Jameson laughed, then leaned back into Gray’s arms. “We can figure something out, right?”
Gray’s brain started racing. His plan with the motorcycle helmet made sense if they were driving at night and hiding out in a cheap motel, but not if Jameson wanted to keep travelling. And as much as Gray knew he could keep him safe back at the mansion, beyond that, he wasn’t so sure.
His phone rang out, and he reached across the bed to grab it. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “My uncle.”
“Your boss?”
“That’s him. I should take this.” He jumped to his feet as he answered and started pacing around the room. “Hey, Uncle Declan. What’s new?”
“How’s the Red Cedar Motel this time of year?”
Gray froze in place, a chill icing down his spine. “How did you know where we are? Are we on the news?”
“No, you fucking knucklehead. I had my boyfriend track your phone.”
“What? Why did you do that?”
“Because I knew you were going to do something like this!” Gray held the phone away from his ear while his uncle yelled for a second, cursing up a storm.
“Is he mad?” Jameson whispered.
Gray shook his head. “Just a little grumpy this morning,” he whispered back. “He’s no good before his coffee.”
“Do you understand what that means?” Declan barked, his voice finally calm enough that Gray could put the phone back to his ear. “If Seb can find your location so easily, so can other people.”
“What?” Gray asked. “That’s not true. No one even knows who I am.”
“Maybe. But with the stories flashing through the newspapers about you two right now? And both of you have location sharing turned on through your phones. Do you know how easy that was for Seb to hack? God help us if anyone figures out who Jameson’s horny bodyguard is, too!”
Gray thought to the motel room, which he had put on his card. “Aw, fuck.”
“Listen,” Declan said. “You’re not toast yet, but if anyone tracks you two to a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere, you’ll be in a world of pain. Do you have a safe ride to get yourselves out of there?”
Gray glanced at the door and thought about the parking lot on the other side, where the pink motorcycle waited. “Kind of.”
There was a long pause. Then Declan sighed. “Tell me what vehicle you took.”
“Raiden dropped off one of the motorcycles for us.”
“Is it the pink one, Gray? The stolen pink motorcycle? Are you telling me you took that goddamn stolen pink motorcycle!”
“Raiden got a fake license plate for it,” Gray said defensively. Although, now that he was explaining it to his uncle, he had to admit, it wasn’t the best plan.
“Do you need me to come?” Declan asked, his voice firm. “Get you out of this?”
Gray cleared his throat. “No, we’re fine.” He turned back to Jameson, who was looking at him expectantly. If things got any worse, he wouldn’t hesitate to call Declan back. But more than anything, he wanted to be the one who kept Jameson safe. It was his job to make the miracle between them to last.
“I got it,” he said. “I swear. Thanks for the heads up, Uncle Declan.”
No sooner had Gray set down his phone than Jameson received a call. While Gray paced, trying desperately to think up a plan, Jameson listened to his frantic publicist rant. Ten minutes later, he finally convinced her that he was fine and that she could handle the PR crisis on her own, and he and Gray were collapsed back on the bed together.
“Bad news,” Gray said. “We can’t stay in the motel. Declan was able to track us here.”
“Oh,” Jameson said. “That is bad news. While we’re on the subject, my publicist says not to expect things to quiet down anytime soon.”
“We have to get rid of the bike, too,” Gray blurted out. “Sorry.”
The each turned on the bed, facing each other. Jameson blinked a few times, and his eyelashes had a yellow tinge when they fluttered. “Gray,” he said, “we never should have answered our phones.”
