by Holley Trent
She turned on the bathroom light, made an "ick" sound as she pulled back a sticky hand, and turned the light right back off after spotting the exposed plumbing behind the bathtub. It was so exposed she could see straight through into the neighboring room. There was no one in it at the moment, but even for thirty bucks a night, she wasn't willing to make that sort of gamble.
She tiptoed back to the bed, snatched up her bag, and left.
Due to there being some sort of convention in the area, she only had one lodging alternative left, and she'd been avoiding it. Every time she drove past that hotel in the past ten years she thought back on that one fateful prom night where she lay on a bed with her dress hiked up to her waist, Carter in a tux poised over her with his teeth worrying at her lips, his hand in her panties.
They'd very nearly gone all the way, but something had niggled in the back of her mind. They hadn't even gone to prom together. They'd gone steady for more than a year with hardly anyone knowing it. They'd stood on opposite ends of that gym, staring longingly at each other all evening, and finally slipped out around eleven when people had stopped paying attention to each others' pretty dresses and what was in the flasks the boys had smuggled in in their back pockets.
She'd followed him in his truck all the way to Williamston where they parked on backside of the new hotel, hoping not to get spotted.
He'd registered for the room and gone back outside to fetch her.
She'd been a bundle of nerves in the elevator on the way up, anticipating what was about to happen and what it would mean for them, if anything.
Somehow, while staring at the ceiling of that spanking new hotel room, she'd found her sense of self worth, and swatted him off of her.
"What's wrong, baby?" he'd asked, that handsome face marked with confusion.
"I can't," she'd said, while patting beneath the bed in search of one errant sandal. She needed to go.
"I thought we agreed that we'd wait until tonight?"
"And then what? I wait some more and more for you to graduate and move out and grow a pair?"
His mouth had flapped open. "I…"
"Right. I know where this is going, and I'd rather end it here."
"No!" He'd scrambled off the bed and tried to wrap strong arms around her shoulders. That was the first time she'd kneed him in the nuts.
"I'm sorry, Carter. If you're afraid of what folks'll say if they find out you're dating the mutt, you'll keep right on making excuses. Momma's right. There's someone for everyone, and maybe you're not it for me."
And she'd left.
He'd graduated shortly after and moved out of the county. She hadn't really crossed paths with him since she was sixteen. Now she realized that same old torch she carried for the guy with the smile that could light up the night sky had never been extinguished.
"God damn him," she muttered as she steered her car into the hotel's lot. She parked in that same spot as when she was a teen and registered for a single room using cash and a fake ID. She may have been fired from her computer helpdesk job when she was smacked with the arson charge, but she still had a few friends in low places willing to help her out--anything to bring down "the man," they'd said.
She fell onto the bed with a huff and scratched the itchy spot on her calf from where some bug had gnawed on her out in the cornfield. She needed a plan. She was running with only a few hundred dollars cash to her name. If she'd been smart, she would have stowed away in her daddy's truck before he made his last run, but breaking the law wasn't something she routinely practiced. Yes, she'd missed her court date. What choice did she have?
"Maybe I'll rent a cabin at a national park or something. Hide out until the idiot police figure things out." She raked a hand through the curls of her messy ponytail and sighed. "Should dye my hair."
She scoffed. Yeah, that'd make her inconspicuous. She was just one of those easily recognized types. With her brown skin, curly black hair, and the hazel eyes that weren't quite Nicola's green and not quite her father's brown, she stood out. She'd stand out even more with a bad dye job.
"Maybe a hat and some sunglasses," she said with a yawn. "Ditch the car somehow. Maybe take the bus."
She scoffed.
"Take the bus where?"
Her eyelids drooped.
She slept.
