Tires on gravel.
An engine cutting off.
Car doors closing with careful quiet.
Her body sang with tension, sharp needles of energy that zinged down to her fingertips. She crossed to the window and risked a glance through the gap in the curtains.
A dark sedan lurked at the far side of the parking lot beneath an overgrown cedar. Not the rental SUV Gabe had been driving. Two large, dark figures detached from the shadows, heading across the parking lot with purpose.
Straight toward her.
No. No, no, no.
The window was too far. She'd never make it out and away before whoever it was reached the door.
She had seconds.
Cara spun and darted toward the closet. Bifold doors, half-open. She yanked them wider and slipped inside.
Her shoulder collided with something solid.
Warm.
Human.
She sucked in enough air to scream.
A hand clamped over her mouth before an arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her backward against a solid chest. She tried to struggle, but the grip was iron. Her training kicked in automatically—stomp, elbow, twist—but she was pinned too tightly in the cramped space.
"Don't." The word was barely a breath against her ear. Male. Familiar. "It's me. Sawyer."
Her body went rigid with recognition.
He'd been in the closet the whole time.
The motel room door opened with a soft click.
Footsteps entered. Slow. Deliberate.
8
Darkness.The smell of mothballs and old leather. A woman's body pressed against his chest, her heartbeat hammering so hard he could feel it through both their jackets.
Gabe kept his hand firmly over her mouth, his other arm locked around her waist.
Cara Sweet. In Ruiz's motel room. Breaking and entering.
Searching.
The shock of it hit him in waves. Why? How did she even know about this place?
She'd stopped struggling the moment he'd whispered his identity, but tension radiated from every muscle. Fight or flight instincts barely held in check.
Anger burned hot in his chest. She was connected to this. Obviously.
Footsteps moved through the room outside the closet. Two sets. Heavy. Male. Not bothering to be particularly quiet now that they were inside.
"Check the bathroom." The voice was rough. Smoker's rasp. "He had to leave something."
