Cole held the lobby door open and followed on her heels.
The Whittier Inn was about as standard a hotel as one could imagine. Flat brown carpet in the halls, nondescript wallpaper, generic print paintings of Southern California hot spots. At least it was clean.
Taking charge of renting a room for the night, Cole paid with cash and said little more than necessary to the chatty, too-happy clerk. Before Madalina knew it, they were in an elevator on the way to the third floor. Shortly after that, Cole opened the door to their room after scanning the hallway, ever on alert for unwanted company.
Madalina expected to find a set of double beds, plain furniture, a television on a dresser, and a small white-tiled bathroom, which is exactly what greeted her when she stepped inside. The color scheme was brown and sage green, the curtains parted to give a view of the parking lot in front of the lobby. She set her purse on the dresser and sank onto the edge of a bed, staring down at her booted feet. The sense of melancholy over the destruction of her home, of everything she owned, became a great weight that slumped her shoulders and bowed her spine. She didn’t know where to go from here or what to do next. Living in the hotel for longer than a few days wasn’t an option. She needed clothes—which she intended to get from the sale racks at her own boutique—shoes, shelter, and a plan.
“Hey.”
She glanced up when Cole came to stand next to the bed. He towered above her, tall and strong and handsome in the single light burning from the nightstand. “Hmm?”
“Did you leave your grandpa’s keepsake in the safe deposit box? Because if it was in the house, it’s either gone or destroyed. I think that’s got to be our best lead about what’s happening to you.”
Madalina studied Cole’s features, the unusual color of his eyes. She said, “I took it out of the safe deposit box. It’s somewhere else. I didn’t plan it that way; it just worked out that the person who was with me when I listed the information on the antique site had the dragon and kept it while I went to Vegas.”
Cole slid his hands into his pockets, weight shifting from one foot to the other. “I think we should go take a look tomorrow. See if we can find out more about it. I mean—if it’s nothing, a cheap knockoff, then we’ll be able to rule it out and turn our attention to something else. Systematically going through the possibilities of who is after you, and why, will help us make better, safer decisions.”
It didn’t sound to Madalina like Cole meant to go anywhere. He talked as if her problem was his problem, as if he was in it till the end. She thought she should ask him how long he planned to stay, how much dedication he meant to expend on her behalf. Maybe after breakfast, when some of the shock had worn off.
“All right. Tomorrow we’ll do that. I’m not sure what we’ll find. I need to stop by the boutique, too, to get some clothes and shoes. I can’t keep wearing this skirt and shirt.” Madalina had a thing about wearing clothes over again. It skeeved her out if she couldn’t change into something new and fresh after showers or in the mornings. Sometimes she changed twice a day. Besides her peculiar obsession, concentrating on this kind of mundane task helped keep her anxiety in check.
“Your boutique?” Cole asked. He didn’t move away, didn’t take a step back.
“Yes, mine. I can get the clothes at cost. It’ll be cheaper than going to a regular store.”
Cole’s whiskers rasped against his fingertips when he rubbed his jaw. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You think they’ll be watching it, too?” she asked with a frown. Madalina hadn’t considered that the Chinese agents might haunt her place of business. Then again, she hadn’t expected her house to be devastated, either.
“Look. You can find anything about anyone on the Internet. Pay two-ninety-five and you’ve got access to a person’s entire history. Old and current addresses, old and current jobs, schooling, relatives—they probably have your parents’ address, too. It’s just not safe going anywhere that might be on a list.”
Madalina started in surprise to hear that someone could find all that out so easily on the Internet. It felt as invasive as the ruin of her house. “I—you don’t think they ransacked my mom and dad’s house, do you?”
“I don’t know, Madalina. They haven’t called to say they—”
“They’re on vacation, remember? They’re not even home.” Fretting about the possibility, she stood up and paced a few feet one way, then the other.
“Where do your parents live?”
“In Chino. That’s where I grew up.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“It’s about a half hour or so from here. In decent traffic.” Otherwise, it could take an hour.
“Is that where the dragon is?” he asked with a frown.
“No. No, it’s here in town.” She didn’t know why she was so hesitant to admit that Lianne had the dragon. Perhaps she feared someone was eavesdropping by some sinister method. These people had been one step ahead of her the whole time, and she loathed putting Lianne in the crosshairs. Maybe she already had, simply by association.
“The people who are doing this to you, if it’s the dragon they’re after, wouldn’t know where it is. They might start hitting any possible place, because it sure seems to me that they’re desperate to get their hands on it.” He paused, then said, “We’ll get us both some new clothes and luggage tomorrow, first thing—but not at your store. We’ll go somewhere else after we’re sure they haven’t picked up our tail. Then we’ll see the dragon and get whatever information we can from it.”
“All right.” Madalina wouldn’t argue. It was a good plan, and now that she was high on paranoia, she needed someone to guide her, to help decide where she should and shouldn’t go. She’d been about to ask if he would drive her straight to Chino, but he made a good point about these people hitting everywhere she might turn up. The last thing she wanted to do was walk into another trap.
“Let’s get some sleep. Morning is going to come quicker than we think,” he said.
