Soon as they got inside, he set Kara on her feet and yanked down the threadbare bedspread. His ex, whose expense budget probably covered five-star resorts with mints on the pillow and Egyptian cotton sheets, fell onto the lumpy bed and was instantly asleep. He removed her sneakers. Jace shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it over a chair at the scratched desk. He went outside, parked the bike in front of their room and grabbed their knapsacks from the bike’s saddlebags.
Jace made sure to lock the door. He checked the exits—window by the bed. It overlooked a dark alleyway. Not good.
Sighing, he rubbed a hand through his hair. He grabbed shampoo from his bag and stripped, then stepped into the shower. Water spurted out. At least the pressure was good. He showered, using the postage-size soap the motel kindly provided, and washed the day’s strain out of his hair.
Minutes later, he padded into the room, feeling a little more revived.
Sleep was impossible right now. He’d lived without it before. More important that Kara rested.
Maybe he could blend in with lowlifes, but Kara stood out, a diamond among costume jewelry.
Not for the first time, Jace wondered if he should have swapped his bike for a rental car. But the bike was faster and he had to stay in character. Gator would never drive a car, and as far as he knew, Lance trusted him to find Dylan and the missing jewels.
He didn’t want to stay here. He wanted to push on. But Kara needed rest. Jace accessed the internet using his phone and logged in to retrieve his messages.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
Not only had the local law enforcement opened an investigation into the murders at the clubhouse, but he and Dylan were also wanted for questioning.
If he turned himself in, he’d blow his cover.
If he stayed in character, he risked arrest.
He couldn’t turn himself in now. He was close to discovering Marcus’s real identity. And there was Kara...who would simply continue onto Georgia without him, endangering herself.
Jace exhaled a sharp breath as he glanced at his ex. One hand was tucked beneath her smooth, flawless cheek. Her long hair spread out on the pillow. She was a breath of fresh air in a dirty, foul arena, the light floral scent of her perfume cutting through the smoky air and smell of old beer.
Stretching out next to her on the king-size bed, he tried to focus on resting. Fastidious Kara hadn’t even blinked when he’d escorted her inside. No complaints.
He appreciated that side of her—hell, had appreciated it when they were together. Just never showed it. Maybe if he had, they’d still be together.
Suddenly he could no longer keep his eyes open. During his time with the Army Rangers, he’d trained himself to fall into REM sleep for short intervals. Jace lied down on the bed and in minutes, was fast asleep.
He woke to sounds of the shower running. Kara. Jace closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t have such an active imagination.
When she emerged from the bathroom, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
It seemed like minutes later he woke up. No reason.
Two o’clock. So much for a quick nap. He glanced at the luminous numbers on the ancient clock radio on the scratched bedside table. In her lacy bra and panties, Kara was lying on the lumpy king-size bed, fast asleep once more. Her delicate features had softened in sleep, losing the worry that had etched her expression since they’d left his apartment. Outside, light from the lone streetlamp illuminating the back alleyway spilled through the threadbare curtains. Kara breathed slowly and deeply, soothing his frayed nerves. At least she was safe now.
All his senses were on high alert. Spending the night here was not his preference, but Kara was exhausted.
Finally, he drifted off again.
A crunching noise outside awakened him like a gunshot. Jace bolted upright, glanced at the clock, every cell tingling a threat.
Nearly five. Glock in hand, he padded over to the window, lifted the dirty lace curtains with the back of his left hand. He could see clearly outside. In the darkness, he knew no one could see inside their room.
The narrow back alleyway, flanked by straggly trees and scrub brush, was little more than a dirt road mixed with old coral rock. In a thin wash of pale moonlight, he saw them. Two figures in black, striding down the alley. At the window of each room, they paused and peered inside. He didn’t need to see their clothing to know they were wearing leather, and biker boots. Judging from how tall they were, one was Big Mike. The other, maybe Snake.
Looking for them.
A chill raced down his spine. Jace had insisted on the room at the end. Good thing, for the pair had started at the opposite end.
Pressing against the window, he held his breath as he watched the shadows creep closer. Pale moonlight dappled the ground as their boots crunched the gravel. Moonlight glinted off the metal barrels of the handguns they held.
Damn. He considered his next move. Stay here? Obviously not, for they’d be as good as dead. Flee, but where? They’d hear the bike, guess what happened and pursue them once more.
Unless... Jace smiled.
Dropping the curtain, he raced over to the bed, jiggled Kara awake with a gentle shake to her slim shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
Only two words, but she was awake, rubbing her eyes and drawing on her jeans and T-shirt. He made a brief, protesting sigh as all that lovely, pale skin was covered in cloth, but at the same time he was sheathing his sidearm in his back holster and grabbing their packs, heading toward the warped door.
“Do I have time for the bathroom?” she whispered.
“No.”
No protests from her as she raced outside with him. Jace opened the saddlebags and tossed their gear inside. He held a finger to his mouth. She walked with him as he wheeled his bike away.
At the edge of the lot, he stopped.
“Get on,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”
Fishing a big knife out of his duffel, he ran over to the two bikes parked by the motel office. One, two and the deed was done. Air hissed out of the tires he’d punctured.
