Page 27 of Run Away With Me

‘Yeah. He doesn’t know I got the key wiped.’

‘Should we switch rooms?’ Brooke asked.

‘I don’t know.’ I paced over to the window and glanced at the dark parking lot. ‘Probably not. That would be even more obvious now.’

‘Okay.’ Brooke stared at me for a long moment, jiggling her knee with what I assumed was nervous energy. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘You trust people too easily,’ I replied, and went to wash the eyeliner off my face before bed.

I got the gun out of Brooke’s duffel bag and left it on the table next to the locked door, strangely comforted that we had it. Not that I was sure I could ever use it. I’d never fired a gun, and just the thought of pointing it at a person was terrifying. Tonight, though, it would be another layer of defense.

I tried to move the dresser in front of the door, too, but it seemed to be screwed into the wall, so that plan went out the window. I checked the door bolts once, twice, then a third time, and still decided to stay awake.

Brooke took the bed closest to the bathroom. That was fine by me. I wanted to be closer to the door in case something happened. Brooke had protected me from the last creepy guy. Now it was my turn.

I decided to read one of my vintage romance novels as Brooke slept, mostly to keep myself distracted. Reading about other people’s success in their love lives was a much-needed antidote to my own romantic failures.

It was after midnight when I heard footsteps on the walkway outside and sat up a little straighter. I glanced over at Brooke, who was sleeping deeply. The footsteps paused outside our door, and suddenly my heart was thundering in my throat.

I was wearing pajamas.

Of all the things to suddenly be anxious about, wearing pajamas shouldn’t have been top of the list, but it was. I felt exposed, and cold.

The door handle shifted, just a fraction.

As silently as I could, I slipped out of bed and walked on the balls of my feet over to the door, trying not to be too loud or obvious.

The person – people – outside weren’t doing the same.

‘Are you sure this is the right room?’ A woman’s voice.

‘It’s written on the fucking card.’ Chris.

There were two of them.

Shit.

I pressed my back to the door and this time felt it when they held the card against the reader. I licked my lips, scared,terrified, but determined to stay quiet.

A subtle pressure. Then again, a little harder. They tried the handle, and I felt that too. The movement rattled my bones, and with it my nerves.

‘It’s been disabled,’ the woman said. ‘For fuck’s sake, Chris.’

‘Don’t blame me! The ratty one must have done something.’

My anger flared. The ratty one wasme.

I was pissed off now, rather than scared, and so I dared to lean in to the peephole.

Chris was instantly recognizable, though I hadn’t seen the woman before. I was good at noticing people, and I definitely hadn’t seen her around. She was tall, statuesque, like Brooke, but blonde, with a very slim, pointy nose.

‘All right. Let’s go.’

For some reason, I was more scared of her than I was of Chris. He was creepy and probably wanted to rob and/or rape us. Those were known things. I had no idea what she wanted, and that was infinitely scarier.

I kept watching as they went back to the parking lot and crossed over to a black van that I could barely make out in the shadows. Chris threw something into the back, then they both disappeared.

They could still come back here tonight.