by Ellie Danes
I leaned back against the lumpy motel pillows but refused to close my eyes until Nathan settled down. He paced around, ate another slice of pizza, flipped through the local channels on the television, and then finally came to bed. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep the instant his arm snaked around my waist.
Cuddled in his arms was the first time I had felt safe all night.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nathan
I rolled out of bed as soon as I woke up. It was what Bree called 'brutally early' but I couldn't help it. Military habits die hard. So hard that after using the bathroom, I jogged in front of the mirror for ten minutes. Anything to get my heart pumping. I felt out of shape, still sore from whatever accident had knocked out my memory, and all I wanted was to get back to normal.
Just outside of the motel room bathroom was a small closet space where we had thrown our stuff. After the men had taken Bree, our stuff had dwindled down to her scuffed suitcase and the cheap duffle bag I had bought. A few cheap shirts from a thrift store and a decent pair of jeans laid on top of the fat rolls of cash I had pulled from the bank safety deposit box.
My mind raced, and I wished for the early morning runs I used to take around the Base. Long loops around Cannon would rack up the miles and slowly empty my mind of worries.
In the shabby motel room, I had to settle for push-ups.
Still, I couldn't get my mind to settle. We had our next lead, and I was anxious to find out more about Maggie Wheeler. I needed to know my connection to her case. I hoped to god that somehow, I could still help. And I prayed that the chill in my gut was not freezing out a horrible memory. The frustration drove me into another repetition of push-ups, and I kept going until my arms burned.
The only other thought my mind kept settling on was the cash. We were staying in cheap roadside motels but being on the run was expensive. Besides gas money and motel rooms, we had to eat and vending machine snacks didn't fill me up.
I knelt next to the duffle bag and shoved aside the stack of t-shirts. One roll of cash was untouched, with an insanely wide diameter. The other was slowly shrinking.
A cold, slithering thought crept into my head. What if the money belonged to the armed men? If they caught us and demanded it back, what would they do when they found us short?
I shoved the clothes back on top of the cash and zipped the bag shut. We were going to have to find a different way to handle our expenses.
Bree was still asleep, her head buried under the motel bed covers. I slipped back into the bathroom and found where she’d hung her purse on the back of the door. Somehow, she'd had the presence of mind to snatch it up when I rescued her from the armed men. They still had her driver's license, but there was a credit card in her wallet.
If she used it, there was a chance those men were tracking it. I didn't know anything about the cartel besides their professional appearance and persistence. Both led me to believe they would know how to search credit card records to track Bree.
Unless she made a few wild purchases and then declared the credit card stolen.
I plucked the card from her wallet and started to think about what crazy purchases we could turn into cash. Too bad I was a gambler, not a con man.
Gas was one thing. Our rusted-out used sedan had an enormous trunk, and we could fit a whole row of gas cans inside. Not the safest option but my mind was spinning. Being able to skip gas stations could help us when we got deeper into whatever was ahead of us.
I stopped and tossed the credit card back into Bree's purse. I was a hundred steps ahead of myself and had to calm down. Bree was right; there was no way my memory would return if my brain kept going in the same panicked circles.
I had to calm down. I looked at my watch and realized that any other human would go back to bed. It was a tantalizing idea, probably the best one I’d had all morning.
The covers slipped down off Bree's head as I slipped into the bed beside her. Her soft brown hair was getting streaks of blond from being on the road. Rest stops, parks, and picnic tables were all free, so we spent a lot more time outside than she had when she worked at the diner.
I shook my head. After all this was over, I couldn't imagine Bree returning to the diner. I wouldn't let her. She deserved so much more.
I brushed her hair off her cheek and felt a tremble in my hand. Bree was so beautiful. Even asleep, her expression was a mix of optimism and resilience. I traced her stubborn jawline; she ground her teeth when she was trying to get over something and take the next step. She always managed to keep moving. That was balanced by the small smile that played over her sweet lips even as she slept. Bree managed to smile no matter what.
I couldn't believe she was still with me. I needed her, and Bree was there for me.
I lifted my hand away from her face and clenched my fist. There was no reason to wake her so early. She was used to the late shift at the diner and grumbled about it every time I woke her up before nine a.m.
So, I put my head back down on my pillow and tried to get some more sleep. My muscles twitched and burned. My mind kept drifting back to the wads of cash, the worry about the armed men, and Bree's credit card. And Maggie Wheeler.
We had her last name. The woman we’d reached last night certainly seemed to know more than she'd said. We had a lead, and all I wanted to do was go. It was useless to try to lay still in the motel bed when my mind was already back on the road.
I slipped one hand over Bree's ripe hip and tugged her against me. Her soft hair tickled my cheek as I leaned over her and kissed the sweet spot beneath her ear. She murmured in her sleep, and her small smile widened.
"Bree, honey, it's early but we should get going," I whispered.
She stretched out her long legs, tangling them with mine, and then settled back in closer to me. I felt the press of her heat my body wherever we touched. I dropped another kiss on her neck and lingered against her delicious skin.
"Bree, we said we'd go first thing in the morning," I said. "Wake up, and I'll get you some coffee."
