“I want you,” she purred, and touched him through his jeans.
“At least this time I only have to drive to the other side of the motel.”
They parked near the rear entrance. He grabbed the duffel bag she’d had him pack in case something came up, motioned to Pudge, then wrapped his other arm around her as they went through the door and waited at the elevator. They kissed the whole way up to their room on the third floor, only pulling away from each other so they could open the door.
Inside, they quickly put out the pet bed for Pudge and got him water before reaching for each other again. They had their clothes off in record speed and—after removing the bedspread because she’d read a disturbing report on the internet—they fell together onto the bed.
They were both so needy it didn’t take them long to reach a mutual climax. They slowed down the second time, then stepped into the shower for round three.
They were walking out of the bathroom when Pudge alerted to the door only a few seconds before three loud thumps and a deep voice making the announcement, “Open up, police!”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Colton looked down at their dripping, naked bodies, and realized they’d committed an agent’s cardinal sin. Not the sex, but they’d not taken time to consider an escape plan. They were three stories up with only one door that led to an exit.
And now the police were standing outside, blocking that sole exit.
They were trapped.
Angel turned her large blue eyes on him and swallowed.
She looked ready to give up, but he wasn’t willing to let her go. Not without trying everything. They didn’t yet know what the police wanted. Maybe they still had a chance.
“Hide,” he whispered.
She pulled on her clothes even faster than he’d taken them off. But there was nowhere to hide—only a small closet and the bathroom. If the police were looking for a fugitive those would be the first places they checked.
“In case this doesn’t work,” Angel said before she kissed him quick. “I l—”
She was interrupted by more pounding at the door.
She gasped, rushed over to open the sliding door to the balcony, and went out.
“Shit,” he murmured, locked the glass door, and quickly wiped off the fingerprints. He draped his towel around his waist and ran a hand through his wet hair.
The police banged again and he opened the door, hoping this worked. He smiled, ready to charm them, but one of the officers stepped immediately into the room, his gun drawn.
“Step out in the hall,” he ordered as Pudge growled and barked.
“What’s going on?” Colton asked the officer in the hall who had his weapon trained on him.
Pudge growled again, and pranced around the first cop.
“Tell your dog to settle,” the cop ordered.
He told Pudge to quiet down. After a final bark of protest, he came and sat at Colton’s bare feet.
Colton crossed his arms and watched through the open door while the other officer, as expected, inspected the closet, the bathroom, and also looked under the bed.
As if Angel would have hidden there after her anxiety about the cleanliness of the bedspread. He would have laughed at the thought if he weren’t so worried about her.
The officer then unlocked the door to the balcony and went out. Colton had to fight every instinct not to react. He concentrated on staying calm and waited until the man was done and came back out in the hall.
“Where’s the woman?”
“What woman?” He knew if they were asking about a woman, it was because they were sure one existed. But he’d come up with a plan.
“Someone reported seeing a woman with you.”
He raised his brows. “Since when is that illegal?”
“Where is she?” the cop demanded again.
Colton narrowed his eyes. “She told me she was of age.”
The officer looked briefly confused.
“I didn’t have any reason to doubt her,” Colton continued, holding up one hand. The other was still keeping the towel securely closed. “Though, admittedly, I didn’t ask for ID.”
The officers exchanged a look. “We were told the woman in question was Angel Larson.”
Colton gave them his best look of bewilderment, and then enlightenment. “Wait. The woman wanted for murder?” He pretended to think, then shook his head. “The chick on TV had blond hair. The girl I was with had brown.”
Officer Kirkwood—according to his name badge—looked annoyed. “People dye their hair when they’re on the run.”
“If you say so.” Colton pursed his lips. “But I don’t think it was her. That Angel chick is hot. This girl was only so-so.”
Pudge whined at his lie.
“Where did she go?”
He shrugged. “No idea. She left when we, uh, finished.”
“She was a prostitute?”
“No!” Colton said, straightening with feigned offense. “I don’t need to pay for sex, thank you very much. I can still get women the old-fashioned way.”
“And where did you come by this one?”
The guy was not giving up. Colton had to check his annoyance.
“A bar down the street. We walked back here.” God, he hoped there was a bar down the street, and that it was busy enough that no one would remember if he’d been there. “Is this going to be a big deal? Because”—he looked around him and dropped his voice—“I have a girlfriend back in Crystal Grove.”
The officer frowned at him. “Get dressed, and come with us.”
Hell.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
On the balcony below theirs, Angel took a moment to curse her carelessness. She should have made sure they selected a motel with only one floor.
No. Scratch that. They shouldn’t have stopped at a motel, at all. They should have driven straight home.
It was too late to play the “should have” game now. They’d needed a pet-friendly motel, and this had been the closest one. Now she just needed to get away.
As she threw her leg over the railing, she worried about leaving Colton behind. Depending on how far the cops wanted to take this, they could check the room for fingerprints. And they would find hers. Colton would have a difficult time explaining that away. Along with her things in his room.
