by Jenna Ryan
She wanted Gage, too, she reflected while he worked on rewiring the exposed connections. Unfortunately, any involvement, even a one-night stand, would only lead to complications she didn’t need.
He slapped the panel back into place. “You don’t ask, I won’t ask. I’m done. We should be good for a while. They’ll break through it eventually, but we’ll get some sleep in the meantime.”
“Great. Where?”
“I’m thinking Peachland.”
She retied her hair. “Please tell me we’re not in Georgia.”
“Nope. Mississippi. Not far from Jackson”
“So we won’t be striking out for Las Vegas anytime soon.”
“That’ll depend on the strategy we devise and what happens with Rachel.”
Amber held out a hand for the whiskey. “My head’s spinning, but not entirely from the alcohol. I want my buzz back.”
He glanced at her. “I don’t think so, Snowbird.”
“Lydia,” she said simply.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He didn’t swear or say anything at all. He just dropped his phone in the dock and let Elvis take over.
Of course, it was music from the King’s Las Vegas years. Rather than fight the memories, Amber took a slow drink of whiskey and went back to another time, another place. Another world.
…
Even when he felt sure she was asleep, Gage resisted the urge to make a phone call. Better to let Elvis keep his thoughts centered and his mind on the immediate goal.
She still didn’t trust him, not all the way. He didn’t blame her. In her position, he wouldn’t trust him, either. With reason in this case.
The sign for Peachland came into view and, with it, the first light of dawn. The timing couldn’t have been better. The truck needed gas and the tank had a lock on it. It was a minor problem, but one he didn’t intend to solve in full view of a station attendant.
The Starlight Motel sign he spotted appealed on a number of levels. One, it was here, two, it looked like something from the fifties, and three, there was a café rather than a bar attached to it. Four minivans sat in the lot. That meant families. He’d park the truck on the side of the building and hope to hell the interference band he’d rigged would hold for a few more hours.
“Wake up, Amber.” Leaning across her, he unstrapped her seat belt. “Time for that hot bath and a real bed.”
“Back off, Gareth.” She pushed on his hand. “I’m not…” Her eyes opened. “Where am I? Why does my head feel like it wants to explode?”
“We’re at the Starlight Motel, and you’re hungover because you’re a lightweight when it comes to holding your whiskey.”
“I am,” she agreed.
Because he was already leaning that way, he took advantage of their close proximity and kissed her. Not deeply, not at first, and certainly not for a long period of time. Even so, the instant burst of heat surprised him. Something tightened in his stomach as the taste of her tempted him to slide in farther and savor.
He dragged his mouth away and saw her lips quirk. “Your idea, your consequences. I know better than to do that.”
So should’ve he, dammit. He’d only meant it as a wakeup call. And maybe a bit of enjoyment.
“Get your stuff,” he told her and picked up his guns. “Memorize this. We’re heading north for your brother’s wedding in Raleigh. Wedding’s tomorrow. We got held up in Baton Rouge, at my grandmother’s. Now we’re in a race against the clock. A few hours of rest and we’ll be good to go.”
“Got it.” She climbed out to stretch. “Ask if the rooms have bathtubs.”
And cold showers, he thought, heading for the lobby.
It was still dark enough for the main room to be lit. He smelled coffee and told himself not to beg. Caffeine could wait.
The man at the desk barely bothered to look up from his tablet as Gage signed the register and paid.
“Twenty-three’s empty,” he said in an absent tone. “Café opens at six a.m. Ham and eggs are decent. Y’all enjoy your stay.”
So much for the backstory. Gage stepped out and gave Amber the key to room twenty-three. “I’ll park the truck. Don’t go inside until I’m with you. Keep your gun ready.”
“Is it weird that that last remark is starting to sound normal to me?”
“Not weird, just unfortunate.” He wanted to kiss her again, but it was better to keep a clear head. Returning to the truck instead, he pulled out his phone and drove around to the far side of the motel.
“’Bout damn time,” Bear snarled at him. “When and where?”
