Fugitive: A Bad Boy Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 2) (10 page)

T
he entire ride
, Kieran gripped my hands tight, shooting me warning glances once in a while. His threat echoed in my head.
Call for help and Rob dies.
I wasn't sure if it was an empty threat or not, but I decided to err on the side of caution. After all, he could be a wanted murderer for all I knew. I wanted to hate his guts, I really did. He'd humiliated me, torn my dress and forced me to walk around Walmart with my ass practically hanging out...

So why the hell was my heart beating so fast? Was I on an adrenaline high? Why did I have butterflies in my stomach? And why did his warm hand feel so goddamn good on top of mine? Was this a symptom of Stockholm Syndrome?

After a few minutes, we pulled into an abandoned motel parking lot. Bains Motel was a squat, one-story building boxed in on all sides by pine trees, some laced with strings of tacky holiday lights. Rob paid the driver in a large wad of ones and fives. Then, he pulled a baseball cap over my head to obscure my face. Hiking his duffle over his shoulder, Rob took my hand and we walked inside the motel.

Why did he always have to hold my hand? And why did I like it?

The reception area was all cracking lino and shaggy, seventies carpets with outdated décor. A low-class, utterly forgettable place. A place where questionable activity went unquestioned.
Perfect. Just my luck.

“Can I help you?” a pale man with long blond dreadlocks asked. He was focused on his computer, his passive face not even bothering to meet ours.

“We need a room,” Kieran said.

“With two beds,” I added.

“Seventy-five bucks,” the man said, groping behind him for a set of keys.

Kieran counted out a fifty, twenty and a five and handed it over.

The man took the money and shoved it in his pockets. He twirled a brass-colored key around his finger. “Follow me.”

Five minutes later, we were shown into our suite by the gap-toothed old Hippie. “Name's Marvin,” he said. “Check out by noon. Premium cable is extra. If you have any questions, I’ll be in my office.”

“Thanks, Marvin,” Kieran said.

After Kieran shut the door, he finally let go of my wrists. They were sore, so I rubbed them. I sank into one of the paisley print beds and folded my arms over my chest. “They'll be looking for me,” I said. “They'll find me. Then they'll put you away.”

“Rachelle,” Kieran said, his voice sounding softer. “I'm not a bad guy. Trust me.” I’d heard that one before. He peeked through the blinds, then fastened the brass chain over the door.

I scoffed. “You're deluded if you think I'll believe a single word that comes out of your mouth.”

“Believe what you want.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and yanked hard. “I did everything you told me to do. Let you rip up my wedding dress and abandon it, along with my limo, at a
Walmart
. Now you've taken me to some shitty motel and you want me to listen to you? Please.”

“I'll explain everything when you're ready to listen,” Kieran said, flipping on the TV. He sat down on his bed and changed channels for several minutes. “Looks like you haven't made the news yet.”

“My friends will call the cops. They know I'm not the runaway bride type,” I said. “They saw me with you minutes before I disappeared. They'll run the limo’s plates and track us using highway traffic cameras...”

“You watch too many movies,” Kieran said. “By the time they even find someone to take your case, we'll be in Seattle.”

“We? Why does your crazy plan have to involve me? You don't know me; I don't know you. Can't we just part ways and never see each other again?”

Kieran shook his head. “On the contrary, I need your help, Rachelle. You’re my failsafe and my backup plan.”

“Don't even say my name. It sounds disgusting coming from your mouth,” I spat.

“Rachelle,” Kieran repeated, brows pinched together.

“What did you do, Kieran?” I asked. “Why are the cops after you?”

“It's complicated.”

I angled my body away from him. “Stop these goddamn riddles, Kieran. Either tell me what the hell is going on or don't talk at all.”

“I will tell you, bit by bit. As soon as you calm down and listen to what I have to say,” Kieran said. “You're mad, I get it. I—I know you don't trust me, and that's perfectly reasonable. But when your anger dies down a bit more, I'll explain everything.”

I dragged in air for several seconds, speechless, perplexed and unbearably hot. Every pore on my body felt clogged and suffocated; my face especially. I stood up and walked to the bathroom.

