by Wylder Stone
He hit the steering wheel and shouted, “Dammit,” causing her to jump, allowing the sobs to escape her. Owen was furious and even murderous when he thought about what could have happened. What if he had been a bit longer on his run? What if Jackson hadn’t called when he did? What if he had gone right instead of left, leading him to the salon?
They were only a few city blocks from her. They were asking about her. They almost got to her first.
7
A thick tension filled the car and was nearly intolerable. They had been driving over an hour, jumping from one highway to the next, burning through city after city, crossing counties as fast as they could. Leaving Corner Creek, Utah, as far behind as they could and fast.
Owen hadn’t said a word and had the same white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and clenched jaw that he did the minute they left. The only words he shared were with his brothers to let them know he had her, and they were out of town. He gave them brief instructions, as well as descriptions of the men, and that was the end of the call.
She struggled with her emotions. First, there was fear that Cesar was looking for her. It meant he suspected she was indeed still alive. It also meant he might suspect she was the star witness against him if his connections ran as hight as Owen said they did. If he’d found her she could lie and say she’d been held against her will and grateful he saved her in a effort to save her own ass and send him after another crime family of his choosing for revenge. But if he knew about the case being built against him? Her role in that? There was nothing but a body bag with her name on it.
She was stumped though. Stumped on the how of it all. How did they know where to look? And why now?
Then there was guilt. Trista had made Owen so angry, and he was right to be. She was so smitten and excited about her evening out that she hadn’t thought the thing through. A quick walk into town for a new dress turned into an afternoon of attempted pampering. Even if she had left a note, the situation wouldn’t have changed. The enemy was still on the prowl, hunting, and Trista was about to walk right into their grips.
Anger. She was so angry with herself, Cesar and his associates, and even Owen. Bad judgment on her part? Sure. Trista should have left a damn note. But it wasn’t her fault that trouble was in town, and she certainly didn’t lure them intentionally.
Owen, however, had the emotions of a rock and the temper of a hot pepper. The roller coaster of let’s be friends and I almost kissed you and get in the fucking car was more than Trista had in her to deal with. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this meant Cesar was coming out of hiding, and this would be over soon.
She was sad to leave the place that was starting to feel a little like home. It was also where Trista finally started to figure out who she was, which was someone she admired and was proud of. But it was also the place where her relationship had begun and abruptly ended, given the demeanor of the man sitting next to her.
Raking his hand through his hair as he had every few minutes the past hour, Owen abruptly pulled the car to the right and took the next exit off the freeway and through a random city. Surely this wasn’t their next stop because they weren’t nearly far enough away. They should keep driving like they always did.
Trista noticed Owen’s scowl and the reddening of his face. His sharp turns and reckless weaving between cars had her gripping her seat. The bustling city had turned into a desolate industrial area. After one final sharp turn between two tall brick buildings that had seen better days, he finally parked and stormed out of the car.
His dark eyes full of fury never left hers as he moved around the front of the car and opened her car door. Trista reluctantly removed her seat belt and stepped out of the car. He grabbed her by both arms and backed her against the cold, rough brick wall, pinning her there.
His body was pressed hard against hers. Owen leaned in and kissed her.
Both were breathless after breaking the kiss that had been building for months. Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes and let go of her arms. His large hands were wrapped around her small waist.
“I was so worried, Tris. I thought…” His voice quaked in an uneasy, shaken timbre.
“Shhh…I’m sorry.” She whispered.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“For what? What could you possibly be sorry for?” she asked.
Watching his features, looking deep into his eyes, Trista was trying to decide which Owen she was dealing with. It was beginning to look like a side she’d yet to see – one of deep passion and vulnerability.
“For wanting you. I tried to ignore it, to fight it, and even convinced myself I could avoid you somehow, but I can’t. Just this afternoon, I decided I needed to push you away, keep distance between us and keep things business. But I can’t, not after thinking I lost you like that. I can’t quit you, Tris. The worst part is I have to – we have to. I can be your friend but I can’t be anything more or I’m going to end up getting you killed.”
Words she had been wanting to hear for months were finally falling in front of her, and Trista could hardly take the sound of them because they were chased with heartbreak.
“Owen…”
“Falling for you is unprofessional, irresponsible, and so damn dangerous. It will get us both killed. Today, when I couldn’t find you…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, unable to finish the thought. “I just want to be selfish with you. We’ll figure out how it all works as we go, but – I just want to be selfish But until it’s safe.”
“Then be selfish, Owen. I trust you. I know you won’t let anything hurt me.”
“It isn’t that simple, Trista.”
“Then let’s not worry about when. Let’s just worry about right now, day by day.”
He cupped her chin, his expression torn. Owen knew what he should say and should do. He pulled her away from the brick wall and helped her back in the car.
He seemed much calmer, relaxed, and all of the angst he was exuding was gone. Like a weight had been lifted. That was the most emotion Owen had ever expressed. The answer to the many moods had just been revealed. He was fighting against them the only way he knew how. Now, he was fighting for them.
