A distant cry of sirens cut through the night, telling all the neighborhood help was on the way. I crouched, pressed a kiss to Tre’s forehead, and left him moaning behind me. There’s probably a special torture awaiting me in hell for leaving him like this.
I hurried down the sidewalk, checking over my shoulder for signs of pursuit. Storm clouds had moved in, and lightning lit up the night sky, followed by the ominous rumble of thunder. I thought of Thorin and his lineage—God of Thunder. Had he retrieved Mjölnir during our time apart? Helen wouldn’t have given it up without a fight.
The taxi was waiting for me when I reached the diner. I ducked into the backseat and asked the driver to take me to the nearest bus station. Greyhound and I were getting to be fast friends. I should probably buy stock.
The taxi pulled away from the curb, and I turned to look out the rear window. Across the street from the diner, centered under a ring of light from a dim streetlamp, stood Rolf Lockhart, looking pristine and untouched by my fire. He raised a hand and waved a two-fingered salute. I gasped and ducked down. Quit being stupid. He already saw you.
When I looked for Rolf again through the rear window, he was gone. The place where he had stood under the streetlight seemed a little darker than the space around it. I let out a heavy sigh, and the taxi driver glanced at me in his rearview mirror. Rolf had let me get away. After his earlier threats, why would he let me go? Hmm. Not sure I want to find out.
Chapter Five
At the Greyhound station, I bought a bus ticket, and my destination was anywhere that got me out of town quickly. That meant I ended up in the back of a bus traveling north on Interstate 5. Sometime near dawn, the bus stopped at a depot in Sacramento, and I reserved a room at a nearby motel. With paint peeling from the exterior trim and fraying carpet on the outside walkways, the motel looked like the kind of accommodation that attracted truck drivers and traveling construction crews. The parking lot smelled like old pee and ancient hamburger grease. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe no one would think to look for me there.
In the privacy of the motel room, I settled on top of the bed’s polyester comforter—no way was I touching those sheets—and powered on my little burner phone. For so many weeks, I had remained purposefully disconnected, theorizing that my anonymity equaled safety, but Rolf’s appearance had refuted my beliefs, so I had no reason to hold on to them anymore. I sent a text to Nikka, set the phone on the bedside table, rolled over, and let my thoughts drift until I fell asleep. I dozed off and on until my ringing phone brought me fully awake sometime near noon.
“Oh, thank God,” Nikka said when I answered. Panic sharpened her tone. “I didn’t know what happened to you. The police came by and told me Tre had been attacked behind the bar, and then you were missing…”
“I know, Nikka. I was there.”
“What happened?”
“It was that guy at the bar. Rolf Lockhart. But I’ll bet you anything that isn’t his real name.” I rehashed the story of the fight, leaving out my fire and giving credit to Tre for keeping Rolf distracted until I chased him off with the pepper spray.
“Who the hell is this guy, Sabrina? I thought you didn’t know him.”
“I don’t know him, but there are a lot of people looking for me that I don’t know. I think it’s safe to say I won’t be back to San Diego. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.”
“Let me help you. I’ll call the police or the FBI, or—”
“No. No, Nikka. Just, please, stay out of it.”
“But if something happened to you, I don’t think I could live with myself.”
“And I’d feel the same way if something happened to you because you got yourself mixed up in my mess. Tre was already hurt because of me. How is he? Is he okay?”
Nikka sighed. “He says he’s all right. Not that he’d admit it if he wasn’t.” A moment of uncomfortable silence passed over the airwaves. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. You seem like a nice girl. You probably don’t deserve this kind of life.”
I laughed, but it wasn’t warm or friendly. “I am a nice girl, and I totally don’t deserve this life.”
“What do you want me to do with your paycheck? Can I mail it somewhere?”
I shrugged even though Nikka couldn’t see it. “Donate it to charity. Put it back into your operating accounts.”
“I won’t hear from you again, will I?”
“No, probably not.”
Nikka sighed. “I’m going to miss those brownies you make.”
“I’ll mail you the recipe, someday. Thanks for everything, Nikka.”
“Try to stay out of trouble, Sabrina.”
“Ha. Too late for that.”
Nikka and I said our good-byes and ended the call. I got out of bed, showered, and changed into fresh clothes. My little black phone sat on the nightstand, daring me to pick it up again and make the call I dreaded most of all. With a huff, I snatched the phone, flipped it open, and hit the button preprogrammed to dial Thorin’s store.
The phone rang once, and I hung up.
I cursed at myself. What stupid game am I playing? I dialed the number again and let it ring until someone answered.
“Thorin Adventure Outfitters, Hugh speaking.”
“Hugh?” I said, not aiming to disguise myself this time.
“Not Jackman, Grant, or Hefner, but sexier than all three combined. How may I please you this afternoon?”
“Hugh, it’s Solina Mundy, Mani’s sister.”
Silence.
More silence.
Then a noisy gasp of breath. “Solina? Where in the holy hell have you been?”
“Um, I was on vacation.” I poised my finger over the End button in case things got weird. Weirder. Whatever.
Hugh muffled the receiver on his phone, yelled something unintelligible, and came back on the line. “It has been like the hunt for the Holy Grail around here, looking for you. Then you call the store out of the blue like you’re wanting to know if we carry your size in climbing shoes or something. Thorin is going to lose his mind.”