“Two hours, give or take, depending on where you are. We’re at the Starlight Motel, on the outskirts of Peachland. I need this to work, old friend.”
“Uh-huh. By the way, word is the reward’ll be up to three million by noon today. If this goes on, friends are going to be harder and harder to keep. Two hours, Gage. Unless something happens in the meantime.”
Ominous statements, Gage reflected, issued from the depths of an increasingly murky situation. Amber didn’t trust him all the way, and he didn’t trust anyone more than halfway.
Not even himself.
Chapter Fifteen
A hot bath in a mediocre tub in a crappy motel raised Amber’s spirits more than she’d expected. Gage left her alone, which evoked mixed feelings on her part. In the end, it was just as well. Confusion had become a state of mind where he was concerned. Did she want him? Yes. Would having sex with him solve any of her problems? Probably not, but still…
Calling Tom was an option, though maybe not the best idea on the off chance her phone really was bugged. Instead, she rested her head on the back of the tub and let the heat of the water lull her into a drowsy state.
Why couldn’t Rachel have followed instructions?
Because when had Rachel ever followed instructions. She’d been a jealous, spiteful child with a temper, an attitude, and petulance to spare. Tom called it the youngest sibling syndrome. Having had four or five kids of his own, he’d recognized it right off.
“She wants what you’ve got and a whole lot more, Amber.” Tom had winked at her across his office desk mere hours before she and Rachel had been whisked off to the Smoky Mountains. “One thing she’ll never have is your compelling face. So what happens when a man like Owen Fixx comes along and showers her with compliments and pretty jewels? Suddenly, she’s the center of attention and hoo-eee, she’s loving that. The son likes you, but he’s small potatoes compared to Daddy. This time, the prize is hers, and ain’t no way in hell she intends to give it up.”
Amber had propped her chin in her hands. “I should have gone to Los Angeles instead of Las Vegas. I wasn’t in love with Gareth. He was just a guy I met on a plane. But then I saw the glitter and all the happy people, and I thought, ‘this could be fun,’ to say nothing of financially rewarding. I should have looked deeper before I jumped into the job at Owen’s hotel. But who does that? I heard whispers about him, gossip, rumors, that kind of thing. And God knows, I had access to enough files that I could have turned up the sort of red flags that might have warned me to get out before I got in. Of course, digging that deep would have meant using Gareth…”
“Which you wound up doing anyway,” Tom reminded her. “Don’t beat yourself up for things you do that are necessary to the survival of you or a loved one. Sometimes life takes funny turns, Snowbird. Roads fork. You chose the one you needed to take. It’s who you are. Someday, your sister will understand that.”
Comforting words, Amber thought now, but she wasn’t convinced Rachel would ever forgive her. The sad part was, at that moment, she didn’t much care. She wanted Rachel back safe and unharmed. Beyond that, her feelings were numb.
At least they were until Gage’s face drifted in. Then everything inside her warmed. Her blood, her skin, her mind.
Without warning, his image vanished and the world went dark. Lightning split the turbulent blackness. Thunder rumbled. Another face formed. The features were less distinct a
nd partly hidden by the brim of a hat. She saw long hair, a portion of a scar, and teeth, not bared in a smile so much as an evil grin.
Half a middle finger beckoned her forward. Creatures flew around his head. Monkeys? No, couldn’t be that. Could it? One of them looked very much like Owen. The others…she couldn’t tell.
The finger continued to crook. “Come to me, Amber,” the man to whom it belonged said. “You can’t trust him. You never could. He’ll betray you. It’s what people like him do. Kill or be killed. Except you can’t kill me. Can’t touch me. The only thing you can do is come to me, before it’s too late. Come to me, my pretty, or when I do catch up, I’ll torture you. And your little sister, too.”
…
Gage watched an ultimate fighting match on bad cable while Amber soaked and probably slept in the tub. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it was safe, and he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her, to have sex with her, or, God help him, to talk to her. Be seduced into telling her things he didn’t want to think about, let alone share.