“Good idea. I’m exhausted,” she admitted. When she moved to step past Cole, their shoulders touched. The contact sent a spiral of excitement straight through her bones. Pausing, she set a hand on his biceps, the muscle flexing beneath her fingers. Meeting his eyes, noting an uptick of intensity in the way he stared at her, Madalina parted her lips with the intent to say something, but the words never came. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and all she could think about then was what it might be like to kiss him. She knew by the shift of his body closer to her own that he was thinking about kissing her, too. Because she wasn’t ready to be consumed by him, overwhelmed by him, she broke eye contact and stepped on.
Closing the bathroom door, she snapped on the light. The mirror over the sink showed a different Madalina than the one who had left for Vegas a day earlier. She thought she looked haunted, expression grim, lips compressed into a tight line. Studying the tautness of her shoulders, she slowly became aware of just how tense her body was. Her shoulders ached, as did her jaw, where she supposed she’d been gritting her teeth during the chase. The fall she’d taken over the fence had left a faint bruise on her stomach, she noticed as she peeled the peach shirt over her head.
Leaning over the sink, she turned the handle on the faucet, cupped cold water in her hands, and splashed it on her cheeks.
She couldn’t get her mind off whether or not the thugs—because that’s what they were in her mind after seeing the inside of her house—had decimated her parents’ home in Chino. Couldn’t stop worrying that the boutique might be next.
What in God’s name had she done?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cole tracked Madalina until she disappeared into the bathroom. His body hummed with desire that was slow to fade. The vivid memory of her soulful eyes and lush mouth threatened to totally distract him from keeping her safe. A few moments after the door closed, he turned off the
nightstand lamp and went to the window to look down into the parking lot. No new cars had parked near his, which he could see clearly from this vantage point. No one seemed to be nosing around the parking lot who shouldn’t be there, either. Granted, he couldn’t see everything, including the front lobby doors, but for the moment, no discernible threat lurked outside the hotel. He pulled the curtains closed, turned the lamp back on, and fished his cell phone from his pocket. Pulling up a map program, he looked up Chino and made a quick note on his phone’s notebook application. He also tapped out several texts, fingers flying over the screen. Done with the phone, he set it on the nightstand and removed the gun from the waistband of his jeans. Not about to let it out of reach, he set it next to the base of the lamp.
Glancing toward the bathroom, hearing the water go on and off sporadically, he guessed that Madalina had decided to wash up in case there wasn’t time in the morning. She was starting to show signs that the stress of the situation was getting to her. Little cracks in her feisty facade. The maudlin way she’d stared at her feet, the constant rubbing of her forehead, the wariness that hadn’t been present in Vegas. Her entire life had been thrust into turmoil. He considered how much more she could take before she snapped.
Not convinced of their complete safety, Cole remained fully clothed. Stretching out on the bed, he hooked an arm behind his head and crossed one ankle over the other. Wired from the chase, he knew sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight.
Madalina felt cleaner, but no less stressed, when she exited the bathroom. Spotting Cole lying on the bed, stretched long and leonine, made the stress a little more bearable. She knew he wasn’t asleep, could tell by the alertness in his muscles that he was watching her as she headed to the opposite bed.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“A little.” She didn’t bother to hide the drain on her internal resources. Sitting on the side of the mattress, she toed off her boots, only realizing as she did so that Cole had left his on.
He swung his feet to the floor and stood. “You know, for someone who isn’t used to this way of life, you’re doing really well. You should be proud of that.”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing well,” she admitted, dragging her gaze off his thighs to her boots. After sliding off her socks, she set both aside and wiggled her toes against the short carpet.
“You didn’t let the destruction of your house incapacitate you. You reacted proactively to saving your own hide, and even though that fence was a challenge, you didn’t whine about it. You just attacked it and went over.”
“Yeah. It attacked me, too,” she retorted churlishly.
He rumbled a laugh. “Next time, you’ll—”
“Next time? God help me.”
“Next time, you’ll go over a little easier. And the time after that, even better.”
“I still think you’re a CIA agent,” she said as he headed to the bathroom. A low bark of laughter preceded the quiet snick of the latch.
The vague curl of a smile disappeared from her mouth once he was gone. Leaning back into the pillows, she exhaled a deep breath and rubbed her forehead.
Positive Thinking: The Power of Optimism wasn’t working so well for her right now. Every optimistic thought she’d possessed had gotten stomped beneath the heavy boot of fear and paranoia. In that particular moment, she couldn’t find anything positive about her life in the last twenty-four hours.
You’re alive. Be thankful for that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Madalina’s usual sleeping habits rarely changed. She was the sort to sprawl all over the bed, an arm flung here, a leg draped there. Tossing and turning was as natural as breathing. She typically woke up yawning and stretching, as if she had been a cat in a past life. Everything about rising with her alarm was languid and drawn out.
This morning, her eyes popped open when she came instantly awake. Tucked into a fetal ball, hands beneath her cheek on the pillow, she spent a moment getting her bearings. Her body ached in a way that suggested she hadn’t moved all night.
