stepped inside, out of view. Like before, in less than a minute, they’d be back. “What do you think they’re saying to the guests?”
“I suspect it’s some line about the men being inspectors of some sort and they have to make a quick visual inspection of the room. The guests are probably irritated but as long as the men get in and out quickly, will probably not make too big a fuss.”
“Good. If they do, this could turn ugly.” And that would be on her conscience forever.
The men looked at all eight rooms on the first floor and started upstairs. “Are we going to stay until they finish?” she asked.
“We have to. We can’t risk the men in the second car seeing us leave.”
But that would make them sitting ducks if the men decided to search the warehouse next.
She watched as the trio made progress. The hotel clerk had his arms wrapped around himself and he looked miserably cold. The other two men, in their big black coats and dark pants, simply looked miserable. They both had square faces and flat noses.
“Do you think they might be brothers?” she asked, handing him back the binoculars.
He watched for a few minutes. “I think you’re probably right,” he said. “I didn’t see that right away because I was focused on the one guy’s stride.”
They watched in silence for a few minutes. The trio got to the door of the room where she and Cal had spent the night. They knocked. Waited. Opened the door.
If Cal had not come back to warn her, she might still be in the room, oblivious to the fact that danger was on her heels. “Thank you,” she said. “I probably can’t say it enough.”
“You’d have done the same for me,” he said.
She liked to think so. The men came out. Checked the final two rooms. Their mouths were set and their posture tense. The trio walked back toward the office.
Please, just go
, she thought. She did not want the young hotel clerk harmed.
She let out her breath when the men returned to their car and the young man went back inside the office. They were leaving. She was grateful.
Until she realized that the Mercedes Men were headed toward the warehouse. She and Cal had nowhere to go.
Chapter Seven
Cal moved quickly. “I’m going downstairs. Stay up here. No matter what, stay up here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Whatever it takes,” he said. He grabbed the coat that Stormy had shed and tossed it at her. “Lock this door behind me. Hide in that closet,” he said, pointing across the room.
“Shouldn’t we call 911?”
“Won’t do us any good. By the time they get here, it’s going to be over, one way or the other.” He could tell she didn’t like the sound of that.
“But—”
“No time,” he said. The Mercedes Men were halfway down the road. He pulled up his pant leg, reached inside his cowboy boot and came out with the knife that he kept strapped to his ankle. He pressed a button on the handle and the blade extended. He handed it to her.
She didn’t recoil or throw up her hands. She took it, tested the weight in the palm of her hand, then gripped the handle.
“Do you think you could stab someone?” he asked.
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
“Good. If anybody besides me opens that closet door, let them get close and then go for center body mass. Don’t hesitate. You’ll only get one chance.”
He took two steps toward the door.
“Cal,” she said.
He turned and she was close. Close enough to reach her arms up, pull his face toward her and kiss him hard. It was unexpected and explosively hot. He opened his mouth and their tongues battled.
When she pulled back, he felt as if he’d been hit by an incoming missile. Dazed.
“Be careful,” she said.
He was generally never careful but almost always successful. “I’ll do my best,” he managed.
He ran lightly down the stairs. If the Mercedes Men followed their pattern, two would enter. He would have the advantage of surprise. It would be enough unless one of them got
“I suspect it’s some line about the men being inspectors of some sort and they have to make a quick visual inspection of the room. The guests are probably irritated but as long as the men get in and out quickly, will probably not make too big a fuss.”
“Good. If they do, this could turn ugly.” And that would be on her conscience forever.
The men looked at all eight rooms on the first floor and started upstairs. “Are we going to stay until they finish?” she asked.
“We have to. We can’t risk the men in the second car seeing us leave.”
But that would make them sitting ducks if the men decided to search the warehouse next.
She watched as the trio made progress. The hotel clerk had his arms wrapped around himself and he looked miserably cold. The other two men, in their big black coats and dark pants, simply looked miserable. They both had square faces and flat noses.
“Do you think they might be brothers?” she asked, handing him back the binoculars.
He watched for a few minutes. “I think you’re probably right,” he said. “I didn’t see that right away because I was focused on the one guy’s stride.”
They watched in silence for a few minutes. The trio got to the door of the room where she and Cal had spent the night. They knocked. Waited. Opened the door.
If Cal had not come back to warn her, she might still be in the room, oblivious to the fact that danger was on her heels. “Thank you,” she said. “I probably can’t say it enough.”
“You’d have done the same for me,” he said.
She liked to think so. The men came out. Checked the final two rooms. Their mouths were set and their posture tense. The trio walked back toward the office.
Please, just go
, she thought. She did not want the young hotel clerk harmed.
She let out her breath when the men returned to their car and the young man went back inside the office. They were leaving. She was grateful.
Until she realized that the Mercedes Men were headed toward the warehouse. She and Cal had nowhere to go.
Chapter Seven
Cal moved quickly. “I’m going downstairs. Stay up here. No matter what, stay up here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Whatever it takes,” he said. He grabbed the coat that Stormy had shed and tossed it at her. “Lock this door behind me. Hide in that closet,” he said, pointing across the room.
“Shouldn’t we call 911?”
“Won’t do us any good. By the time they get here, it’s going to be over, one way or the other.” He could tell she didn’t like the sound of that.
“But—”
“No time,” he said. The Mercedes Men were halfway down the road. He pulled up his pant leg, reached inside his cowboy boot and came out with the knife that he kept strapped to his ankle. He pressed a button on the handle and the blade extended. He handed it to her.
She didn’t recoil or throw up her hands. She took it, tested the weight in the palm of her hand, then gripped the handle.
“Do you think you could stab someone?” he asked.
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
“Good. If anybody besides me opens that closet door, let them get close and then go for center body mass. Don’t hesitate. You’ll only get one chance.”
He took two steps toward the door.
“Cal,” she said.
He turned and she was close. Close enough to reach her arms up, pull his face toward her and kiss him hard. It was unexpected and explosively hot. He opened his mouth and their tongues battled.
When she pulled back, he felt as if he’d been hit by an incoming missile. Dazed.
“Be careful,” she said.
He was generally never careful but almost always successful. “I’ll do my best,” he managed.
He ran lightly down the stairs. If the Mercedes Men followed their pattern, two would enter. He would have the advantage of surprise. It would be enough unless one of them got
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