off a lucky shot. The trick was letting them get far enough inside that the other men waiting in the car didn’t realize that their buddies were under attack and come running. That would change the odds.
He absolutely could not let any of them get upstairs. While the knife gave Stormy a bit of protection, it was an inefficient weapon against a gun.
He stood flat against the wall, near the door that they would either pick the lock or simply knock down. He listened hard. Could hear the first set of tires. The car engine. Second set of tires. That engine. Then nothing for a minute.
Car door slam. Second car door slam.
He breathed normally, in and out, in and out. He needed to get steady fast. Needed to get that kiss out of his head.
His buddies would be laughing their tails off knowing that his knees were practically knocking together. Not because of the Mercedes Men. Them he could handle.
The doorknob jiggled. It had been an easy door to unlock. If they had any skill at it, it shouldn’t take them long.
He listened for the lock to tumble.
What he heard was a muffled cry, the voice deep. Then fast conversation at the door in a language that he didn’t know. Then the sound of running feet. Two car doors. Engines changing gears.
The cars were both leaving.
What the hell?
Then it made sense. He heard the sound of another approaching vehicle, coming from the direction of the hotel. Big rumbling engine.
The engines from the two cars were fading. They’d turned right out of the parking lot, headed back toward the Interstate.
He needed to see. He ran back upstairs to the windows.
It was a big delivery truck. The sign on the side said Wardman Toboggan Company.
It was a “good news, bad news” kind of moment.
Good news in that the Mercedes Men had decided a confrontation wasn’t in their best interests. Bad news in that the likelihood that the truck would pull into the garage and see their rental car was pretty high.
He’d had no compunction about taking out the Mercedes Men but didn’t want to have that same fight with an unsuspecting employee.
“Change of plans,” he said, turning. Then smiled when Stormy didn’t immediately open the closet door. Good girl. “Just me,” he said. “Mercedes Men backed off when a company truck started down the road. Let’s roll. We need to be in our vehicle and ready to go if those garage doors open.”
She opened the closet door and tried to hand him back the knife. “You keep it,” he said.
She shrugged, retracted the blade and put it into the pocket of his coat that she’d once again put on. She didn’t ask any additional questions, just followed him down the stairs and got inside the SUV. He could hear the engine of the truck. It needed a tune-up.
He started the SUV. Counted to five. The garage doors started rising. All three of them. He saw the nose of the big truck in front of the third door. Waited until the door in front of the SUV was open far enough that they could squeeze under.
Gunned it. And they were out of the building and sliding around the edge of the big warehouse, likely before the man in the truck had any idea what had happened.
He went the opposite direction of the Mercedes Men, heading back toward the hotel. But he didn’t stop there. Just kept going until he was also back on the Interstate.
She didn’t say a word until they were safely back on the road with nobody following them. “That was fun,” she said.
He turned, trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic. He didn’t think so.
It was oddly endearing and very attractive. “Ready for the drive?” he asked.
“Sure. But what about the people at Wardman’s?”
“Well, I suspect it’ll go sort of like this. When they first saw my SUV pulling out, they probably would have tried to figure out if there was a legitimate reason for me to be inside. For example, did the SUV belong to someone who works there? When they came up empty on that, they might have tried to get a plate
He absolutely could not let any of them get upstairs. While the knife gave Stormy a bit of protection, it was an inefficient weapon against a gun.
He stood flat against the wall, near the door that they would either pick the lock or simply knock down. He listened hard. Could hear the first set of tires. The car engine. Second set of tires. That engine. Then nothing for a minute.
Car door slam. Second car door slam.
He breathed normally, in and out, in and out. He needed to get steady fast. Needed to get that kiss out of his head.
His buddies would be laughing their tails off knowing that his knees were practically knocking together. Not because of the Mercedes Men. Them he could handle.
The doorknob jiggled. It had been an easy door to unlock. If they had any skill at it, it shouldn’t take them long.
He listened for the lock to tumble.
What he heard was a muffled cry, the voice deep. Then fast conversation at the door in a language that he didn’t know. Then the sound of running feet. Two car doors. Engines changing gears.
The cars were both leaving.
What the hell?
Then it made sense. He heard the sound of another approaching vehicle, coming from the direction of the hotel. Big rumbling engine.
The engines from the two cars were fading. They’d turned right out of the parking lot, headed back toward the Interstate.
He needed to see. He ran back upstairs to the windows.
It was a big delivery truck. The sign on the side said Wardman Toboggan Company.
It was a “good news, bad news” kind of moment.
Good news in that the Mercedes Men had decided a confrontation wasn’t in their best interests. Bad news in that the likelihood that the truck would pull into the garage and see their rental car was pretty high.
He’d had no compunction about taking out the Mercedes Men but didn’t want to have that same fight with an unsuspecting employee.
“Change of plans,” he said, turning. Then smiled when Stormy didn’t immediately open the closet door. Good girl. “Just me,” he said. “Mercedes Men backed off when a company truck started down the road. Let’s roll. We need to be in our vehicle and ready to go if those garage doors open.”
She opened the closet door and tried to hand him back the knife. “You keep it,” he said.
She shrugged, retracted the blade and put it into the pocket of his coat that she’d once again put on. She didn’t ask any additional questions, just followed him down the stairs and got inside the SUV. He could hear the engine of the truck. It needed a tune-up.
He started the SUV. Counted to five. The garage doors started rising. All three of them. He saw the nose of the big truck in front of the third door. Waited until the door in front of the SUV was open far enough that they could squeeze under.
Gunned it. And they were out of the building and sliding around the edge of the big warehouse, likely before the man in the truck had any idea what had happened.
He went the opposite direction of the Mercedes Men, heading back toward the hotel. But he didn’t stop there. Just kept going until he was also back on the Interstate.
She didn’t say a word until they were safely back on the road with nobody following them. “That was fun,” she said.
He turned, trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic. He didn’t think so.
It was oddly endearing and very attractive. “Ready for the drive?” he asked.
“Sure. But what about the people at Wardman’s?”
“Well, I suspect it’ll go sort of like this. When they first saw my SUV pulling out, they probably would have tried to figure out if there was a legitimate reason for me to be inside. For example, did the SUV belong to someone who works there? When they came up empty on that, they might have tried to get a plate
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