“Let’s see if we can find a salad to-go in this town,” he said as he climbed into the car and pulled back onto the road.
“I’d rather have a burger,” Trista said with a shrug.
He grabbed her hand and held it in his while he drove, it was like he needed to know he’d found her, she was safe, and they were both out of danger. For now.
8
Weeks of running and staying in a new seedy motel off the beaten path, every few days, began to wear on them. They were off the grid again. Not even Owen’s brothers knew where they were, nor could they trace them.
Jackson and James had been working diligently, trying to pinpoint the leak that led Cesar to Owen and Trista, to no avail. They had been staying in one of their own safe houses. Not even the agency was aware of the homes the Forces had and used for Elite Force. It didn’t make sense.
Cesar had someone on the inside, and that’s why Cesar’s men ended up in Corner Creek. Owen didn’t trust the agency, but he did trust his team. They had been together for years, been through hell and back. They were a tight brotherhood and were loyal to one another. Perhaps it was someone else in the agency. Maybe someone from his team inadvertently said something that could lead them to Owen and Trista. The only problem with that theory? Not even his close, loyal team knew about the safe houses that the Forces had and used, nor had they been in contact.
The more they searched for leads and dug into the agencies files and mainframe system, the more it seemed like they were involved, but how? And who? Owen had a lot of enemies. It was a trade hazard, but none had the resources to flood him out like that – the agency, however, did. Blackmail or money could get any one of those bastards to turn on him. If Cesar found out, somehow, that they were all still alive, they would be worth a lot of fucking money.
&nb
sp; Until they knew where the threat was coming from, and who was working with Cesar, Owen could only rely on his brothers. Though Elite Force was like a vault that even the world’s best hackers couldn’t crack, they had a motto of never say never. Because of that – not even Owen’s brothers could know where they were, where they were going, or what their next move would be. So for now, Owen would check in with them every twenty-four hours using the burner phone system.
Though they weren’t using the safe houses anymore, the brothers were watching each location to see if Cesar’s thugs would come looking. And they did. They hit each one. Owen and Trista stayed as far from those houses as possible. Someone knew too much, and they were selling out the wrong family. It wouldn’t end well for whoever that double-crossing traitor was.
Cesar’s men weren’t giving up. That meant that the Forces had to assume they knew Owen was alive, which meant Trista was alive, too. If she was alive and running, common sense said Trista knew something. Cesar wanted to know what, hence the heavy search. Despite his men crawling everywhere, Cesar himself never resurfaced. He was smart. He knew someone had eyes on his people, and it was only a matter of time before they had him marked, too.
Being on the run this time, without a safe house to turn to, meant they were never in one place long enough to do anything but late-night workouts on a random high school track to stay on top of their game and of course, to sleep. Though opportunity presented itself often, Owen remained a gentleman. Trista was better than a pay by the hour shady motel. He didn’t want to build something cheap. The risk was too great, and it needed to be worth it if they ever crossed that line.
So, despite Owen’s wants, despite his needs, despite that hair of disappointment he sensed when all he did was hold her at night when she cried, he didn’t touch her. Not the way he wanted to or the way she needed him to. It was evident both wanted more, but for now, they’d live off that one smoldering kiss and the many they’d had since. Right now they just needed to stay alive.
Extra long runs. Intense hand to hand combat while he taught her more than basic self-defense. It still wasn’t enough. Emotions between them combined with a maniacal man hunting them made for a hard journey. Something had to give.
Owen was going to do something about it. While Trista showered, Owen made a few phone calls.
9
Another day and a half on the road led them somewhere new. Each town and ten dollar an hour hotel looked the same. The places ran together like the days and weeks had. Until today. They exited the freeway and drove right into a thriving city rather than the small town no one ever heard of that they were used to.
This wasn’t a blink and you’ll miss it kind of place. Tall buildings surrounded them, people everywhere, and traffic. Real traffic. The kind where your signal light can turn green and you don’t move an inch. Traffic!
“Owen, what are we doing here?” Trista asked, confused by the change in routine. “Just changing freeways or something?”
“Nope.” He smiled but didn’t bother to elaborate. She would have her answer in another city block or two.
When Owen slowed and made another turn, it all came into view. The Las Vegas strip. He pulled into the valet of a swanky hotel and casino that had her attention. Trista’s eyes went wide as he pulled right up to the valet podium. When a man approached the car, she pulled down her visor to quickly check her appearance in the vanity mirror.
“Oh, my God, I look terrible. I can’t go in there!” She ran her hands through her hair and then pinched her cheeks for color.
Leaning over, he cupped her chin and directed her attention to him and him only. “You look beautiful. Always beautiful. Besides, look around. This is the one city you’ll see mansions mixed with trailers. It’s Vegas. It doesn’t discriminate. All are welcome, come as you are.”
Running her hand down his face, all Trista could do was smile. She didn’t know exactly why they were at this hotel, maybe for lunch or dinner, but she knew it was for her. He was thoughtful, and kind – that she had established – but Owen went out of his way to make her feel special, and a trip to this hotel, regardless of the reason, was no exception.
