Page 92 of Her Passionate Hero

“You forgot the most important thing.”

“What?” she asked.

“You forgot to mention I’m going to be part of your future. Now, let’s get some clothes on you and order some pizza. If I can’t have one appetite fed, then we’re feeding my other one.”

She let out a peal of laughter.

God, he was in love with Aliana Mila Novak.

Chapter Thirteen

After the call from Dalton, Hunter got on his bike and headed toward downtown. On a Saturday night, heading toward downtown L.A., traffic was still a bitch. But Hunter took advantage of the law that let him lane split and dodged in between the cars. He made great time down to the hotel. He pulled up to the valet.

When he got to the front of the line, a white guy looked him up and down. “I’m sorry Sir, we don’t park motorcycles here at the Valet. Are you a guest?”

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“You’ll need to park in our underground garage. Just follow the curve down to the right.” The young man pointed him in the correct direction. Hunter drove his bike slowly, surveying all the valet attendants as he went. It wasn’t until he was almost to the garage that he saw a young Hispanic man running up from the garage stairs. He’d bet his bottom dollar it was Rafael.

Hunter took the ticket to get into the garage, parked on the bottom floor near the valet section, far enough away so his bike wouldn’t be dinged by any other cars, and took the stairs two at a time up to the lobby. Dalton was relaxing on one of the couches talking to a striking older woman. He had managed to fit into the exclusive environment, even in jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. Dalton spotted Hunter immediately and excused himself and came over to him.

“Did you see our guy?” he asked.

“Think so. Cross tattoo showing a little on his right hand?” Hunter asked.

“That’d be him.”

“How d’you find him?”

“Scoped out the apartment building Nicolas mentioned. Figured he’d be working on a Saturday night. Looked for any kid wearing pants other than jeans. He made it easy because he was carrying his valet jacket on a hanger. He took the train. I followed him.”

Hunter grinned. That was Dalton, always thinking. “How should we play it?”

“I say question him now. He’ll be more apt to talk if he needs to get rid of us to save his job.”

Not a bad plan.

They took the stairs down to the level where the valeted cars were parked. Hunter stepped out first. There were plenty of pillars between the door and the entrance ramp where he could hide. “Wanna stay here?” he asked Dalton.

“Yep.”

“I’ll head over there,” he pointed to a spot close to the down ramp.

The first car that pulled in was driven by the same valet who had told him where to park. The young man eased the BMW into a space close to the stairs.

“Shit. Fuck. Piss.” Hunter swore under his breath, then he texted Dalton.

Incoming.

When the valet opened the door to the stairs thirty seconds later, there was no sign of Dalton. A white Mercedes AMG came down the ramp rounding the corner at a fast clip. Hunter saw only dark hair driving by, and he watched it go to the far wall. He saw a door to what he assumed was the maintenance closet open. He crouched low and moved fast, keeping in the shadows.

“They’re staying two nights. They left their house keys on the ring. Their address is listed on some mail in the glovebox. Quick, Mateo, take an imprint of the keys,” Rafael said in Spanish to a young Hispanic man.

Another car pulled in, the headlights caught Hunter.

“Fuck,” Mateo said in Spanish. He pulled out a gun and fired at Hunter, then ripped Rafael out of the Mercedes and threw him to the ground. He got into the high-performance sports car and squealed backward behind the Escalade that had just pulled into the garage, then did a one-eighty. Hunter couldn’t get off a shot without hitting the big black vehicle. He ran around it, but by that time the Mercedes was going up the ramp.

Dalton ran out of the stairwell, his gun drawn.