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  He led Cora back to the truck. He tossed the shopping bags into the car and then went around to the hood. After a casual glance in both directions, he gestured Cora over.

  “Stand here.”

  She stood hugging her chest and faced toward the distant street as he jumped the terminals to get the truck running. They climbed in, Cora fussing with her cap in the mirror as he turned onto Route 87. He glanced at the signs on either side of the road as they passed.

  “Looking for a motel?” Cora asked.

  When he glanced at the girl, she had a gleam in her eyes. Did she think this was all some kind of fucked up adventure? He looked away and spotted a sign for a motel further up the road. He indicated and switched lanes.

  “I thought you wanted something quiet. Can’t we—” Cora broke off, and stabbed at something through the windshield, patting his arm with the back of her hand. “Hey, there.”

  Finn’s eyes flashed to the sign. Mountain Home Inn, with an arrow showing it was less than a mile off the Beeline Highway.

  Best rates.

  Luxury rooms.

  Free wi-fi.

  He looked back at the motel. The parking area faced the road — the Ford would be visible to anyone driving past. He turned off the indicator and switched lanes again, heading for the inn. He’d expected a squeal of delight or something from the girl, but instead, when he looked at her, she gave him a soft smile that lit up her honey-gold eyes.

  1 The Skinny Lady

  14

  Cinnamon & Firesmoke

  They stepped into chilly morning air when Finn brought the Ford to a stop as far away from the entrance of the inn as he could.

  “Do you have to keep it running?” Cora asked, glancing at him as he put up the emergency brake.

  His lack of a response was answer enough. Strange how, after spending less than a day with him, she could read his body language.

  Finn took a wad of cash from his jacket. He peeled off two hundred dollar bills, paused, and then took out a third. Then his eyes fell on her and stuck for a moment.

  She shifted. “What?”

  “Stay here.”

  “No.”

  He cocked his head, and did another scan of her face and then the outside of the inn. Letting out an irritated noise, he tapped the brim of her cap and then tugged his own cap low. “Like this.”

  Putting the truck into neutral, Finn slowly let the Ford’s clutch out, leaving the truck to idle with a quiet put-put-put.

  She followed him across the drive as he made for the inn’s foyer. Halfway across the parking lot, he paused to look back at her and then flicked his fingers, gesturing her closer. She didn’t make a sound when he came up to her and slid his arm around her shoulder.

  The inn’s reception was in a square, stone building fifty or so feet from the main road. From it, two large, rectangular buildings pointed away from Route 260. Cars were parked every few feet. The inn looked busy...and closed for new check-ins.

  The foyer door was locked. Finn leaned on the bell for a few seconds and then ducked his head to peer inside.

  “Too early?”

  “They’ll come.”

  But, after five minutes, no one had arrived. Finn leaned on the bell again — there was no way of knowing if it even made a sound — and then tried knocking.

  This brought him flush against her. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and she wriggled up against him before she could stop herself. He frowned down at her, mouth open like he was about to ask her what the hell she was doing.

  Footsteps clunked over wooden floors. The floral fabric curtaining the window set into the foyer door jerked to the side. Cora hurriedly stepped back, sliding out from under Finn’s arm despite how reluctant she was to leave his warmth.

  “Check-in’s at three,” the woman shouted through the door.

  “Please, ma’am,” Finn grated. “We’ve tried everywhere else.” He took the wad of notes from his pocket and pressed them to the window. “We’ll take whatever you have.”

  At ‘we,’ the woman looked past Finn and found Cora. Her eyes widened for a moment, and then her face relaxed into something approaching sympathy. She nodded and then disappeared into the gloom behind the door as she began unlocking it.

  The door opened to let them in. Trapped air smelling of cinnamon cookies escaped. The woman wore a dressing gown, bright red and edged with satin, that flowed around her ankles as she hurried around the reception counter. She turned a switch, and a warm light flooded the foyer. She clasped the gown to her throat when Finn stepped forward, and then her eyes flashed back to Cora.

  She kept well back, trying to stay in Finn’s shadow as she glanced about the room. A few framed photos hung on the walls. In the corner, a clean, unlit fireplace. A long rug led from the door to the middle of the counter Finn leaned against. The woman perched on a chair behind the desk and started up her computer.

  Fans whirred.

  “Have something in the back?” Finn asked in his rough voice. “Can’t sleep with traffic.”

  “I’ll take a look.” The woman leaned back in her chair to look past Finn, and Cora hurriedly turned to face one of the photos. It was an old one; a man and a woman beside a waterfall. It could have been the lady helping them; she had the same bleach-blond hair. Cora moved to a bookcase and began browsing the books as Finn and the lady spoke behind her. There was a small figurine of a ballerina — face inexpertly painted — and she studied it for a moment before slipping it into her pocket. Just in case she ever forgot about Mountain Home Inn; the ballerina would be a reminder of this morning — the brisk air, the smell of cinnamon and fire smoke.

  The lady clicked a mouse. “I’m afraid all our back rooms are taken.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yeah.” A few more clicks. “See…I had a no-show last night, but—”

  “Does it have blackout curtains?”

  “All our luxury rooms—”

  “How much?”

