“Are they nearly at the motel?” she asks.
“Not sure. Could be minutes. Could be hours. Depends on how thorough they are.”
“And if they knock?”
“We stay quiet. Hope they move on.”
“And if they push it?”
I look at her. She’s watching me now, eye contact restored because necessity overrides personal discomfort.
“Then we fight our way out,” I say.
She nods once. Accepting that too.
More quiet.
Outside, I hear an engine. I watch one of the SUVs move further down the main street. They’re spreading out. Covering more ground.
We might have time. Might get lucky.
Or we might not.
Either way, we’re confined here. Together. With everything from last night sitting between us unacknowledged, and the very real possibility that in the next hour we might have to fight for our lives.
My dragon moves beneath my skin. Wanting her attention. Wanting her to look at me the way she did last night—pupils blown wide, lips swollen from kissing, that desperate need written across every line of her body.
I turn back to the window. Try to focus on the threat outside instead of the one inside this room. Try to forget how she felt on top of me, the sweetness of her mouth, the desperate sounds she made when she was close to coming. How close my hand was to sliding into her pants when she—
Focus.
Outside, the Syndicate searches.
Inside, we wait.
Chapter 14
Nadia
The first half hour passes uneventfully, but that doesn’t ease the tension. They’re out there. Hunting us. And I fucking hate it, because I’m rarely on the receiving end. My nerves are strung out. It doesn’t help that my wolf is restless. Pacing beneath my skin.
The heat cycle hasn’t faded; if anything, being confined in this small space with him is making it worse. It makes even my teeth ache with want. My senses filled with him. I force myself to breathe through my mouth. It doesn’t help.
“How close?” I ask for the third time.
“Four buildings down. Maybe five.”
I stand and move to the window on the opposite side, careful to stay out of sight. From this angle, I can see part of the main street. One SUV is still visible, parked outside the general store. An agent stands beside it, arms crossed, scanning the area.Professional. Patient. Exactly what I’d expect from Syndicate operatives.
“They won’t find anything,” I say. More to myself than him. “We didn’t sign the register. Paid cash. There’s no trail.”
“Unless someone saw us this morning. Or they picked up the wire transfer.”
True. The diner. Walking down the street. We were visible, and small towns remember strangers.
I turn away from the window and nearly collide with him. He’s moved closer without me hearing, standing just behind me.
We both freeze. I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
