A Point of Honor

by C L Rowell

  “Then why did they follow you? Why did they try to run you off the road? Why did they shoot at you?”

  “Why did they follow me? That’s easy. They followed me because I acted suspicious—I slowed down, eyeballing the house they trashed, and took off when I saw movement. They knew if I had a chance to call the police I would—anyone would—and soon it would be crawling with officers. Since they were still around, it’s reasonable to presume they were still searching for something and wouldn’t want the police to mess that up.” He opened his mouth, but I barreled forward, “Why run me off the road? To stop me for questioning, obviously. If I was acquainted with Miles, I might know something useful.”

  “And why did they shoot? If they killed you then you’d be useless to them.”

  “Ah, but the dead can’t talk to the police either. Getting rid of me—and you—would have given them more time to search Miles’ property.”

  “You watch police procedurals, don’t you?”

  I stared, wary, wondering where he was going with the conversation. Inexplicably nervous, I stalled, “What?”

  “Police shows? CSI? Law and Order? You’re a fan?”

  My face filled with heat. I felt like I had a neon billboard over my head ratting me out. I shrugged, aiming for casual. “Yeah, I watch them on rare occasions. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “No, everyone doesn’t, but I can usually tell who does.”

  That stung and I jerked upright like somebody yanked my strings. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look, I’m not trying to start anything. I don’t want to fight with you. We need to get out of here before their backup can arrive in town. Grab your bag and your purse.” As I watched, he scooped up a duffle bag and hung the strap over his muscular shoulder.

  “But…I thought we were going to get some sleep?”

  “You can sleep in the car.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m fine. I know how far I can push myself. Right now, we need to concentrate on putting miles between us and the bad guys, though.”

  “Wh-where are we going?”

  “Washington, DC—wasn’t that where you said you needed to go? Let’s just hope the enemy doesn’t know that’s where we’re heading.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Let’s go!” He tossed me my bag with one hand, pocketing his keys, phone and wallet with the other one. “Chop, chop!”

  “I’m gonna chop something in a minute,” I huffed under my breath, hanging my purse across my body so I wouldn’t lose it and slinging the bag with my clothes over my shoulder.

  8

  Todd

  ∞∞∞

  I scanned the hall before leading the way out of the room. “The coast is clear. Come on.” She watched me hang the privacy sign on the knob. Before she could ask the question I could see in her eyes, I shrugged, “They saw me come to your rescue and I’m going to give them credit for a few brain cells. If they figure out who I am maybe this will stall them. The room’s paid for—for a few days, anyway. By the time maid service breaches the sign and enters to prep it for the next customer we’ll be long gone.”

  She raised a shapely brow, “Mission Impossible fan?”

  I felt the tips of my ears and my cheeks heat up. “James Bond.”

  “Didn’t he have special toys his butler gave him to help him beat the bad guys?”

  “You’re thinking of Batman.”

  “Nah, I don’t watch Batman movies. I’m more of a Die Hard fan myself.”

  I grinned, “Bruce Willis? I wouldn’t have pictured you as the type.”

  “What can I say? The man kicked ass.”

  “Indeed, he did.” I led her toward the stairs.

  “Uh, wrong way. The elevator’s this way.” She jabbed her thumb in the opposite direction.

  “We’re not taking the elevator.”

  “We aren’t? Why not?”

  “If you were a terrorist, would you be more likely to walk up several flights of stairs or hop on the elevator?”

  She squeezed between my body and the wall, brushing against me and flushing pinkly at the contact. “Point taken. We’ll do it your way and use the stairs—but, Butch isn’t going to like you very much after this. He hates stairs.”

  “He’ll forgive me.”

  “Ha! You hope.” She motioned for me to go first. “After you.”

  “Why after?”

  “If I trip, I want a soft landing.”

  “You calling me soft?” I flexed, showing off my muscled physique. “These bulges don’t come naturally. I work hard.”

  She looked me over, her green eyes lingering on my zipper as she licked her lips. “None of them come naturally?”