CHAPTER THREE
Nicola and Marilyn had gotten the better of him twice, but Carter was sure that wouldn't happen again. Thanks to a tip from his friend who worked the night shift at the Martin Motor Lodge, he learned a very tan woman with high cheekbones, a hell of a lot of black hair, and legs that didn't quit had checked in, and immediately out. It always paid for him to treat the people he bounty hunted with the utmost of care and professionalism. They remembered it. They did him favors.
She only had a half-hour lead, so he figured she couldn't have gone far. And damn it, that half hour he'd squandered stuffing his face had been worth her repeated escape, even if he did have to endure Nicola's chiding about the length of his hair and the bawdiness of his tattoos. Jesus, he'd been in the Marines. He was happy the worst he had from his stint was a couple of pin-up girls riding heavy artillery on his forearms.
He swung a U-turn on 17-Business and scanned the parking lot of the convention center hotel. Nothing recognizable out front. He pulled in anyway and drove around back where the long-term guests tended to park. He chuckled. One tan sedan with a stack of computer programming manuals piled in the backseat. He idled next to the car and shook his head. Worst fugitive ever, that Marilyn. Had any other guy been assigned her retrieval, they probably wouldn't have found her so quickly. But he and Mar--they had history. Now that he'd seen her again, with all those new curves but the same expression of adoration on her face, he wanted to rekindle some of that old teenage fervor. He wanted this all-grown-up Mar: the one who looked like she wanted him, too, but would probably just as soon give him another kick in the nuts than admit it.
He parked his truck next to her car and removed the valve caps from her tires.
Nice slow leak ought to slow her down, just in case.
He pocketed the caps and made his way into the hotel only to freeze by the elevator bank. What room? Probably should have had a plan.
He did what he always did in the absence of having a good plan. He bullshitted.
He strutted up to the reception counter and gave the girl behind it--who couldn't be much more than nineteen--a winning smile.
She blushed.
"Hey, honey. Listen, you might have a little trespassing problem. I was in the gym and I overheard a couple of ladies on the treadmills congratulating themselves for sneaking in here so easily every day to use your equipment."
The girl's lips tightened into a flat line and she visibly shook. "Ugh! I'm sick of these people comin' in here and using our amenities like this is some kind of country club. I'll be with you in a moment, sir!"
She stomped from behind the counter and made a beeline for the fitness center.
Carter, aware of the security cameras installed behind him, whistled and tapped his fingers on the countertop while he scanned the clerk's station.
Ah. Registration cards.
He could just barely make out the one on top, but he knew that handwriting. He had a whole shoebox of love letters written in that scrawl.
Marilyn had left a cash deposit and signed in as Tanya Trump. He memorized the room number and headed for the stairs.
Somewhere between floors two and three, he stopped. Again--no plan. He couldn't just knock on her door. As skittish as she was, she probably wouldn't answer. Maybe she'd answer for staff, though.
He backtracked to the second floor and used the courtesy phone in front of the elevators to call housekeeping.
"Yes, ma'am, can I get some extra shampoo and conditioner for Room 313? Towels, too? Mm-hmm. Just set them right inside the doorway if I'm not there. I'll try to meet you up there. I'm heading out to my car to get some things. Mm-hmm, thank you."
He waited t
here five minutes then climbed the remaining two flights. When he heard the housekeeping cart clattering down the hallway, he slowed his gait and watched the maid pick up a pile of fluffy white towels before putting her master keycard into the slot.
She leaned against the door and disappeared inside just as he crept up.
He sidled into the room right before the door shut and saw a prone Marilyn atop the bed, sleeping in her clothes.
The maid yipped as she emerged from the bathroom.
He held a finger up to his lips. "Shh. She's had a long day."
The maid nodded and made her exit.
