But, now, before him…
She retreated. Another fast step back.
Too bad for her, he wasn’t letting her get away. Not this time. Not ever again. His hand slid out and curled around her wrist.
She hissed out a breath.
Immediately, he let her go. Because he knew the sound of pain when he heard it. “I…hurt you?”
“Damn right, you did.” A fast response. “We were friends, you jerk. Don’t ever say that we weren’t! For a time, you knew me better than anyone else on the entire planet. And then everything changed. You changed.” She pointed to the motorcycle. “Can we get going? Trust me, I am grateful for the save tonight. I seriously owe you my life, but I want to get out of here.”
He climbed onto the motorcycle. She slid on behind him. Her hands curled around his waist as he got the engine snarling to life.
“And it was not very gentlemanly to point out the whole virgin and screaming part,” she said, sniffing.
He laughed. “Sweetheart, I was never a gentleman.” But I am one damn fine killer. And I will keep you safe from the bastard on your trail. “Hold tight,” he told her, and then they raced into the night.
“You’re falling asleep.”
Her eyes opened. Groggily. Slowly.
“We’re stopping for the night. It’s either stop or tie you to my body so you don’t fall off the bike, and I think the better option is to stop, don’t you?”
She craned her head, trying to look around Nash and figure out where in the world they were.
VACANCY.
Her gaze caught the blinking, red sign near the glass window of what appeared to be a check-in office. An office of one seriously shady motel. Shady because rooms were advertised as being available for the night or for the hour.
“Where are we?” she muttered.
“Stay on the bike. When I go in, I will be able to see you every moment.”
Uh…
He was already off the bike. Marching toward the check-in office. Her gaze darted around the lot. No one else was out. What time was it? It felt as if they’d driven forever, but she knew they’d probably only been on the road a matter of hours. Four hours? Five? And had they gotten out of North Carolina and made it to somewhere else that would be much, much safer for her?
He came back. Walking all casually and confidently. He slid in front of her, and she tried to ignore the surge of awareness she felt every single time they touched. The bike revved to life, and she felt the vibration all through her body.
Yes, she’d been sleepy. How could she not be? She’d been close to collapsing, but she’d doggedly held on to Nash, and, fine, she was glad they were stopping. Even if their stop was taking them to a no-tell motel.
It was better than nothing.
They could rest for a few hours. Maybe she’d call Agnes when the sun rose. And then she’d go to the Feds, and she’d get help, and Nash could go back to his life.
She’d go back to her life.
He didn’t pull the motorcycle in front of any particular room. In fact, he hid the Harley behind a large, green dumpster. And then he took her hand, holding her fingers in his bear-like grip, and led her to room number seventeen.
A light flickered on and off near the door to their room.
She swallowed as she watched him slide the keycard over the sensor to unlock the door. “Is this going to be one of those one-bed situations?”
His head turned toward her.
The light near the door came on.
She saw his handsome face. The strong lines. The chiseled jaw. The cheekbones that were to die for.