Fuck Lydia, and not in the good way. Why the hell couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut in his sleep?
Time crawled. He’d kept Amber out of the bathtub for close to ninety minutes of the two hours he needed for Bear to find the motel. It hadn’t been a difficult task. He’d asked her about her life growing up, more about her job in Las Vegas, and a little about her relationship with Gareth Fixx. The last topic had both intrigued and pissed him off at the same time. In the end, they’d opted for safe ground. Tom Vigor and her transition from Alexa Chase to Amber Kelly.
She said Tom had made the change as seamless as possible. But then, old Tom had been in that line of work for a number of years. He had a list of commendations as long as Gage’s arm. On the flipside, Tom’s counterpart, Sidney, wasn’t quite as decorated. Gage intended to explore that avenue when and if the opportunity presented itself.
If the opportunity presented itself. There was no wifi there. There was barely cell phone reception… And the thought of Amber wet and naked in the next room was making him crazy.
He checked the time. Close enough. Careful not to make any noise, he turned up the TV and slipped out the door.
The day couldn’t have been more forbidding. Thunder rolled through the sky over the distant woods. Between peals, he spotted several jagged forks of lightning. The only thing missing was rain, and that would come at some point.
Bear sent directions in a garbled text message. Keeping with the Wizard of Oz theme, Gage had to admit, he hadn’t seen woods like those since the last time he’d watched the trek to the Wicked Witch’s castle. It wasn’t a promising sign.
Damp ground fog curled around his ankles. He half expected it to develop fingers, grab hold, and drag him down into the earth.
Instead, a large hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind. Instinct had him dropping, rolling, and coming up armed.
A wicked grin split Bear’s face. “Got stuff on your mind there, Gage? Maybe a dark-haired beauty with a big, fat bounty on her head?”
“You bastard.” Gage climbed to his feet. “How long have you been here?”
“Five minutes, give or take. Long enough to watch you stroll toward me with your mind a million miles away. And speaking of millions, you best be keeping your lady well under the radar. Word’s out. Anyone looking to get rich quick’s gonna be searching for her.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Gage tucked his weapon away. “And talk to me about last night.”
“About the she-devil?” Bear slapped his bandage-wrapped arm. “Caused me to take on another scar—like I need one. She did what you figured she would. I lost my grip like you wanted me to. They took her back, I hightailed it, and here I am.” Reaching into his shirt pocket, he produced a miniature transponder. “This baby’s got range and it’s working. I put her location somewhere in northern Louisiana. It’s not the newest device in the world, but it’s the best I had on hand. It’ll do you if you really want her back. Do you?”
Gage lifted a shoulder. “Not particularly. Amber does. She’s got a thing for baby sis. I’m not sure I understand why, but then, I’m an only child.”
Bear chuckled. “Hell, I got two of each myself, and I wouldn’t go after any of ’em, except to recoup the money they owe me. What’ll you tell her if they kill the she-devil?”
“Depends how much I tell her in the first place. I’m not sure she trusts me to keep her safe, forget the sister.”
“Love to forget her, but…” Bear glanced at his wounded bicep. “Gonna be a while before I can. You want new wheels, I got a buddy near the Louisiana border. Has a body shop and a collection of trucks. He minds his own, won’t ask a lot of questions. Give him double what he wants, he’ll forget he ever saw you. We closer to square now, Gage?”
Gage grinned. “Getting there.” The first spatters of rain began to fall. “If I need more, I’ll think about calling in a favor from someone else.”
“Like old Abel?”
Bear’s grim tone had Gage frowning as he flipped up his jacket collar. “You know Abel?”
“Heard about him.”
“From who?”
“You. Couple years back when we did that Army reunion thing and we got so pie-eyed, we couldn’t take two steps without falling down. We were climbing up off our butts for the fifth time, and you started talking about how old Abel and his wife split and he was pissed because the bitch took him for everything he had.”