Cole, sitting on the edge of the other bed, looked ridiculously refreshed and ready for action. He watched her with a thoroughness that made Madalina wonder if one of her boobs had slipped free of the filmy shirt by accident. She sat up, grasping for the skinny straps over her shoulders, palms sliding down the scooped neckline to find that nothing was peeking out that shouldn’t be.
“What?” she asked, hands flying next to the tangled mess of her hair. The long, dark layers were skewed haphazardly every which way.
“Just waiting for you to come around. Didn’t want to wake you before I had to.”
“So you were just sitting there, staring? You could have put yourself to good use and grabbed us some coffee.” Even as she challenged him, the scent of coffee hit her nose. She glanced to the dresser and, lo, there were two Styrofoam cups, steam snaking through the slit in the lid. “Oh.” And then, she frowned. “You left me here alone to get coffee?”
Cole laughed. Hard. “So, you’re one of those bipolar sleepers. Got it. Happy one minute when you wake up, demanding and cranky the next.”
Smiling sheepishly, she said, “Sorry. I forgot for a moment that we’re in danger. Then I remembered, and realized you’d gone downstairs—”
“You don’t have to explain your grumpy habits to me, honey,” he said, grinning broadly. Rising to his feet, he crossed to the dresser, picked up both cups, and walked them back to the bed. He offered one to her.
Madalina, still buzzing with warmth at the raspy endearment, accepted the cup. Her fingers brushed his during the transfer, sending tingles racing along her skin. His smile . . . well, it did things to her. “Thanks. For the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” He pivoted away and went to the window. A stream of weak gray light slanted through the room when he parted the curtains. “It’s raining, by the way. I’ve been scouting the parking lot, and so far, everything seems okay.”
“Seems. My house seemed okay when we pulled up to the curb last night, too.”
He clucked his tongue, as if reprimanding her for her sarcasm.
Madalina swore she detected humor in the action, although she couldn’t say why. She sipped the coffee, taking note that the gun was gone from the nightstand. Cole appeared ready to hit the road. She stole several more sips, set the cup down, and muttered under her breath while she slid her feet into her socks.
God. Why? She hated putting on used clothes. She shuddered three times during the process, that odd skeevy feeling coming to the fore. The peculiar phobia had been with her as long as she could remember. From childhood, Madalina had refused to wear clothing she knew hadn’t been laundered. Taking the coffee with her to the dresser, she snagged the strap of her purse and slid it over her shoulder. What she wouldn’t give for a new wardrobe. A glance at the bedside clock proved it was much later than she realized. 10:37, just twenty minutes before they had to check out.
“I meant to call Lianne this morning to give her a heads-up. She’s been sick, which is why she wasn’t in Vegas with me, and we need to give her some kind of warning that we’re coming over. I’d hoped we could scoot over there early to get the dragon—that’s where it has been this whole time, her house—but it’s later than I thought.” Madalina couldn’t believe she’d slept so long. She’d been sure her nerves wouldn’t allow her to snatch more than a couple hours of tense slumber.
Cole stepped away from the window, bringing the coffee to his lips. After a lengthy sip, he said, “I still think it’s risky to expose your friend, especially in broad daylight, but there isn’t any other way to get the dragon. Unless we have her bring it to us. She’s sick, so that’s not an option. If we’re going to her house, we should wait until later and use the darkness to our advantage. Let’s get the clothes first, and then we’ll grab something to eat. Then we’ll figure out what to do from there, all right?”
“Okay
. There’s a little generic clothing store next to the health food center . . .”
“No. Where’s a decent mall?”
“Why not the generic store?” she asked with a frown. “They’ve got men’s and women’s clothing, and it’s closer.”
He gave her a specific we’re not going to a rinky-dink store kind of glance.
She retorted, “You’re a clotheshorse, aren’t you? The picky, I won’t wear just any old pair of jeans kind who won’t shop anywhere but upscale stores.”
“You’re one to talk, with your five thousand pairs of shoes.” He snorted and set a hand on the doorknob.
Madalina gasped. Her shoes. “Did they decimate all those, too?”
“No. But they’re scattered all over your closet. And on your bedroom floor. And in the living room.” He opened the door, stepping into the hallway with a wary look. “Besides, a little driving distance allows me to make sure I’ve lost any followers we might attract. It’s tough to lose a tail in one city block.”
“All right. I’m ready.” Madalina stared at his back, clutching her coffee in one hand, the purse in the other. She’d use either as a weapon if she had to.
“Let’s take the stairs. That way, if anyone is watching the hotel lobby, they won’t see us go out the back.”
“You think of everything,” she said, entering the hall in his wake. Taking a cue from Cole, she glanced up and down the corridor, then followed him to the stairway door.
“If I thought of everything, we’d know who these bastards are and what, exactly, they want from you. I’d have gotten their license plate and hacked my way into a program that would give me addresses and names.”
“Ceeee—iiii—aaaa.” Madalina singsonged the acronym. It was a way to relieve some of the creeping stress she felt at departing the hotel. Once they were out in the open, she knew she would feel exposed and vulnerable again.
Escaping Vegas (The Inheritance Book 1) Page 7