“Exactly. Unless you object, we’ll go there first and make sure Blake has us on camera.”
“That works,” she says and slides on her coat. “You should take the backpack we have with us. It looks legit like you’re headed into the locker room to change for your workout and you can put what you find inside it.”
“You read my mind,” I say, indicating my phone. “Blake sent us a roadmap to the two buildings.”
She nods and we both study the layout, the direction we’re traveling to our room, and to the club. I give us both one full minute and then reach for my door. Ana does the same for hers.
Once I’m outside I open the rear door and pull on my coat, simply to look more legit, and because it hides the extra gun I pull from under the seat and stick it in my belt at my back. Next, I grab the backpack and meet Ana at the front of the car.
At this point, we’re out in the open and neither of us is focused on anything but our surroundings. The garage appears empty and we start walking. We’re inside an elevator quickly, and I punch the lobby level. Kurt once told me a story of watching a friend get shot the fuck up the minute the elevator doors opened on him. Years later, I saw it happen to someone else. Ana must know that story because, in unison, both of us step to one side of the car, away from the door. That’s where we stay until the doors are open, and we determine it’s safe to exit.
Once we’re in the lobby, a few people mill about but no one raises a red flag. Ana and I find the room signs and follow the arrow to our destination. Once we’re at the door to our room, I use our electronic key and we’re inside. She enters first, and by the time I’m inside, she’s already searching the room. When we’re all clear, she tosses her coat on the bed and lays down her rules. “The club is basement level and through a door,” she says. “It should take you five minutes to get to the locker. Another three to unlock it and pack it up. Another five to return to this room. You have twelve minutes, from the time you leave me here to return, or I’m coming after you. And that’s too long as far as I’m concerned,” she states.
“That adds up to thirteen minutes.”
“Not if you go faster. Go faster, Luke.”
I laugh at her demand, and she scowls in reaction. “This isn’t funny,” she reprimands. “Do you know how intense it will be for me to wait here and worry about you?”
I toss my backpack on the bed, catch her to me, and stroke her hair from her face. “When I told you I had a reason to live, I meant it. I missed the hell out of you, woman. I’ll be back.” I kiss her, and not fast or gently. I close my mouth over hers, tongue stroking deep, drinking her in, every last drop of sweet, sexy woman, I can dare right now, in this room with danger punching at our door. It’s with a herculean effort that I tear my mouth from hers and promise, “Eleven minutes.” I release her, grab my bag, walk to the door, and fuck me, leaving her in that room feels as if I’m leaving her forever.
As I walk away, I decide eleven minutes just became ten.