance and settled in for the drive.
Lee started the SUV, and the air conditioning blew icy air into my face, which felt good, and fortunately Lee didn’t seem like he wanted to talk. I was able to zone out a bit as he got us back onto the interstate. Fortunately, he didn’t start up the radio or anything, allowing me to focus on the soothing noise coming through my earbuds. Was he being considerate? I thought he had caught on something was wrong.
I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. I’d had them multiple times after I’d escaped from Milwaukee, but I hadn’t had one in a couple of years. I wasn’t sure what was setting it off… the travel problems, all the new people, or just being away from home, maybe? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I needed to get some alone time, and soon.
We drove about twenty minutes before pulling off the interstate and into a place with a sign that said “Mogadore Minute Motel”. It wasn’t even a lighted sign, just faded and peeling paint spelling out the name against a white background.
Lee stopped outside the motel office for a moment, eyeing the sketchy-looking place dubiously.
“Are you sure you want to try this place?” Lee asked skeptically.
“Yep, it’s fine,” I answered quickly, hardly even glancing around. I really needed that alone time.
When he came out of the office the look on his face almost made me laugh. He looked like he had just beaten the end game boss and won the trophy, or in this case, a room key.
“I got you the last room,” he called triumphantly, tossing me a metal key through the open window. I fumbled to catch it, then looked at it suspiciously. I didn’t think hotels evenusedactual keys anymore.
He got back in the SUV and we rolled down a long driveway. The motel was set up more like a campground than an actual hotel. Small cabins dotted the road, which we followed about a quarter of a mile before we found cabin eleven.
The cabin paint was faded and the wooden shutters were dilapidated.An overgrown path led to the ancient front door and wooden railroad ties were buried into the side of a small hill to provide makeshift steps. As we walked up to the tired looking building our shadows stretched crazily, dark figures cast by a single light near the end of the gravel drive.
I put the key in the door, but froze, unable to turn it, some unnamed terror gripped me, and I couldn’t move.
