Durant gave her a look. “Just don’t make me regret my generosity. And check your mattresses for bedbugs.”
—
One cruiser waited in the parking lot while they went into the motel office. It was nicer than Peter had hoped, with paint recent enough that he could still smell it. The clerk was an older guy with acne scars, a bow tie, and a handheld video game on the counter by the computer.He was entirely uninterested in his customers, which was exactly how Peter liked it. He paid for two rooms with cash, including a large refundable deposit, which left about eighty bucks in his wallet.
The clerk handed them the keys. “First floor, halfway down. No loud parties, please. Enjoy your stay.”
The rain had stopped. They found the rooms and Peter got KT and Ellie inside, then raised his hand to the cruiser. The officer nodded through the windshield and backed the car into a spot a few doors down.
Peter stepped into his room, threw the deadbolt and put on the chain, then pulled the curtains over the picture window. The place was basic but clean. Two queen beds with a nightstand between them, a particleboard dresser with a small TV bolted to the top. The white static flared slightly at the covered window, but he would live with it. His chest still ached where the plate had stopped the bullet. He dropped his duffel on the dresser, then opened the connecting door on his side. KT’s side was already open.
She lay on the bed with her shoes off and her daughter curled up against her. He was glad to see she’d pulled the curtains and locked the door, too.
“We were thinking pizza,” she said. “El likes Pagliacci.”
Suddenly Peter was starving. “Excellent plan. Get two larges, whatever toppings you guys like. Give them my room number and tell them we’ll pay cash. And use Ellie’s cell, just in case.”
Ellie leapt up and woke her phone, fingers flying as she ordered online. KT turned to Peter, her voice low. “Are you seriously concerned that there might be someone else after us? Even with the patrol car outside?”
Peter wasn’t going to tell her about the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the threat letter.We are Legion. There was no reason to scare them. “I’m just being cautious. We’re probably fine. Humor me, okay?”
The way KT stared at him, he knew she wasn’t buying it. “Ellie, I need to tell you something important. Are you listening?” Her voice was serious, a mom who meant business.
Ellie looked up from her screen. “I’m listening.”
“If anything happens to me, if we get separated for any reason? You can trust Peter. You stick with him like glue, and you do exactly what he tells you to do, no matter what. Do you understand?”
Ellie blinked, her voice small. “What would happen to you?”
KT reached out and put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Nothing, honey. I’m saying, just in case. You can trust Peter. Do you understand?”
Ellie nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Now how long until that pizza gets here?”
Ellie glanced at her phone. “Forty minutes.” Her eyes flicked to Peter. “I hope you like meatballs.”
He remembered her calling him “meatball” at her school. Now she was riffing on that, messing with him. Despite his own concerns and KT’s warning to her daughter, he felt something loosen in his chest. She’d be okay.
“Are you kidding? Meatballs are my favorite.” He turned to KT. “I’m going to get cleaned up and call June.” Although he’d texted her several times since the cops had shown up, he owed her a call. “Leave the connecting door open, okay?”
—
After a long, hot shower and toweling himself dry, Peter examined the bruise on his chest where the bullet had hit his vest. It was deep purple and tender to the touch. It wasn’t his first time taking a round to the armor, and he knew it would be sore for several days. But he also knew he’d live, so he pulled on clean hiking pants and a Counterbalance Brewing T-shirt, found his phone on the sink, and called June.
She answered on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” He walked into the bedroom and dropped himself on the bed. “Sorry it took so long. The cops kept us awhile.”
“I knew they would. Are you doing okay?”
Peter felt his defenses fall away, as they always did with her. “I’m still standing,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound good.” She knew him so well. “Talk to me, Marine.”
He’d already given her the basics over text. Now he walked her through the whole story, the amateur in cheap sneakers waiting at KT’s car, picking up Ellie at school on foot, the amateur—Geoffrey Reed—reappearing at Peter’s pickup, shooting Peter in the chest but hitting the armor. Then the scramble to escape.
“The guy was wound pretty tight. I was worried about KT and Ellie, and about civilians catching a stray round. But I should have been more aggressive.”