  This was too much for the woman. Cora peeked past Finn as the woman sat back in her chair and stared up at him with something approaching resignation.

  “Two-fifty. But it’s the honeymoon—”

  “Long as it has a bed.” Finn handed over three notes.

  The woman held up a finger. “Let me just get your—”

  “Keep it.”

  Her eyes darted up, bright with surprise, and then she gave a low nod. She turned, found the room’s key from the hooks behind her and handed it to Finn.

  “Room 103. You just keep going down—”

  “Thanks.”

  “The register—” the woman called out.

  “That’s what the extra cash was for,” Finn said. “We’ll be out before three. What’s the point of signing?”

  The woman’s mouth was open, but then she closed it again and gave a small nod.

  Finn turned and lifted his eyebrows at Cora.

  Time to go.

  She spun around, catching the woman’s frown before she could scamper out the door ahead of Finn. Outside, he slid his arm around her shoulder for support as they headed back to the idling truck.

  “She looking?” Finn asked quietly.

  Cora peeked casually over his shoulder, barely able to see past his bulging deltoid, and then hurriedly straightened.

  “Yup.”

  “Put your arm around my waist.”

  She did, doing her best to make the movement as casual as possible.

  It felt like holding a pillow stuffed with lead.

  He opened the car door for her and put a hand to the small of her back to guide her inside. Then he came around the hood of the Ford and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Still looking?”

  Cora peered around him. “Yup.”

  Finn made an unhappy sound as he guided the truck down the lane leading to the back of the inn.

  The room was the second last on the property. There were cars on either side of their parking space, but only a small li
ght was on outside each door.

  Finn stalled the truck and got out, glancing back the way they’d come. Several cars blocked them from the road and the foyer’s entrance. He closed the door and then pointed out the duffel bags by her feet. She grabbed them and their shopping bags and followed him to the room door.

  They stepped inside the pitch black room, Finn closing the door behind them before turning on the light.

  Her eyes widened.

  Behind her, Finn muttered quietly, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  15

  Missing, Presumed Abducted

  “Fuck—” Finn murmured, before cutting off with a grunt.

  Rose petals littered the floor, the bed, the edges of an intimate jacuzzi. On the coffee table, a bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket with a small pool of water under it.

  There was one king sized bed with chocolates on the pillows.

  Cora laughed, but she cut the sound off when Finn glared at her over his shoulder. He went into the kitchen and began opening the cupboards. Then he filled the kettle and put it on to boil as he went around the counter and set his duffel bag on the bed. She wandered through the room, touching some of the rose petals scattered on the jacuzzi before taking out the bottle of champagne in the now-water bucket.

  “Get some sleep,” Finn said. Cora let the champagne bottle splash back into the water and went over to the bed, unzipping her riding boots. For a moment, it looked as if she would tug off her jeans, but then she threw him a circumspect look and climbed into the bed still fully clothed.

  Honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking right now; stuck in some random inn with a guy she’d known less than twenty-four hours. Someone she’d thought, up to an hour ago, had murdered her boyfriend in cold blood. He’d be a little wary too.

  He went to check the locks on the patio door, made sure all the windows were closed and checked the kitchen door was locked and bolted.

  Lars’s and his safehouse was in Black Peak, close to Silver City. Just shy of a five-hour drive if he took the 260, barring any stops. If he caught a few hours’ sleep, then he could get them there before dark.

  He looked at Cora again. She lay close to the edge of the bed, her back turned away from him. The bed was a king-size — there was more than enough room on the other side, but he should probably stick to the couch. Finn sank down on the sofa, shifted, and grimaced when the bruises on his chest began aching.

  Fuck it.

  Finn rose again. He moved around the side of the bed and put his gun and holster on the nightstand. He hesitated, hand on his belt, and then decided to leave his jeans on. But he took out the cash, and the shitty hotel keycard the Mexican had been carrying on him.

  Three hours should see him fresh enough for the drive to Colorado. He set the alarm on the crappy burner phone and put it beside his gun. Cora had left hers on her nightstand, and he glanced over at it as he took off his boots. It was a beautiful piece. Probably a gift from her father.

  He lay on his back, folding his hands at his waist as he stared up at the ceiling. Cora’s breath was a rhythmic in-out beside him. Closing his eyes, he focused on his own breathing, relaxing every muscle in turn. This gig was turning into a nightmare. He should have been on his way back from Texas already. But he had to keep her safe until he handed her back to her father.

  Her father who was in Mexico.

  What chance was there Tony Swan’s sudden departure to Mexico wasn’t somehow related to all of this? Invisible spiders crawled over his arms. He didn’t believe in coincidence. Things always happened for a reason. Not because of some unfathomable cosmic being playing puppet master…but because people were too goddamn selfish to do anything — any-fucking-thing — without reason.

  Things always happened for a reason. He’d been the one to take Swan’s call last night. He’d chosen to turn the truck around seconds before running straight into a roadblock.

  And Cora could have chosen to keep running, instead of turning back and saving his life.

  No, not her. What had she said?

  His thoughts were turning to fog, but he grappled something substantial from them just before they slipped away and submerged him into the black respite of sleep.