  “Hey, now, eyes up here, lady.” Inexplicably flustered, I turned toward the stairs and nearly missed the first one in my haste.

  She snickered. “I see you didn’t answer my question, though.”

  “That one’s all natural.”

  “So, no sock?”

  “No—?” I tried to stop on a dime and turn around too fast and tripped over my feet in my haste. I felt the wrench in my shoulder when I grabbed the banister to stop my fall at the last second. “Are you trying to kill me? Do I look like the type of man that would stuff his shorts?”

  “No?”

  “Damn straight, no. That’s all me.”

  “If you say so.” She passed me and rapidly reached the landing for the next floor. Glancing up, she caught the direction my eyes were looking and pursed her lips in an obvious attempt to hide a grin. “You coming…or just breathing hard?”

  I winced as I joined her. “That joke’s not even funny anymore.”

  “Who says I was joking?” She waved in the direction of my zipper, “You’re hard as a rock and you were staring at my ass like you were contemplating taking a bite. My comment fit the moment. Admit it.”

  “Don’t start something you aren’t ready to finish—and stop staring at my cock. It’s distracting.” I pulled my shirt over the evidence of my desire and took my place in the lead again.

  “Yes, it is—very distracting.”

  “Quit it.”

  “What’s the matter? Can’t take the heat?”

  I stopped at the next landing, waited for her to get within arm’s reach, pulled her to me, and sandwiched her between my body and the cold iron door. When her eyes flew to meet mine, I moistened my lips and leaned closer, veering to the side at the last second and avoiding her parted lips. “I can take it,” I whispered in her ear before grazing my teeth across the rapidly pounding pulse beneath. “I just figured you’d prefer to wait until we were safe before I fucked you. Was I wrong?”

  She shook her head, wide-eyed. “I’ll behave. I get mouthy when I’m nervous. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Really? Then why is your heart pounding like a kettledrum?” I pressed my palm over her left breast and felt her heartbeat increase even more. “Why are you panting so hard?”

  “The stairs?”

  “We’re going down the stairs, though.”

  She narrowed her eyes, “Jerk.”

  I stepped back, releasing her. “I’ve been called worse. Let’s call a truce and get out of here. Once we’re on the move we can discuss the attraction between us.”

  She stuck her nose in the air, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I grinned, chucking her under the chin. “Keep telling yourself that and you might finally believe it—but I doubt it.”

  When she refused to respond I took the lead and led us the rest of the way to the first floor. I noticed Butch seemed relieved to put the steep steps behind him. I also noticed the way he heeled with the leash on his collar. I wondered if she’d trained him or had someone else do it for her and made a mental note to ask once we were safe.

  Before opening the door to the lobby, I pulled a Yankees cap out of a side pocket in my bag. I coiled her hair into a messy ball on top of her head and plopped the cap over i
t, pulling it low over her eyes, then donned its twin.

  She felt the hat, “What’s this for?”

  “It’s an easy disguise. They’ll be looking for a girl with long brown hair and a guy with a flattop and shaved sides—not a couple wearing matching hats and walking a dog. I want you to hold my hand and smile like we’re lovers on holiday. Can you do that?”

  “I think so…” but she didn’t look any surer than she sounded. Without thinking about it twice, I leaned in and kissed her, bumping our caps in the process. She giggled and blushed.

  “That—just like that, beautiful.” Without giving her time to think and grow nervous, I pushed the door open, grabbed her hand, and pulled her through into the main hall of the hotel with Butch trotting at our heels. Moving briskly, with purpose, I made my way to valet parking and gave them my ticket. I kept my head bowed toward her, my hand cupping her jaw as I gazed into her eyes while we waited. To outsiders, looking at us in passing, I hoped we would appear to be lovers on holiday, maybe even newlyweds on our honeymoon.

  “Here you go, sir,” the young man held out my key and I dug in my pocket for a bill. I tipped him twenty and nodded. He grinned, “Thank you! Have a great evening.”