Bree gave a soft groan and nestled her backside closer to me. The friction electrified every nerve in my body. My hand drifted from her hip higher up her taut stomach. The thin t-shirt she slept in was no barrier as my hand slipped to the bottom of her soft breast.
"Can't we stay in bed a little longer?" Bree murmured. She shifted her body to let my hand have a clear path.
I cupped her breast and let my thumb tease her nipple. Bree wriggled with pleasure, her backside rubbing against me until I throbbed. I tasted her neck again, my hand flexing over her breast, my mind starting to shut down.
Bree rolled onto her stomach, and I followed, pushing open her legs as I positioned myself behind her. She arched up, allowing my hands to find both her breasts. I rubbed them, teased the nipples up to taut buttons, and felt myself grow hard against the backs of her thighs.
Then I groaned, pressed my hands back to the mattress, and backed off. "We really should go."
Bree turned over with a sleepy pout. "You promised me coffee."
I laughed and pushed off the bed. My body ached to plunge back under the covers, to press harder into Bree's hot body, but my mind was up and running again.
"First, I'm going to take a cold shower," I said.
Bree followed me and leaned against my back as she turned the water up to steaming hot. "How about I join you? It'll save time."
I felt her nipples against my back, her hand returning from the shower faucet to run up my stomach to my chest. Her fingers teased my chest hair and tested my muscles.
I stripped down and stepped into the shower. Bree followed, her lips crushing against mine as we got under the hot spray of water. I fumbled for the soap as Bree teased me with soft kisses. Soon her body was slippery with suds, and mine was surging with desire.
She stepped back from the kiss, letting me rub the soap down over her breasts. Bree moaned with pleasure and then pressed her body to mine. The soap bubbled up as she rubbed herself again
st me.
"Bree, I'm going to lose control," I said.
"Good."
She was slippery with soap but I gripped her arm and turned her around. Bree gasped with excitement and braced her hands against the tiled wall. I slipped a hand down her taut belly, and she opened her legs for me. My palm pressed against her mound, and she tipped her hips back to find me.
Then I pushed inside her, throbbing hard. Bree splayed her hands on the wall, pressing back against me, and I had to grab her hips for balance. I leaned over her, my head next to hers against the wall, and the water sprayed down over our pumping backs.
Bree shattered around me, her orgasm pulling me apart at the same time. I poured into her, hotter than the steamy shower spray, and we both collapsed against the cool tile wall.
When we were able to stand again, I bathed Bree. She smiled and sighed as I shampooed her hair then massaged every inch of her and rinsed her clean.
Finally, she opened her eyes, bright and awake, and said, "Good morning."
I laughed and rushed to scrub myself off as she stepped out of the shower. Bree was still naked, fiddling with the cheap motel room coffee maker, when I got out and grabbed a towel.
"I think I can buy you a cup of something better than that," I said.
"I've been thinking about that," Bree said. "Buying stuff, I mean. Are you sure you should be using that cash from the safety deposit box? You don't know where it came from or what it's for."
I tore my mind away from her bare body and scrubbed my hair with the towel. "I think you read my mind. First, though, we should talk about what we're going to say to Mrs. Wheeler."
Bree nodded and picked up a clean towel. "We've already called and freaked her out. Don't you think lying is just going to make her more suspicious?"
I threw my towel on the bathroom floor and caught Bree in a long kiss. "I'm really glad you're here," I said.
She smiled. "Me, too. Now let's go."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bree
The Wheeler house had peeling paint and a porch that sagged at the front steps. Nathan had driven there like a bat out of hell, but now he slowed down and cruised by.
"That was it," I said. "The one with the broken mailbox."
"I know," Nathan said. He kept driving to the far end of the block.
I grabbed the armrest of the old sedan and squeezed tight. "You're looking to see if those gunmen are around, aren't you?"
Nathan nodded and did a slow circle around the block. "So far, I don't see anything but a lower-middle-class neighborhood. Do you?"
I searched the overgrown lawns and the ramshackle detached garages. Everything looked quiet and calm. A few people shuffled to their mailboxes or got into their cars and left for work. Other than that, it was a peaceful morning.
"There are a few empty houses," I pointed out.
Nathan cruised us close by one of the for sale signs and we saw the foreclosure notices. "Empty. No signs of anyone disturbing it," he said.
I tried to relax but my nerves jumped. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should try calling her again."
Nathan shook his head and pulled the car to the curb outside the Wheeler house. "This is our best shot. What else can we do?"
I didn't want to admit it but Nathan was right. So, I shoved open my car door and stepped out into the quiet neighborhood. Nathan's creaking car door made me cringe as it broke through the peaceful morning. He slammed the door and headed over the dried lawn to the front sidewalk.
I caught up to him and grabbed his hand. "What are we going to tell her? Who should we say we are?"
Nathan squeezed my hand. "We already talked about this, Bree. It's best to be upfront. I'm never going to know anything about that photograph unless I show it to someone who might know the little girl. We have to do this."
I dragged my feet but Nathan didn't let go of my hand. He pulled me up the sagging front steps to the porch and knocked on the door. I ran my eyes slowly over the peeling paint, reluctant to get to the window.