Hanging from the bottom of the second-floor balcony, she dangled in the air, then pumped her legs to get enough momentum to land on the patio below.
Towels were draped over the railing, so the room was occupied. She hoped no one heard her land, or worse, decided to come outside. The drapes were closed and no lights came on.
She allowed herself a moment to breathe as she ducked down against the wall.
A sliding door above opened, and she heard footsteps and a scuff as one of the cops most likely looked out over the railing, then turned to go back inside after finding nothing.
When the sliding door closed, she jumped down to the ground with a thump. Suppressing a grunt of pain, she rolled behind a bush where she could take a moment to think…or to pass out.
The pain in her ankle caused her vision to shimmer. Not a good time, she told her brain as she gave it a nice, deep breath of oxygen.
She stood, and nearly fell again. She didn’t need WebMD to know her ankle was sprained.
Too bad. She’d just have to deal with it. Escape was her top priority.
She stood again, and limped toward the parking lot as if she belonged there. Teeth gritted with pain, she ducked her head when she came across an elderly couple wheeling a suitcase toward her.
That was when she realized her tank top was on backward and inside out. It might not have been a problem if it hadn’t been a razorback tank. And her bra was neon pink.
Crap.
She cut between a truck and an SUV before she crossed paths with the seniors. Keeping her eye on the third-floor room where Colton was handling the police, she quickly rearranged her shirt, then hurried around the buildin
g.
The car belonging to the three college-aged assholes was her first pick when considering which car to steal. She was sure this was all their fault, and they shouldn’t be driving drunk, anyway.
The door was unlocked on the piece-of-shit coupe. Her initial search for spare keys turned up a few condoms and a baggie of pot. Not helping.
She kept watch on the building as her fingers moved under the dash to get to the wiring harness. A few seconds later, the car roared to life with all the decibels the modified muffler could choke out.
It was too late to change her mind now, Colton would only be able to stall the officers for so long, and they would be walking out the front door any minute.
She backed out and pulled away. No hotel curtains moved. She let out a sigh of relief.
But out on the highway, panic set in.
She was wearing a tank top, yoga pants, and sneakers. She had no money, no ID, no credit card, and no phone since she’d left all of that in the room. The crappy car she was driving had a little over a quarter of a tank. Not nearly enough to get her back to Colton’s.
Then again, maybe she shouldn’t go back to Colton’s.
The thought twisted in her stomach as she focused on the road. As much as she didn’t want to end their time together, she was nothing but a danger to him. Especially now. She would have to leave eventually, anyway. They both knew it.
She should have been prepared for this moment, but she wasn’t.
She could vividly recall his face from all the times he’d left the house or gone to sleep. The way he always told her, “If you’re not here when I get up, good luck, and take care of yourself.”
She wanted more than his good wishes. She wanted him. And she wanted to prove to him that she could stick around. That she didn’t need to keep running away from him.
But here she was, running away.
Colton had a life. It might not be as exciting as he’d like, but it was safe and respectable. It was far better than landing in jail for helping her.
Wait a second.
A memory flooded through her from when she’d left just a few minutes ago.
Had she almost told him she loved him?
Only now when she was out of immediate danger did her brain allow her to look back instead of focusing on moving forward.
Sure enough, now that she thought about it, she’d almost told him she loved him right before running out onto the balcony. The banging on the door had interrupted her, but…surely he understood what she’d been about to say?
Had it been a near-death confession? She’d been in tighter spots than that and hadn’t blurted out crazy things before.
Maybe he didn’t realize what she’d been about to say. She’d really only gotten out the first letter. Maybe in all the excitement he would have forgotten.
After all, she’d almost forgotten, and she was the one who’d said it.
Turning north, she headed in the opposite direction of Colton’s place. He would probably be upset at first, but in end he would understand.
If he didn’t hate her for getting him involved, he would at least be glad to have his freedom back. He could stay in any motel he wanted and not care if there was an exit. He could date Danielle and go parking in cars. He could have backyard cookouts with the neighbors.
She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about the situation. All she knew was, the best she could do for him now was to walk out of his life.
“Goodbye, Colton,” she whispered as she merged onto the interstate, her heart quietly breaking.
Chapter Eighty
When the police brought up the footage from the elevator, Colton was sure he was screwed, but fortunately their passion paid off. With his face stuck to Angel’s, her appearance was hidden enough she wasn’t identifiable. The angle of the camera only showed her back and his hands on her ass.
“What’s that?” One of the detectives pointed toward the screen.
Colton thought he might vomit. He leaned closer to see what the man was pointing at.
“A tattoo,” the other man said. “I’ll zoom in on it.”
It was the fake tattoo Angel had put on her shoulder for the wedding. A tree. Oh, thank God. This might be the break Colton needed.
“Um. It’s a tree. I saw it when I was…you know…behind,” he offered with a crooked grin.