  “We will.” I opened the passenger door and helped her and Butch inside before rounding the hood and dropping behind the wheel. Keeping the brim of the hat low, I scanned the area, cursing silently because I still had no clue who I was looking for. People of every nationality passed by, going in and out of the popular resort, but no one seemed to take undue interest in us. Finally giving it up as a lost cause, I pulled out of the portico.

  “What were you looking for?”

  I turned to meet her eyes and decided honesty was the best policy. “I was trying to see if I could spot our mysterious them.”

  “Oh,” she nodded, “I was, too. I wish I’d gotten a good look at them as I drove past Miles’ place, or that it hadn’t been so dark when they were trying to run me off the road.”

  “Don’t. The darkness was your friend.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “If they did any digging, and you know they did, they heard that Miles’ sister is dead—and they hopefully don’t know what you look like, either. That’s to our advantage.”

  “But I was standing in the beams of your headlights after the accident—”

  “Incident, not accident; and they were recovering for a collision with a tree. I doubt they were thinking clearly enough to memorize details about you.”

  “They thought clearly enough to shoot…”

  “And miss. That they missed tells me a lot about their mental condition at the time. Do me a favor and put the address he gave you in the GPS for me.”

  “Should we be taking a rental on such a long trip?”

  I grinned at her and shrugged. “My contract said unlimited miles. May as well use them, right?” I searched the road behind me in the dark, watching for headlights and wishing the sun would hurry up and rise.

  9

  Millie

  ∞∞∞

  We didn’t stop for anything, not even fuel, until Jackson, Mississippi. My eyes felt like the sandman had coated the underside of my eyelids with the remains of his last Bahamas vacation. The whites had a virtual roadmap of red lines covering them and dark circles underneath gave me the look of a human-raccoon hybrid. As I shifted in my seat, I was horrified to realize I couldn’t feel my legs—they’d fallen asleep, along with my ass. The prickles and needles of returning blood flow as my lower body woke were excruciating. What made it even worse? My bladder was at maximum capacity . By the time he flicked the blinker to confirm we were exiting I was all but squirming from all the sensations overwhelming my groggy brain.

  “Oh, thank god,” I groaned, yawning. “If I don’t hit the ladies’ room asap, I’m gonna need a change of clothes and you’re gonna need to detail the inside of this car before you return it. I just hope my legs will cooperate instead of dropping me on my ass on the hard concrete as soon as I stand up.”

  His brow crinkled, displaying his concern, “You should have said something earlier if you needed to stop.”

  “Not with the way your eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. You spent just as much time looking back as you did looking forward. I figured you were already worried enough without having to pull off for a pitstop.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “A little bit, yeah.”

  His lips twisted into a moue of irritation as he pulled up to the fuel pumps. “I don’t like not knowing what we’re up against. I’m a planner, but it’s next to impossible to plan ahead when you don’t know what the enemy looks like.”

  “Well, he was in Norway. That’s near Russia, isn’t it? Could he have overheard something from one of his connections about a Russian plot?”

  “Perhaps,” he stretched in his seat, groaning. “We’ll talk more when you get back. Go do what you gotta do.”

  “Okay,” I nodded and turned to the door, but he gripped my wrist, stopping me.

  “Stay aware of your surroundings. If anything seems off—anything—come straight back and let me know.”

  “Surely, they can’t know where we are,” I forced a laugh. “Are we endowing them with psychic abilities, now?”

  “Just humor me, okay? Healthy paranoia has saved my skin on more than one occasion and I’ll feel better knowing you’re being vigilant.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open.” I could still feel the heat of his fingers on my skin as I hurried away. I nodded to the smiling clerk behind the counter as the chime of a hidden doorbell announced my presence, but I was hyper-focused on the restroom sign. Courtesy could wait but my bladder wouldn’t.