“Please don't do anything stupid,” Kieran called out.

“Like what, escape through this impossibly tiny window?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he said.

“Go to hell.” I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with ice-cold water. My eyes stung, and my dry lips were cracked. After wiping the muck off my face, I looked up at the window. I was skinny, sure, but that one by two foot window wasn't big enough to fit a child through. I glanced at the mirror, barely even recognizing the woman who stared back at me. A light smattering of freckles on a rubbed-raw face. Stricken eyes, furrowed, over-plucked brows and swollen lips. Hideous.

I was supposed to be married by now. On a flight to Bali. Not playing mind games with a maniac.

I stepped out of the bathroom, my irritated eyes squinting from the pain.

“What do you want for dinner?” Kieran asked. He had the motel phone cradled against his shoulder. “I'm placing an order.”

“I'm not hungry,” I replied.

“You need to eat, Rachelle.”

“Or what, you're going to force-feed me now? Some kidnapper you are.”

“I'm
not
a kidnapper,” Kieran ground out. “This is—fuck, never mind. I wouldn't expect you to understand anyway.” He cleared his throat then began placing an order for Chinese takeout.

My best chance for rescue would be to wait until he was in the bathroom or otherwise preoccupied, then use the phone to call the cops. Until that window of opportunity, I'd have to play nice. And be strong. A herculean task, but not impossible.

I patted my face dry with a hand towel before returning to my bed. “What did you order for me?” I asked.

“You said you weren't hungry,” he replied.

“Well I'm hungry now.”

Kieran shrugged. “You can have some of my Orange Chicken then.”

“I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier,” I said, trying my best to sound sincere. “You probably have a good reason for doing what you did. I was just acting like a bitch.”

Kieran looked up at me with arched brow. “You really mean that?”

“Mmhm.” I took a seat beside him. “Should we just start over? You know, on the right foot this time?”

Kieran seemed wary. “What sparked the change in attitude, Princess?”

I bit my lip and thought for a moment. “We all keep secrets, we all have a past. I was just too emotional earlier to see things from your point of view. Some nice cold water sobered me up. I’m sure you had a reason for doing what you did.”

My words seemed to hit the sweet spot for Kieran. His face softened. “Thank you, for understanding. I was hoping you'd come around.”

“How about after dinner you explain everything?” I asked. “I won't judge or even interrupt, promise. I just want to help you, Kieran.”

Kieran nodded. “Okay, Rachelle.”

I sat up straight in bed and willed myself to do my breathing exercises. Positive affirmations and a few prayers would really help tide me through the next few hours.

Kieran flicked on the T.V. “Anything you want to watch?”

“No, you can choose,” I said. I took a few moments to gather my wits and compose myself. I could do this. Maybe I’d laugh about all of this in a couple days and…Okay, so I wouldn’t laugh about it. But at least if I played my cards right, I’d escape unscathed, and Kieran would be held accountable for his actions. After my heart rate slowed down, I came up with a plan.

We watched Law & Order for about fifteen minutes before a knock came at the door. Kieran opened it a crack, ascertained that it was indeed the delivery man, and unhooked the chain.

“$20.75,” the Chinese delivery guy said, handing Kieran the bill. The squat, pug-faced man was carrying a small plastic bag with two styrofoam containers inside. He was my direct connection to the outside world. He could help me.

Kieran dug through his jean pockets but came up empty. “Shit, I can't find my wallet,” Kieran said. “Hold on.”

“Oh, maybe it fell out somewhere,” I said, hoping my plan would work.

“Probably,” he said. He turned to the delivery man. “Just wait a minute.” Then he got on his hands and knees to check under the bed.

In the split second Kieran was flat on the ground, I pressed my note into the man's hand. He tried to read it then and there, but I shook my head. I gestured for him to put it inside his pocket. For half a second, we exchanged a meaningful (I hope) glance.

Kieran stood up a moment later with his wallet. “Sorry, fell on the floor.” He pulled out a twenty and then a five, gave it to the man and bade him good night. The confused man thanked Kieran several times for the generous tip and then disappeared out into the parking lot. I prayed to God he'd remember to read my note. My little maneuver caused my heart to beat faster again. It’d been a very risky move, but if it worked, I’d be saved.
Godspeed, my good man.

