He started walking again, and Alyssa hurried to catch up. Trusting a trio of Dallas SWAT cops who probably weren’t even human might not be the smart thing to do, but her instincts were telling her it was okay. That was enough for her.
* * *
Alyssa already knew they weren’t heading to Zane’s room, so she was a little surprised when he didn’t even bother to knock before slipping a key card into the scratched, dingy door of the charming, little no-name motel room and pushed his way in. Hell, he didn’t even announce himself. Wasn’t he afraid of getting shot? And getting shot in this place was a distinct possibility. It looked like the kind of motel Sam and Dean would only stay in when they were seriously short on cash. Or hiding from particularly scary demons.
“Hope you two have your clothes on because we have company,” Zane said as they walked into the room.
The comment earned him synchronized snorts of amusement from the man and woman sitting on the shabby couch. She hadn’t gotten a great look at them last night—it had been dark in the club and those flashing strobe lights hadn’t helped—but there was no mistaking they were the people she’d seen follow Stefan out. Even sitting there clicking away at the keyboards of three different laptops spread out on the coffee table in front of them among all the fast-food containers, they projected the same barely contained animal grace and power as Zane.
“Diego Miguel Martinez and Rachel Bennett,” Zane introduced. “Diego, Rachel—Alyssa Carson.”
Diego stood and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He wasn’t as tall as Zane, but she could tell that, under his T-shirt, he had muscles on top of muscles. Heck, his forearms were so built she thought he might crush her hand. She almost pulled it back out of pure self-preservation. But then she met his kind, dark eyes and instinctively realized she wasn’t in danger.
“Zane mentioned having dinner with you last night, but I have to admit, you don’t fit the description he gave us,” Diego said.
She threw a confused glance in Zane’s direction before turning to Diego. “How did he describe me?”
“Don’t worry. He didn’t say anything unflattering,” Rachel said in a distinct southern twang as she got to her feet. “But after listening to him go on and on about you last night, we got the impression you’d be…I don’t know…bigger.”
Alyssa eyed the tall, athletic SWAT cop, wondering if she should be offended by that. She might not be as muscular as Rachel, but she was nearly as tall.
Rachel smiled and extended a hand in greeting. “I’d offer you something cold to drink, but there aren’t any fridges in the rooms and the ice machine out front is broken.”
As Zane told his teammates about how the meeting with Zoe and Chloe had gone, Alyssa looked around the room and decided she’d never again complain about the hotel per diem the FBI authorized for her. The places she stayed in were the Ritz compared to this dump. The carpets were stained and dirty, and the small bed in the corner looked like the most uncomfortable thing in the world to sleep on.
“But on the bright side,” Diego said in his naturally husky voice, “there’s an In-N-Out Burger right down the street. So, how about a warm soda, a side of fries, and some dirt on Curtis Unified Parking Services?”
Alyssa headed for the couch and sat down. “You had me at fries.”
Diego laughed and took a seat on the other side of Rachel, reaching across her to hand Alyssa a little red-and-white cardboard tray filled with beautiful, greasy fries. As she picked one up and nibbled on its salty goodness, she threw a look in Zane’s direction, silently telling him he had some explaining to do. She still wanted to know how he’d described her to his teammates but decided it could wait.
The hunky Brit gave her a subtle nod. Yeah, he knew he was in trouble.
Funny how she and Zane seemed to be able to communicate with each other without words, even though they’d only met last night. There were people in the bureau she’d worked with for over a year she still couldn’t read as well.
Alyssa pushed the thought aside for later and turned her attention to the three laptops on the table. The ones on either side were opened to the Internet. Skype was up on the middle computer, and she found herself gazing at an attractive guy with dark-blond hair, blue eyes, and an amused expression on his face.
“So, you’re Alyssa Carson—federal agent and all around badass,” he said.
Alyssa smiled. “All around badass?”
“Hell yeah.” He grinned. “Your personnel record kind of makes you out to be some kind of superhero.”
“Ah,” she breathed. “You must be the hacker Zane mentioned. Breaking into the FBI personnel system, huh? That’s impressive. With those kinds of skills, you should be working for the feds.”
He gave her an appraising look. “Zane told me there was something different about you. I see what he means. By the way, my name’s Eric Becker. But everyone just calls me Becker.”
Alyssa felt more than saw Zane move over to stand beside her end of the couch. She was a little surprised he’d told his teammates such complimentary things about her. She hadn’t thought dinner had gone that well last night. The urge to ask him what he’d said about her was difficult to suppress. It was crazy, but she wanted to know what he genuinely thought of her. He seemed to find her impressive, and for some reason, she liked the way that made her feel.
She bit into another fry and focused on the real reason she was there. “So, what do you have on Stefan and his garage?”
Becker shuffled papers around on the desk, looking for something while Rachel and Diego picked up small spiral notebooks from the coffee table, the kind police officers everywhere carried to write down info for an investigation. The two SWAT cops flipped through the pages, reviewing what they’d already written.
Zane sat on the arm of the couch, his hip brushing her sleeve. Alyssa closed her eyes for a moment. Crap, she could practically smell him. No…strike that. She coulddefinitelysmell him. The scent was so strong she had a hard time resisting the urge to turn and bury her face in the front of his shirt and breathe all of him in. She’d never ever wanted to do that to a guy before.
Get a frigging grip, girl.