  After washing my hands and face and heading back out, I glanced around but saw no evidence of a hot foods area inside the store. I peeked out into the darkness, hoping, but there were no familiar fast food signs lighting up the night with their cheerful brilliance. Giving in to convenience, hunger, and temptation, I grabbed two twenty-ounce bottles of Dr. Pepper and two boxes of donuts, one powdered sugar and one chocolate-covered, and carried them up to the counter. I felt exposed, standing there with my back to the large expanse of glass at the front of the store, and silently wished he’d hurry and ring me up.

  “Will there be anything else?”

  I forced a tiny smile and shook my head, “That’s all.”

  I heard the door chime, signaling the presence of someone new in the store, and my heart jumped. I looked over my shoulder and saw a young couple with a kid. On their heels was an older man with a blank face and hard eyes. He seemed to size me up as he sauntered past and I shivered. Logic insisted he was just a traveler like us but my nerves were a jumbled mess and my tired mind insisted on coming up with a slew of worst case scenarios. Too distracted to pay attention the first time, I had to swipe my credit card twice before it worked. Finally, I was free. I took my receipt and the plastic bag with a muttered thank you and didn’t even glance around as I made a beeline for the door. I just wanted out.

  I didn’t feel safe until I was back inside the car with the door locked and Todd nearby but even then, it wasn’t a hundred percent. Thanks to the events of the past few days part of me wondered if I’d ever feel completely safe again. My logical side tried to assure me that the guys who attacked me back home couldn’t possibly know where we were, but it didn’t help much. The only thing that kept me from running screaming into the night was Todd’s presence. If anyone in the world could protect me, I knew he could.

  I placed one of the bottles in the driver’s side cup holder and opened both packages of donuts, wincing as I did, thinking of the chemicals and sugar I was preparing to ingest. Glaring at the box like it had done something wrong, I defiantly stuffed half of a chocolate-covered donut into my mouth and chewed viciously. Ha!

  My act of rebellion triggered a series of giggles and I felt a sense of relief that I could still laugh at myself. Then the giggles morphed into
uncontrolled laughter that sent a cascade of tears down my cheeks and I was laughing hysterically and blinking back tears of mirth when he climbed back inside the car. The look of confusion on his face renewed my amusement and I choked on a crumb, throwing myself into a coughing fit. He patted and rubbed my back and offered me a tissue for my eyes after I managed to catch my breath.

  “You okay?” I nodded, and he bobbed his head in unison, “Yes? That’s good to hear. Did I miss something? Why were you laughing?”

  I lifted the practically full box, “I got snacks for us to munch on.”

  “So I see, and they were funny?”

  “Well, not the donuts, per se—” I stopped, took a breath, and started over. “I was…I was laughing at myself.”

  “I see.” But I could tell he didn’t really understand so I tried again.

  “I snack when I’m stressed—or when I’m sad, or tired, or angry, or PMS-ing. My go-to snacks have always been sweet—donuts, honeybuns, candy bars, pie, cakes, cookies. As a result, I packed on the pounds in college. When I graduated, I weighed upwards of two hundred pounds…two hundred and fifteen pounds, to be exact. I was one hundred pounds heavier at graduation than I was when I went in six years earlier.”

  He looked me over. “You’ve slimmed down since you got out.”

  “I did,” I agreed. “It wasn’t easy. I mostly turned my back on sugar and high calorie foods. I started exercising…walking, then jogging, free weights, yoga. Little by little, day by day, the weight came off—most of it, anyway. I still have twenty-five pounds to go but I hit a stall a few weeks back.”

  “Maybe there’s a reason for it. You look good right where you are.”

  I ducked my head, pleased at the compliment. “Yeah, well, I won’t for long if I keep eating like this.”

  “One time won’t hurt you. Besides, your body is under a load right now. You’re stressed, grieving for your brother, worried about your safety—your calorie requirements will be higher than usual. Eat the damn donuts and drink the soda. The next time you get hungry, grab granola or a salad and a water if you feel the need to.” He popped a powdery confection in his mouth, wiped his fingers on his pants, and started the car.