“Yeah, like that’s never happened to anyone else. Almost happened to you once, didn’t it?”
Bear shrugged. “Might have, might not have. It’s no skin off my nose one way or the other. You’ve got bigger problems anyway. Like how you’re gonna explain to Amber what really went down at Bitterroot Lake.”
“I’ll think of something,” Gage told him. “Or lie.”
The clouds let loose then, but he didn’t rush back to the motel. He checked the tracking device, watched it flash a location in Louisiana. And wondered if he could trust either the light or Rachel.
…
Amber paced the motel room like a caged tiger. Fury bubbled inside her, hot and explosive. The moment Gage came into the room, she swung around, strode over, and slapped him.
Thunder crashed overhead as she stood there with her palm throbbing and her eyes snapping in anger.
Gage didn’t react. At least not physically. He kept his hands shoved in his jacket pockets and his expression level. “So,” he said, “I take it you finished your bath early.”
“Lucky thing.” She held his stare. “There’s a high window in the bathroom. I climbed up to push it open and I saw you going into the woods.”
“You dress quickly.”
“I can do lots of things quickly when I want to. I followed you.”
“I gathered that when you slapped me. It was the only way, Amber. Rachel wasn’t going to cooperate, so Bear attached a transmitter to one of her earrings while she was struggling. If she’d gone with him, he wouldn’t have had to do it. But she didn’t.”
“You knew she wouldn’t go.”
“I put the odds at twenty to one against.”
Because she was tempted to slap him again, Amber spun away, fists clenched, teeth grinding. “That wasn’t fair.” She swung back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Right.” The ghost of a smile quirked his lips. “You’d have gone for that all the way, no questions asked, no arguments offered. I wanted you to understand what your sister really is—a spoiled little girl who rebels when things don’t go her way. She doesn’t think, she reacts.”
Which was true, but hearing it didn’t improve Amber’s mood. “Damn you, Gage, yes, she’s a spoiled little girl, but she’s also scared and totally out of her element.”
“So are you.”
“We’re not the same person.”
“Exactly my point. I recognize Rachel because she’s a female version of Knute.”
She marched back over to him. “Well, I�
��m not a female version of you.”
“Damn right.”
They stood like that for several seconds while lightning crackled and thunder crashed overhead. Rain pelted the motel roof.
The conflicting elements fueled Amber’s anger. It made no sense to feel the way she did, but there it was, raw and sharp, pulsing inside her like an overexcited heart.
Gage glanced at her fists. “Hit me again, Snowbird, and I promise you, there will be consequences.”
Shaking the hair from her face, she waited for the lightning to illuminate his features before firing back an icy, “Did Lydia suffer consequences?”
His eyes turned to stone. Thunder underscored an effect that had a shiver snaking through her body.
“In a way, she did,” he said with absolutely no expression. “I killed her.”
Chapter Sixteen
James Mockerie sat alone in Owen’s office, toying with his fourth glass of bourbon and staring at his iPad. He’d locked his gaze on a picture of Owen’s wife thirty minutes ago, and he hadn’t been able to wrest it away. He wanted her to beg for death. He always wanted that. Craved it. He’d let his own wife…no, not going there. Not right then. He was going to focus on Amber Kelly and her insipid, bitch sister. If torture was an option, he’d go for it. If not, he’d shoot them in turn, once in the head and a second time in the heart, as was his habit.
He’d shoot Gage Morgan, as well, but primarily for the hell of it in Morgan’s case. Men were never as gratifying to torture or kill as women.
McCabe would be the exception to that rule. At some point, they were going to clash, because he knew, he fucking knew, that McCabe was behind all of this. Sequestered in the shadows, but there, pulling strings and making his life a living hell.
Meanwhile, Owen might be fun to off. He’d have to think about that if the time came to eliminate him.
James’s eyes refocused on the iPad photo in front of him. “You fucked with me, Rowena. I loved you and you screwed me over. You died for that.” Leaning in, he ground out a hoarse, “Why do I think you’re still screwing me from the grave?”