"Maybe no one's home," I said. Then I saw the curtain move.
The thin, dirty lace dropped back into place and a long moment later the front door opened a crack. "What do you want?" a woman's voice called.
"Mrs. Wheeler?" Nathan asked. "We have a few questions about the girl in this photograph. Do you mind taking a look?"
A narrow eye peeked through the gap between the door and the chain lock. "You called last night," she said.
Nathan held up the photograph of Maggie. "Yes. This is the little girl. Do you know her?"
The woman's mouth knotted into a frown but her eyes settled on me, not the picture. "Who are you?" she demanded.
"I'm Nathan and this is Bree," Nathan said.
My stomach clenched as the woman just stared at us. Then she undid the chain and opened the door all the way.
"You're not cops," she said.
Nathan shook his head. "No, but we found this picture and think you might be able to tell us about the little girl."
The woman looked tired and disheveled. She leaned against the open door and sipped at a chipped mug of coffee. Then she crossed her arms in front of her and gave us another narrow look.
"You called me late last night and now you show up at my door." Her eyes still avoided the photograph that Nathan held up. "Not the nicest way to ask for help."
"We're sorry, we really are, but we're just passing through and you're the only lead we have," Nathan said.
The woman frowned at him. "You sure talk like a cop but you aren't one. Why should I help you?"
Nathan rolled his shoulders, a sure sign that he was losing patience. "Just take a quick look at the picture. Do you know this little girl? That's all we're asking."
She couldn't avoid the picture as Nathan doggedly held it directly in her line of sight. "I live alone. I don't have any children," she said.
"She's from around here. It's not that big of a town. You've never seen this girl?" Nathan asked.
The woman glanced at the photograph and took a step back. She looked back down the hallway, her neck stiff, and then said, "I left the stove on. I'll be right back. Wait on the porch."
"I don't like this, Nathan," I whispered. "She's acting strange, don't you think?"
He shrugged. "Some people are just naturally cagey. The important thing is getting her to look at the photograph again. I swear there was recognition in her face."
A cold knot of frustration settled in my gut. "Then how come she won't say so? I mean, she's just a little girl. Anyone should want to help as much as they can."
Nathan peeked down the hallway, and his forehead furrowed. "You're right. Any halfway decent human would at least look at the photograph and try to be helpful. I wonder if it's us or if it's the girl who's got this woman nervous."
The woman returned with a full coffee cup and what could almost have been called a smile. "It's a nice morning. Why don't we sit on the porch for a minute?"
She led the way to an ancient swing that hung from the porch roof on rusted chains. Nathan leaned against the railing, and I perched on the edge of a weathered wooden chair.
"We're sorry to barge in like this," Nathan said.
The woman smoothed back her untidy hair and looked at me. "It's a strange thing to do," she said.
I took a deep breath and hoped my voice sounded calm. "We found the photograph and have reason to believe the little girl might be in trouble. Her name's Maggie. Does that ring a bell?"
The woman glanced up and down her street, took a sip of coffee, and looked a lot friendlier than she had a few minutes ago. I wondered if maybe she'd laced her coffee with whiskey or something, but she seemed so alert.
Nathan noticed the same things and caught my glance. He nodded and stood up. "So, you don't recognize her? You've never seen the little girl before?" he asked the woman again.
"No, but let me have another look." The woman glanced off down the street again and then pretended to study the phot
ograph.
She reached for it but Nathan pulled it back. "Sorry to bother you. Seems like we should be on our way."
The woman caught his wrist and held on. "No need to hurry. I'm brewing a fresh pot of coffee. You should come in and drink a cup."
"No, thanks. We've troubled you enough already." Nathan grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.
She jumped up and blocked our way to the sagging front steps. "Coffee's no trouble. Come on inside and sit down for a minute. You said you've been on the road; you must be exhausted."
"We're fine, thanks. Sorry again for the intrusion." Nathan moved to walk around the woman but she dodged in front of him again.
"You know, I might know that little girl. What did you say her name was again?"
"Maggie." Nathan's hand was tight on mine.
"Yeah, yeah, Maggie. Sounds like the little girl who lived just down the street. One day they stuck a for sale sign in the yard and took off for California. Little girl went with them," the woman said.
I tried to edge past the woman. "She went to California with her family. See? Now we don't have to worry anymore. Thanks so much."
"I might have their phone number or forwarding address or whatever inside." The woman continued to block our way even as Nathan pushed forward toward the sagging steps.
Far in the distance, the wail of a siren started. Another joined it from a different direction. The woman held up her hands as if she could stop us.
"You called the cops," Nathan said.
"What? No. They're always chasing someone around," the woman said. "Nothing to do with you."
Nathan let go of my hand and vaulted over the porch railing and into the dried-out flowerbed. The woman dodged over to the railing and left the way to the front steps open for me. I ran onto the front yard and sprinted toward our old sedan.
"You won't be able to get away now," the woman called from her porch.
I dove into the passenger side door just as Nathan revved the engine to life. The used car lurched forward, and Nathan pressed down hard on the gas. We screeched up the quiet street only to leave tire marks as Nathan slammed on the brakes.