Number six. Only four doors away from theirs. There was barely a drip from the AC. Probably because it had only been turned on recently. He wondered how many goons waited, sweating behind the door. Knowing Sloan, he’d probably only sent one or two. A dealer of Luke’s caliber wouldn’t have been worthy of more effort. But regardless of his rank in the organization, regardless of the magnitude of the slight, Sloan would’ve dealt with the double-cross. It was one of the rules of the game.
He tensed when he noticed the minuscule twitch of the curtain and forced himself to take a careless sip of the scalding coffee.
It was going down now. Luke felt the certainty pump through him like a shot of adrenaline. They would take him out and then they’d walk four doors down, where Jilly lay tangled in the sheets. And they’d take her out, too.
He jerked his thoughts away from the kids. They were all in big trouble. He took another sip of the coffee and grimaced as it burned all the way down his throat. He heard the door creak open and said a silent prayer as he slowly turned around.
Chapter 3
Jillian bolted upright when the door bounced back against the wall. Sunlight streamed into the room, blinding her for a moment. When she opened her eyes, a large shadow blocked the doorway. She hadn’t even caught her breath before he was on her, shaking her, pulling her from the bed.
“What! What is it?”
He jerked her face up, trapping it between two very large hands. Hands that were spattered with blood. She opened her mouth to scream and he quickly clapped his fingers over her lips.
“Not a sound,” he breathed in her ear. She nodded and he slowly removed his hand.
“Luke, for God’s sake! What the hell is going on? You scared—”
He put his hand back over her mouth. “Not now. There’s no time. I need you to listen. Can you do that?” She nodded again.
“We’re leaving. Right now.”
“But why—”
He held up his hand in warning. “Later. Get the kids up. I’m gonna move the car. When I pull in front of the door, you haul ass out there and toss ’em in to me. Got it?”
“They need to dress and brush their teeth—”
“Screw their teeth! Do you see this blood? I didn’t cut myself shaving.”
Jillian felt her blood pressure skyrocket. “Well, fine, then. You’re in such a blasted hurry. Go get the car.” She hadn’t been awake two minutes and he’d already managed to make her lose her temper. What kind of mother woke her children and threw them into a car? With no breakfast? Without a washup? Why, the child authorities would be all over her in no time.
“And take the overnight bag with you. It’ll save a trip.”
“How soon can you be ready?”
She stripped off her gym shorts right in front of him. If he was going to make her rush, well then, dammit, she would show him a thing or two. She flung the shorts into the overnight bag and yanked out her jeans. Without stopping to put them on, she turned back to the dresser and with a scowl, swept all the kids’ loose items into the duffel, clearing the top in a heartbeat. She zipped the bag angrily and hurled it across the bed at Luke, who caught it in the chest, watching her with something close to shock in his eyes.
“How about two minutes? Is that bloody quick enough?”
“Look, there’s no need to go off.”
“Go off? You burst in here, scare the daylights out of me. It’s not even dawn yet and I am so not a morning pers—”
He held up one hand and the look in his eyes was enough to silence her. “Not now. You can chew me out in the car. Get the kids up.”
His grim, no-nonsense stare made her bite back the argument she wanted badly to start. She glared at him as she shimmied into her jeans and rammed her T-shirt into the waistband. He was still watching her when she pulled her hair back into a lopsided ponytail.
“You can have three minutes,” he countered.
“Your generosity knows no bounds.” Luke’s eyes narrowed at her waspish tone and she sensed that he was barely hanging on to his temper.
“Look, honey, I don’t need this right now. I just took out two guys who were about ten minutes from breakin’ down the door and killing all of us.” He nodded at her startled gasp. “Yeah, that’s right, Your Highness. So if it ain’t too friggin’ much trouble, I’d like to get the hell outta here as soon as possible.”
Jilly swallowed hard. Lord, she’d really gotten into it this time. “Luke…I—I’m sorry.”
“Forget it.” He turned on his heel and strode to the window, stopping to peer cautiously through the curtain before he cracked the door open. “Three minutes,” he reminded her.
“Whatever,” she muttered, irritated all over again at his orders. “You’re the one with the blasted stopwatch.”
It had been more than an hour and she still hadn’t spoken. It was just as well, Luke conceded. He needed to concentrate. They’d cleared the motel without any incidents. Well, if one considered neutralizing two enemies and pissing off Jillian as incident-free, then he was golden. He still hadn’t quite recovered from her impromptu striptease. Damn, she was hot. Burning hot. She had legs that went on for miles—legs that ended with a tiny pair of bikini panties that barely managed to cover her curvy butt. Along with those million-dollar legs however, went a very cranky morning disposition.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. Focus. He had to stay focused. They were safe for now. The road was clear behind them, and there wasn’t a single car in sight up ahead. He hadn’t seen anything to indicate they were being tailed. Another hour and they’d cross into North Carolina. Then he’d try Murphy again. Try Duncan. Hell, try anyone. Pretty soon they’d have to ditch their ride and find another.
As much as he was dreading it, he’d have to ask Mary Poppins how much money she carried. He prayed it was a lot—and that she’d converted her cash at the airport. If they were forced to convert British pounds or Euros to cash, they’d stand out like a sore thumb. And right now, he didn’t want to be remembered by anyone.
Hopefully, it would only be another day or so. There was a DEA office in Charlotte. He’d contact the agent in charge and request a safe house…just until he found out what the hell had happened down in Spartaville. Nothing since yesterday morning had gone according to procedure. And he’d just thrown the rulebook out the window back there at the Fleabag Inn.
Just as he’d suspected, Sloan had sent a couple of goons after him. One little explosion, and all of a sudden, Billy T. Lathrop, drug dealer extraordinaire, had been expendable. Luke knew Sloan had been growing suspicious of him, had sensed a distinct wariness on the supplier’s part over the last week or so. What he couldn’t figure out was why. Why now?
As far as he knew, his cover was solid. Murphy’s, too. They’d tag-teamed Sloan from the beginning but he and his partner had never even been seen together. There hadn’t been any outward signs to indicate he’d been made. But suppliers were an edgy bunch, and for good reason. There was always someone looking to take their place.
Luke had done everything Sloan had asked, passed every test. As Billy Lathrop, he had painstakingly won his trust. It was what the Gianetti boys did best. Luke had discovered long ago that he had the ability to persuade just about anyone to do just about anything. Well, he conceded, maybe not everyone. It hadn’t worked on Linda, at least not at the end.
Jillian was a piece of cake. She was wide open to suggestion. It hadn’t taken ten minutes before he’d convinced her she could perform surgery. And damn if she hadn’t risen to the challenge. He made a mental note to thank her later. Of course, she was miles apart from his former wife. Jilly