  She hadn’t saved him — her death saint had.

  Cora opened her eyes with a murmured, “Hmm?” as she woke from an incomprehensible dream. There was saliva on her pillow, more by her mouth. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. She pushed onto her elbows, blinking as she scanned the room.

  Where the hell was she?

  And then, about the same time as her eyes found Finn’s unmoving body beside her on the bed, it came crashing back. Her bladder ached, and she climbed off the bed with a groan. Her legs pained as she walked over to the bathroom; her thigh muscles felt like they’d been wound too tight.

  She glanced inside the shower as she peed, and the thought of hot water over her body made her eyes roll up. Maybe that would help with the aching. She flushed the toilet and hesitantly opened the hot water tap. Ice cold. She turned it on full blast just as she heard a sound from outside.

  Finn waking up?

  She stuck her head out the door, but he was still on the bed, seemingly fast asleep. She held her hand under the shower water; barely lukewarm. She stepped into the living room, turning on the television and immediately muting it. She flicked idly through the channels, pausing when she came to a news report. From the byline, it seemed another hurricane was heading for the eastern coastline.

  Cora was halfway back to the bathroom when there was a quiet knock on the front door. She froze as a voice called out, “Hello? It’s Fiona from reception.”

  Her eyes went wide. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She looked back at Finn, but he was still fast asleep. The urge to wake him was strong, but he was obviously exhausted; the fact the knock hadn’t woken him up was evidence enough. She went to the front door, unlocked it, and opened it a crack. It was the same lady who’d checked them in, wearing jeans and a button-up shirt this time.

  “Yes?” she asked quietly, giving her a careful smile.

  “Afternoon.” The woman seemed surprised Cora wasn’t opening the door; her green eyes flickered to the handle as if she would grab it and come inside if Cora didn’t open it.

  Cora glanced back at Finn, and then sidled out of the door, keeping it open an inch. A quick scan revealed they were luckily the only two people in sight.

  “Sorry, my—” what the hell was she supposed to call Finn? “—he’s, uh, busy.”

  “Oh.” Fiona moved aside as if she wanted to look through the crack in the door.

  Cora pulled it closed. “Yes?” she asked again, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Fiona’s eyes returned to her and then widened.

  Her nose. Cora brought up a hand and then whipped it away. “Car accident,” she said. It must have had a ring of truth to it; Fiona’s face melted with concern.

  “Must have been terrible.”

  “It was. But I’m okay. Just tired.” Cora lifted her eyebrows. “Can I help?”

  “I’m sorry—” Fiona’s teeth flashed in a quick, unapologetic smile “—but your hubby said you’d be out by three.” Fiona’s eyes went back to the door “It’s quarter to.”

  “Out,” Cora repeated, her heart beginning a slow, hard knock in her chest. He had said that, hadn’t he? How long had they been asleep? “And if we wanted to stay another hour or two?”

  Fiona grimaced. “We don’t rent by the hour.”

  “Another day?” Cora ventured.

  The woman shifted her shoulders. “Thing is, I need you to sign in. I need a credit card on file for the security deposit—”

  “Credit card,” Cora repeated. Shit. Did Finn even have a credit card? If he did, would he use it? Somehow, she doubted it. “You…can you take cash?”

  Fiona’s mouth turned into an unhappy arc. “We don’t—”

  “It was stolen,” Cora cut in. “Our credit c
ard. Cards. Everything. At the accident.”

  The receptionist let out a breathy, “What?”

  “We were both unconscious,” Cora said, her mind scurrying at a hundred miles an hour. “When we woke up, my bag had been stolen, and Fi—” she cut off with a cough. “My husband’s wallet was gone.”

  Fiona looked at her a moment as if she couldn’t believe one person could have so much bad luck.

  “Luckily, we had some cash in the car that they didn’t find. How much do you need? For another day and the deposit?”

  “Six hundred,” Fiona said, still sounding unhappy about the arrangement.

  “I’ll go get it.”

  She hurried back inside. Finn was still asleep on the bed. For a moment, she thought she’d have to rifle through his pockets for the money, but a glance caught sight of a wad of cash on the dresser. She counted off three bills and put the rest back. When she came up to the door to hand over the money, Fiona took a step back and gestured at Cora.

  Cora looked back over her shoulder again. “Can’t you just take—”

  “I need to give you a receipt, sweetie. “ Fiona smiled widely. “And the dinner buffet’s just been put out. You could grab a plate for you and your…” Fiona trailed off and then gave Cora a lopsided shrug. “Your hubby, you said?”

  Cora bit the inside of her cheek. “By the front, where we came in?”

  “It’ll just take a second.”

  Cora gave a last glance back at the room, and then followed the woman. Fiona’s smile solidified a little as she cast a long, lingering look over Cora’s face.

  “You been on the road long, sweetie?” Fiona asked.

  “A few hours.” Why was this woman so nosy?

  If she did anything but follow the woman, she’d probably seem suspicious. It was just logical to pay the deposit — then Fiona wouldn’t have a reason to come looking for them again until tomorrow. Soon as Finn woke up, they could leave.

  So why the hell did she have such a bad feeling about leaving Finn behind?