“Does Angel Larson have a tree tattoo on her shoulder?” the detective asked another officer holding her wanted poster.
“It says no tattoos. Multiple scars.”
“Did this woman have scars?” the detective asked Colton.
“Not that I saw.” This was true. He didn’t see her scars anymore. They were such a part of her, he didn’t notice them. “She had a lip ring. I know because it got caught on my junk. You want to see?” Colton reached for the button on his jeans and all the cops put up their hands.
“No. That’s okay. I think we’re done here.”
“So it wasn’t her?” He frowned. “Well, shit. That would have been a hell of a story to tell my friends.”
“You’re free to go, Mr. Willis. I’ll have someone drive you back to your motel.”
“Okay. Thanks.” When Colton stood, Pudge jumped up from his spot in the corner where he’d been snoring.
Colton kept his pace casual as he waved to the officer who’d dropped him off. Inside the motel, he pushed the floor number six times in a row in an effort to make the elevator hurry.
“Please let her be there, please let her be there,” he chanted as he swiped the keycard with shaking hands.
The door opened and he hurried out to the balcony.
Nothing.
“Angel?” he called as he checked the bathroom. It only took ten seconds to verify she wasn’t there, either.
“Come on, boy.” He took Pudge back outside and told him to find Angel. The shepherd’s nose went up in the air, then down to the ground as he moved around the building on a mission. He stopped at the place where Colton had parked earlier when he went inside to get the room.
“Find her, boy. Please find her.”
Pudge turned in a circle, barked, and sat down. This was where the trail stopped.
Damn it.
She was gone.
Chapter Eighty-One
Angel let her forehead fall to the steering wheel as the stolen car drifted to the side of the road and sputtered out its last offering before it ran out of gas. Well, at least she’d had the good luck to get off the highway first.
She was now on a remote back road in the forests of deepest, darkest Oregon. Remote meant there weren’t a lot of options for stealing another car. Remote meant nothing but trees for miles and miles.
She looked down at her ankle and frowned. It had swelled up to double its normal size from the sprain. Walking would be slow going.
Dawn was coming. She wasn’t sure if this was on the pros or cons list.
She stared into the dark trees. Her best bet would be to walk parallel to the road so she wouldn’t be seen by passing cars. Hell, if anyone else even used this road.
Walking in the woods with a sprained ankle nearly guaranteed it would only get worse. And more painful. As it was, it throbbed like the devil.
Hitchhiking was out of the question. Her lack of supplies and money were as good as wearing a T-shirt that said, “I’m a fugitive on the run!”
With a groan, she hobbled to a downed log near the car and rested her head in her hands. As dire as her situation was, she found herself worrying about Colton. Had he been arrested for helping her? Was he being watched? Would he be exposed in the news, so Viktor Kulakov would find him?
This was exactly where she hadn’t ever wanted to be. She couldn’t help Colton, and she couldn’t help herself. If she didn’t know it wouldn’t help, she might have broken down and cried.
As it was, she let out a frustrated, disgruntled sigh and stood. She’d come this far. She wasn’t giving up yet.
Until the cuffs were on her wrists—or a bear ate her—
she still had a fighting chance.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Colton was being followed. It wasn’t as obvious as the white sedan with the floppy windshield stripping. It had started out as more of a feeling of paranoia as he and Pudge got into the truck that morning and left the motel. But after a few miles of trailing him, the SUV hanging several cars back was impossible to miss.
He had a clue about Angel, at least. At the continental breakfast this morning, three college boys had been whispering about their missing car. It sounded like they’d been to a party last night and couldn’t remember where they’d left it. They’d been debating the challenges of reporting it stolen when it had drugs inside.
The owner obviously wanted his vehicle back, but one of the other boys had enough money to get them bus fare back to Seattle. When they finally agreed that was the best thing to do, they’d eaten every stitch of bacon on the buffet, then left.
If his hunch was correct, Angel had stolen their car. If he was wrong and they truly were that stupid, it meant she was wandering around this small town with no way to get back home.
Either way, it was impossible to look for her with law enforcement tailing him.
His only option was to drive straight home and hope she turned up after the people in the SUV behind him gave up.
“How long do you think it will take for them to give up?” he asked Pudge, who didn’t have an answer. He simply whined and put his head out the window again.
When they arrived home early that afternoon, Colton took the bag of her things and stashed it in the hiding place under his closet floor. He took a few moments to wipe down the house again, even though she’d done it before they left.
He did laundry, and tried to act normal as he waited for whoever had been following him to make contact. Was it the cops from the motel? Or that obnoxious Special Agent Markel, or one of his buddies from the feds? Probably not anyone from Task Force Phoenix. They’d just have knocked on his door.
He invited Kenny out for ice cream the next day. He wanted an excuse to get out of the house, but he wanted to talk to him, too. The SUV was still there, following at a discreet distance.
Wanted for Life Page 20