The rest of the drive goes silently and smoothly, we reach the office building where Fjord parked the getaway car, and I pay the driver double the rate, seeing as he’s sweating like crazy due to my non-fitting choice of clothes. From there, I drive us the twenty minutes to the motel.
“I need a room, please.” I pull out a five-dollar bill from a hidden compartment in my bag and hand it to the man behind the counter. He’s in his sixties, his jaw seems perpetually tense, and his green eyes haunted.
“Room 215. You’ll also find some clothes in there, son.” He hands me a key and looks over my shoulder at Maddie, tipping his chin and sitting back on his orthopedic chair.
“Thank you.” I take the key and turn to the exit, taking Maddie’s elbow and ushering her along.
“What was that all about?” Maddie asks once we’re in the warm room and the heavy auto-lock clicks into place.
“The guy behind the register, his name is Boone. His son was a marine that went MIA about ten years ago,” I explain. “After a few years, when his kid’s unit started coming home, he realized a lot of them went into security, law enforcement, bureaus. He bought the motel and turned some of the rooms into safe rooms. It’s where we come when we need a safe place to pass through or lay low.”
I open the large wooden keychain and pull out a piece of paper with the safe code on it.
“I could have just hacked that, you know.” Maddie crouches next to me and watches as I open the safe and pull out a burner phone and car keys, leaving the untraceable Glock inside and shutting the safe, the automatic lock clicking into place, a new code already taking effect.
“Find something to eat and some more warm clothes, stock up on water,” I order her and go to the closet, rubbing over my arm to try and fend off the cold that’s starting to seep into my bones. “We’ll pack supplies for the road and rest a bit, but we can’t stay here much longer.”
It really wasn’t the smartest idea to run out into a Chicago winter evening barefoot with nothing but a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved tee.
“You should take a warm shower.” She places her hand on my arm, and I close my eyes with a shuddering breath.
“I can’t be your handler anymore, Maddie.” Her fingers tighten on my bicep.
“I’m sorry I overreacted and ran away,” she whispers with a quivering lip, eyes large and pleading. “I won’t do it again, I swear.”
“I can’t protect you.” I turn my gaze away from her. “I can’t have you hurt under my watch because I lose my head when you’re around.”
“But I trust you.” She takes a step towards me and buries her face in my chest.
“After what just happened, I don’t trust myself.”
“Sawyer…” she whispers into my chest, and the way she says my name, her voice trembling and small fists twisted into my shirt, clinging to me as if her life depends on it, I want to show her just how much emotion she’s awakened in the loneliest parts of my soul.
“I want you too much, Maddie.” Her head lifts, our eyes connecting. “God, those eyes, Maddie, they’ve been in my dreams all year.”
Her lips are on mine before I can stop her, soft and tender, her body warm against my shivering limbs, and despite knowing better, I pull her closer and kiss her back.
“I’ve been crushing on you hard since that day at the gym, so we can call it even.” She gives me that sexy deviant grin, and I stop myself short of throwing her over my shoulder and onto the bed.
“That’s my point, Techy. You’re not supposed to be crushing on me at all, and I mostdefinitelyam not supposed to be feeling anything for you.” I turn back to the closet, pulling out jeans and a few layers of tops, socks, a warm coat, and shoes, as well as a duffle bag for extra clothing, throwing the burner and some extra ammo in.
“If it makes you feel any better, you made itextremelyhard to get there.” She leans on the wall next to me.
“It does, actually, yes.” I turn my back on her and walk to the kitchen to find some food we can take with us, still rubbing my arms, trying to make the prickling pain coating my skin disappear.
“Are you seriously regressing to the robo-tough-guy act?” She walks in hurried steps and cuts me off. “You don’t get to give me the cold shoulder, Sawyer, not after what just happened in the safe house.”
“What choice do I have?” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Just let me do what I need to do to get you safely to your next handler, and then you never have to see or hear from me again.”
“Why would I want that?” She pushes at my chest when I try to advance.
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Why?” She throws her hands in the air.
“Because you’re scared and vulnerable, and I don’t want to use you!” I yell. “Because everyone I care about will hate me. Jonah and Andrew won’t want anything to do with me. I’ll get fired. I’ll lose the only family I have, and the only job I enjoy doing.”
“Sawyer…” She trails off, eyes full of sadness and remorse but also hurt.