Her door opened, causing her to jump. She turned to see the extended hand of the bellhop, ready to help her out of the vehicle.
“Sorry about that, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you. Welcome to The Grand Meridien Hotel. How long will you be staying with us?” the young man asked.
She looked at Owen, who quickly came around the front of the car to her side.
“Just the night,” Owen said, offering a large bill to the kid as a tip. “I’ll go ahead and take those bags. Thanks.”
The bellhop’s eyes widened when he realized how much he had just been tipped. “Are you sure, sir? I mean, it’s my job. Happy to take those up for you when you’re checked in.”
“I’m sure,” Owen said with a smile and nod.
“Well, if you need anything, anything at all, you just call me. My name’s Teague You just ask for me, and I’ll take care of you!”
“Isn’t that the concierge’s job?” Trista joked.
“Yes, but when someone tips like this”—Teague smiled, waving the money in the air—“you can get just about anything you need…I haven’t even earned this yet! Well, you folks have a nice stay. Remember…Teague.”
Teague moved on to the next car that had just pulled in, leaving Trista and Owen to laugh.
“Well, you just made his day,” she said.
“Ehh, those kids are underpaid and overworked. People with money are the worst tippers, so I thought I’d do him a solid.”
Trista giggled and leaned in with a whisper, “I didn’t even know where we were. I wasn’t paying attention to the signs coming in since I didn’t know we were stopping. Why are we here?”
Owen whispered back, “Because it’s Las Vegas. Now grab my arm.”
As he walked to the large revolving entry, Trista was quick to stay at his side. She wasn’t sure what his plan was or what he said. She was still stuck on Las Vegas. “What did you say?”
“Grab my arm,” he said again, extending his elbow to her. She was happy to oblige. “Now smile and play along.”
Stunning wasn’t the word to describe the hotel lobby. It was more than that – it was grand, hence the name. Black-and-white-herringbone-patterned floors staged a canvas of luxurious glitz and pops of color. Elegant aubergine chandeliers lit the space, complementing the tufted crushed velvet couches that were only a shade darker. Matching circular seating, adorned with shiny stones that resembled large diamonds, hugged the modern gold pillars and divided the space, offering areas to sit and relax as well as the various amenity desks like check-in and concierge.
Large, stately, houndstooth-print chairs were scattered about as the simple touch that pulled it all together while the glass sculptures peppered the tabletops and empty corners, adding an elegant artful vibe that was pleasing to the eye. It was glamorous with a pop of Las Vegas flair.
Greeting them with a friendly smile, the nicely dressed man behind the counter turned his nose up in question, the gesture his way of asking a name.
“Mack Whittington,” Owen said in response.
“Ahhhh, Mr. and Mrs. Whittington. We’ve been patiently awaiting your arrival,” the man said with excitement.
Trista stiffened at the assumption they were married and straightened, ready to correct the man. Owen leaned in and kissed her temple before she could get a word out and blow their cover, leaving her in a swoony daze.
“We have the honeymoon suite set up and ready, just the way you asked.” From behind the counter Camby, according to his name tag, snapped his fingers at a nearby man in a uniform that coordinated with the rest of the staff. “Baron will be your butler. He is happy to assist you with your bags. I’m so sorry nobody has handled those for you yet.”
“Oh, Camby, don’t worry about it. Your guy, Teague, offered, and I declined. Good kid. You have a good worker on your hands,”
Owen offered with a slight twang to his voice. Camby seemed satisfied with the answer as his pouty frown became a beaming smile again.
Owen turned to Barron, who stood at the ready, anxious to carry the bags or whatever else they tossed at him. There was something to be said about the eager service. “I appreciate the offer, there, Barron, but I got these here bags just fine. Packing light, honeymoon and all. Now before you protest, I’d hate to embarrass ole Barron here when I carry my lady through that door and…well, you know.”
Once over the mortification, Trista smacked Owen’s arm, playing along. “Mack! I am so sorry my new husband lacks manners. Please accept my apology.”
Owen quickly turned them toward the before either of the men could say any more. Camby and Barron were grinning at the desk when Trista looked over at them from the elevator, just before the doors closed.
“Mister and missus? Embarrass Barron? Your lady? So much for being discreet and unassuming.” She laughed.
“Didn’t want to look like the world’s unhappiest newlyweds.” He stepped in front of her, pressing his body against hers, and kissed her. “And yes, you are my lady right now.”
“Do you think those are their real names?” she asked.
“Not even close. A butler named Barron is a little too convenient and Camby isn’t even a name.”
“You’re going to feel foolish if they turn out to be their real names.”
“This is one of the hotels we do security for – I know they aren’t their real names. I had everyone on staff the next twenty-four hours vetted.” He grinned.
She shrugged and shook her head, “Well, I guess we’re all playing a role tonight.”
The elevator's doors opened when they reached their floor. The area just outside the elevator was decorated as lavishly as the lobby and boasted a single door. Their door.