While I was debating, a text message arrived. Instinctively I clicked to open the message. It was nothing but a long series of numbers. Weird.
Curious and happy the dark hid my nosiness, I scrolled through the other messages. There were five or so, and a few were like the last, random numbers. But the oldest one was actual words. It read, "Good. Punch Snap."
Super weird. What the hell did "Punch Snap" mean? Some kind of police code? Two flashes of memory hit me simultaneously. The tall man at the warehouse who'd made that strange gesture with his fist and then snapping his fingers. And Sam, later, doing almost the exact same thing.
What did that mean? It could be a coincidence, but that certainly wasn't a common gesture. And the text message certainly seemed to reference it. But that didn't make any sense. How could there be a connection between Sam and that man? There couldn't. It was ridiculous.
Still assuring myself of that, I clicked over to the sent messages. There was only one. And from the timestamp, Sam had sent it before all the rest were received.
The words I read made my knees go weak and my vision swim. I had to scan it three times to make sure I understood. "With target. Buying time. Advise."
"Target?" That had to be me. But cops don't describe the witnesses they protect and girls they date as targets. A sense of cold dread filled me and I shivered.
Little things that didn't make sense started to add up. The picture in the puzzle began to clear. Sam had told me about his undercover operation, but maybe he'd gone deeper than he'd admitted. It explained how he was so sure what Mitchell was doing was related to the larger case. And why he'd followed me to the warehouse. If he had.
I never saw that man's face. And even remarked he was around Sam's size. It could have been him. So easy to circle the warehouse and get behind me while I was creeping up carefully. The idea was too horrifying to believe, but it also seemed so right. Like a tune barely heard, finally recognized.
Choking back a sob I shut the phone off and closed it. Minutes before I'd been amused by the continued existence of flip-phones, and now I was going to be ill.
I clutched my stomach, mind reeling.
"Finished snooping?"
I spun around. Sam was sitting up in bed, eyes trained on me, and not a bit of playfulness in his voice.
"I-I just…"
"It doesn't matter," he said shaking his head. Even in the dark I can see right through you."
My gaze slid over to the door of the motel room as all my instincts told me to flee.
"You wouldn't make it to the parking lot," he promised evenly.
"Sam." My voice was quivering and weak.
"Run if you must, Carly. I enjoy a good chase."
Knowing if I paused to ponder the implication in those words I might collapse completely, I let my body do what it wanted. I bolted for the door, not caring that I was naked except for a t-shirt and barefoot.
My hand was sliding the safety latch open when Sam reached me.
I screamed.
A Note from the Author
Thank you so much for reading One Night More. Carly and Sam's adventure will continue soon. If you want to be one of the first to read the next book, please go to my website, www.clarabayard.com, and enter your email address to join the announcement list.
Also, I love hearing from readers to feel free to send me an email at [email protected] and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible.
And finally, if you enjoyed this book please consider leaving a review.
- Clara
Books in This Series:
#1 One Night Stand (now available)
#2 One Night More (now available)
#3 One Last Night (coming soon)
Also by Clara Bayard
Rocked
Rocked On the Road
Rocked to the Core
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www.ClaraBayard.com
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One Night More (BBW Romantic Suspense) (One Night of Danger) Page 7