His hand came to rest tenderly on the side of her face. “Thank you for healing me.”
“Anytime,” she whispered, still grappling with the thought of just how close to death he’d been tonight.
He leaned forward, but instead of claiming her mouth in another scorching kiss, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Think you can find something ugly to wear in here?”
After changing clothes and using the washroom to clean up, they grabbed a couple of jackets off the racks and prepared to leave. Razor had traded his black leather for a pair of jeans and a thick plaid shirt over a black T-shirt. At his direction, Willow donned loose denim, a thermal long-sleeve and an oversized olive hoodie sweatshirt that hung halfway down her thighs and made her look like a drab dumpling.
“Perfect,” he said, smirking at her.
He, on the other hand, looked like a big, sexy Breed lumberjack who was about to go chop down a forest with his bare hands.
“I’ll take your old clothes,” he said, stowing them under his arm along with his own.
As she slung her purse onto her shoulder, Razor transferred the flash drive to the pocket of his jeans. Then he pulled several bills out of his pocket and left the money on the counter as they walked out of the shop.
Stone-cold killer and a Breed male to boot, yet he was courteous enough to pay for the second-hand clothes rather than steal them. She smiled and shook her head, watching him ditch their ruined garments in a dumpster out back.
He frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just trying to figure you out,” she said, not even trying to conceal her fascination over all the intriguing contradictions he posed. “You’re not what I expected. Who does all this for someone they’d never even seen until two days ago? You’re a good man, Razor.”
“No, I’m not.” He gave her a look that seemed more conflicted than flattered. “And you shouldn’t try to figure me out. You’ll only be disappointed.”
With that, he closed the dumpster lid and turned away from her. “We’d better get moving.”
His abrupt change of mood troubled her, but even that mercurial side of him was becoming familiar to her. Comfortable, in fact. She fell in beside him, walking swiftly to keep up with his long-legged pace. “Where can we go now?”
“This far north? Not a lot of options. Fewer now that we know we’ve likely got eyes on us here.” He gave her a brief sidelong glance. “There’ll be more where they came from, so we need to stay ahead of them while we can.”
She nodded, trying not to relive the carnage back at St. Anne’s. At least Madame Gauthier and the two residents at the shelter tonight were safe. Willow had never felt much affection toward Estelle Dupont even as a girl, yet the woman’s betrayal cut deep.
What on earth had Laurel been mixed up in to warrant so much bloodshed and death?
As glad as Willow was to have recovered the hidden flash drive her sister left for her to find, part of her was terrified to know what it contained.
Her thoughts were a tumbling mess of doubt and dread as she hurried through the city alongside Razor. Up ahead the bright lights of a corner gas station and convenience store glowed a milky white against the darkness. Razor headed that way, his gaze trained on the large semi-truck refueling at one of the pumps.
“Maine license plates,” he murmured as they neared the station. He paused in the shadows of the convenience store building and glanced at Willow. “Stay put for a minute while I go talk to the driver.”
He didn’t give her a chance to question him. Setting off at a determined pace, he walked up to the rumpled, sixty-something old man at the fuel pump. Willow saw the edge of uncertainty on the driver’s face when he first saw the huge male approaching him. He soon relaxed, giving a consenting nod as Razor took out a sizable amount of cash and handed it to him.
The money disappeared into the old man’s jacket pocket as Razor jogged across the concrete to Willow. “We’ve got a ride out of Quebec City. He’s agreed to take us across the border into Maine.”
“What are we going to do once we get there?”
“Find somewhere safe to lie low for awhile.” Razor took her hand in his. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER 15
The trucker did as agreed, letting Razor and Willow ride along for the roughly two hours from Quebec City to the small border crossing into the U.S. at St. Zacharie, Maine.
Razor’s two hundred dollars cash bought the transport and another two hundred to the rural station attendant on duty at the border purchased entry back into the States with no questions asked.
It was closing in on 10PM as the truck rolled along the forested stretch of an unpaved, narrow two-lane highway through the North Maine Woods. Razor sat in the passenger seat of the spacious sleeper cab, while Willow perched silently on the edge of the bunk in back.
Although she projected an air of calm, he knew she was anxious and uncertain. Little wonder, considering everything that had happened to her over the past few days. That kiss back in the second-hand shop probably wasn’t helping the situation for her. It sure as fuck wasn’t helping Razor to keep his head screwed on straight.
Damn, how he wanted her.