He lingered at the bedside for a moment, staring down at the woman he'd never quite gotten out of his system. She'd been a remarkable young woman, so he couldn't help but to wonder what being with her would be like now that she was all grown up. He'd changed a lot in ten years: he figured out what mattered, and what didn't so much. At the top of the list of things he couldn't give a shit about was other peoples' opinions. Yeah, he'd been a scared kid, terrified about what his far-too-conservative parents would think. Well, he knew what they would have thought. It wasn't hard to predict. They were bigots, and not just for people who weren't white--the Aikens hated damn near everyone not like them. Liberals, Yankees, Evolutionists--they hated them all. It took his sister coming out as a lesbian when he was deployed overseas to shake things up. She'd given their parents a hearty "fuck you" and hadn't spoken to them since. When Carter went home one year on leave and was told what happened, his parents told him to pick a side. He picked his sister's. So, he was disowned, but cheerful about it.
What'd he have to lose now? Not a damn thing. There was the small problem of Marilyn being an accused criminal, but they'd cross that bridge later.
He pocketed her key card, her car keys, and slid his hand into his other pocket to remove a set of handcuffs. He clapped one end onto his right wrist and gently slapped the other around her left.
Her eyelids sprang open.
"Hey, baby," he cooed. "Not gonna run out into the stalks this time, are you?"
"Fuck you, Carter."
"Aw, baby. With the number you did on my crotch, I'm not even sure fucking is possible. Wanna kiss it and make it better?"
She rolled her eyes. "Aren't you direct."
He shrugged and heeled off his boots before crawling onto the bed. "Don't you want to hold my hand?" He laced his right fingers through her left ones and straddled her so he was over her hips. "That used to be a big thing for you."
"Fuck you, Carter," she repeated.
"Be nice. Can't you see I'm trying to be nice? Make it easy?"
"Make what easy? You taking me to the police so you can earn your fee?"
"Guy's gotta work. I'm sorry it had to be you."
She blew a raspberry. "You really think I'd set fire to someone's house?"
He flattened his body over hers, looped an arm beneath her back and rolled them as one unit so she was on top.
She sat up, thighs clamped at his waist, and eyed him, waiting for a response.
He unlaced his fingers from hers and planted his hands at her narrow waist, grinding her crotch over his. "What is this, second base?"
She sucked in a breath, then swatted at his chest. "Quit it! Answer the question."
"Doesn't matter what I think, Mar. Not my job to think. My job is to apprehend."
"Oh. That make you feel good about yourself?"
"It's a job, baby."
"Don't call me baby."
"Why not?" He grazed his free hand up her belly and palmed one heavy breast. Those were new, too. She hadn't quite filled out last time he saw her, although what she'd had back then had been nice. Round and pert. He'd had fun with them. His cock stirred at the thought.
She nudged his hand away. "You lost that privilege."
"That's fair." He lifted the hem of her shirt and slid his hand up inside, letting his palm graze the silky warm skin of her belly and travel up her ribcage to her other breast, which he quickly freed from its lacy constraint.
"Quit it," she said, swatting his hand away again, but not before he'd flicked his thumb over her aroused nipple and made her moan.
"Why?" He ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her jaw, chin and lips before resting his hand at the back of her neck and pulling her down to him for a kiss.
She was frigid at first, seeming to try so desperately not to give in to him, but then there was her tongue, searching his mouth, and her teeth pulling at his lips.
He ran a hand up the bottom of her shorts and gave her ass an appreciative squeeze.
Nice.
She pulled away, gasping. "Why don't you just turn me in already? I don't want to do this."
"Yes, you do. Besides, wouldn't you rather spend the evening on a nice soft bed than in a holding cell? It can wait till morning."
"You're seriously going to turn me in?"
He shrugged. "I obey the law. My job is to encourage others to do the same. Let's not let that get in the way of us having a little fun."
She scoffed and swatted his cheek.
He cringed at the burn. "Guess I deserved that."
"Fun, huh? That all I am to you? A piece of ass? You haven't changed a lick in ten years," she accused.
He growled and rolled her over once more, pinning her against the bed. "That what you think?"
"It's what I know." Her expression was blasé. Uncaring.
That wasn't his Marilyn. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You know better than that. I told you I loved you and I meant it."
She held up a handcuffed wrist. "And yet…"
"Baby, you gotta let the law do its job, or what's the point?"
"You really think I'm going to get a fair trial with my accuser being the mayor's son?"
He sat up a bit. "I didn't know that."
"They want someone to blame. I'll do."
"Like hell. The truth'll come out. You'll see."
"I never pegged you as a starry-eyed optimist. I thought that was my gig."
He twined his fingers in her hair and shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe having my chance to play in the sandbox overseas flipped a switch in me. I could either just let that heaviness ride me all the time, or I could hope things would get better." He studied the long curls in his hands, actually taking the time to feel how fine and coily each individual strand was. He hadn't noticed before, back when he let his cock be C.E.O. of Carter Incorporated. He didn't notice many fine details back then, such as how her dimples only appeared when she was grinding her teeth. "When'd you turn into such a cynic, baby?"
She shrugged. "Pretty sure it was a gradual thing."
"It wasn't me, was it? Did I start it? Did I do it to you?"
She rolled off him and reached for the remote, not answering. She turned up the volume of the television and tried to cross her arms over her chest, but Carter gave her cuffed arm a small yank back to the center of the bed.
"You ain't gotta answer that," he said.
"Super."
They stared at the screen for a while, not talking. He looked over at the sullen fugitive and the hard set of her jaw and decided that, yes, he did do it to her. How fair was that? He was about to let her down once again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Carter still had the exact same laugh. It was a full-bodied laugh that filled his face with light and made the bed shake. It was infectious and Marilyn was having a damned hard time not letting the contagion spread. She pressed her lips together and ground her teeth as she stared ahead at the dopey sitcom. She'd remembered it was one he had enjoyed back in high school and had groaned when she'd flicked past it and he asked, politely, if she'd turn it back.
"I've only seen this episode once," he explained.
"Mm-hmm."
So, he watched.
She plotted. Perhaps wait for him to fall asleep and find the key to the cuffs? The key had to be on his body somewhere or maybe in his wallet. If she could get his clothes off…
He gave her a little nudge. "
Sorry, baby. I drank about half a gallon of sweet tea at your mom's house." He scooted toward the left edge of the bed.
"Huh?" She followed along, not having much of a choice. Besides, she was curious about how he was going to negotiate hitting the head without dragging her along as a witness.
"Yeah, damn good supper." He led her to the bathroom door and reached into his back pocket with his left hand. He loosened the cuff on his arm and immediately clasped it to the bathroom door.
"Fucker."
"Yeah." He entered the small bathroom and pushed the door closed.
She kicked it. "Patience, baby. You'll have your chance, too," he said from inside.
She growled and pulled futilely at the doorknob.
He flushed, washed his hands, and carefully pulled the door in. "You need to go?"
She was about to tell him "no" seeing as how she hadn't gotten to drink half a gallon of sweet tea like certain people had: tea that was meant for her probably. She bet he even ate her chicken. He kind of had that smell about him.
"Yes," she lied.
He loosened her cuff and she considered giving him a junk-punch, but he backed up, obviously anticipating that ploy.
She stomped into the bathroom and shut the door. She paced in the small room for a minute, pondering her plight, and decided that if she was going to be tossed in the hoosegow anyway, she should at attempt one fantastic gambit. She kicked off her shoes and socks, stripped down to her underwear, and pulled the elastic tie from her hair. She teased out her curls, gave her breasts a fluff in her demi-bra, and took a deep breath.
How bad could it be? Okay, maybe she was being slightly self-serving in her not-so-subtle seduction attempt, but Marilyn of age twenty-six was a practical woman. Sex didn't necessarily equate to love, at least in her experience. She hadn't loved any of the guys she'd been with in the past few years. Sure, she'd acquired some affection for them all, but beyond that they were mostly warm bodies next to her at the movie theater or someone to pick up the check at restaurants.