“You wanted some Orange Chicken, right?” Kieran asked me.

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Sounds good.”

While Kieran opened up the steaming containers, I glanced at the door once in a while, trying not to act too anxious. My hands were tight fists and my nails left painful crescents on my palm.
Please read my note,
I prayed.

“Here,” Kieran said, handing me a carton with greasy fried rice and glossy chunks of fried orange chicken. The sticky-sweet aroma soothed me somewhat. My stomach growled.

I plastered a smile on my face and said, “Thanks.” After splitting the bamboo chopsticks, and rubbing off the splinters, I dug in. I was starving; hadn’t eaten anything since a Cobb salad last night. I had been too anxious about squeezing into my dress to eat more.

A few bites later, the queasiness in my stomach abated and my nerves calmed a bit. I swallowed the gall that kept bobbing up and down in my throat and said, “Thanks for dinner.”

“I never meant to scare you,” Kieran said. “I panicked, Rachelle. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Or humiliate you.”

“I know,” I said, trying to sound understanding though I was anything but. “I don't blame you. Like I said, you probably had your reasons.”

“Do you think you're ready to hear me out now?”

I nodded. “Take your time. I'm listening.”

Kieran stood up and tossed his empty carton and plastic fork in the trash. Then he cleared my bed too and sat beside me. “First, you need to know something,” he began.

But before he could finish his sentence, a loud knock came at the door and Kieran’s eyes flew wide open. Within seconds, he had his gun drawn and cocked. I’d never seen someone arm themselves so quickly. Was this it? Were the cops waiting on the other side?

Kieran nodded to the door and hissed, “Open it and make them leave.”

My nostrils flared as I inched toward the door. This was it, my last chance for rescue. If I screwed this up, I'd probably be dead by morning. Kieran was suspicious of me now. That wild look in his eyes told me his next actions could be unpredictably violent.

With shaky hands, I unhooked the chain and cracked open the door. My heart fell when I saw an innocuous old lady standing on the other side. She looked like she was pushing seventy, with her white hair styled in a pixie cut.

“C-Can I help you?” I asked.

An easy smile spread across her face. “Hi dear, name’s Mel. I'm Marvin's wife.”

“Hi Mel,” I said. “How can I help you?” My eyes were bulging with fear and I prayed Mel could see how terrified I was.

“Well, Marvin said the bedsheets hadn't been changed yet so I came by to give you some fresh ones,” Mel said, gesturing to the brown fabric folded in her arms. It smelled like Downy.

“Hold on,” I said. I turned to Kieran and arched my brow. Kieran tucked his gun into his pants and then opened the door wider.

“Come on in, Mel,” he said.

Mel giggled. “Oh, I didn't realize you had a gentleman friend in here.”

“Please make it fast,” Kieran said. “We were just about to go to bed.”

“Of course, of course,” Mel said, walking over to the beds and pulling off the comforters. “Sorry for the intrusion, I'll be out of your hair in a jiffy!”

This was my last chance.

If I didn't warn Mel...and I let her walk...

I looked over at Kieran. He had his eyes trained on me the entire time. It was just too risky. I trembled, chewing my bottom lip.

Mel was folding the last hospital corner on my mattress when I said, “Mel, you—”

“—Did a very thorough job,” Kieran finished my sentence. He snaked his arm around my waist and slipped a fiver into Mel's palm. “Please don't disturb us again. Thank you…Mel.”

“Thank you so much,” Mel said, pocketing the bill. “I'll leave a sign on your door. Y’all have a good night.” She winked at us as she shut the door.

My heart sank.

“Were you about to ask Mel for help?” Kieran asked.

“No,” I lied. I prayed again that my note would be delivered into the right hands. It was my salvation. I stretched. “I’m exhausted. Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”

Kieran nodded. “It has been a long day. Go ahead and sleep.” He crawled into his bed and sat there, propped up by two pillows. Then he whipped out his phone and began scrolling through it. His phone! If I could somehow steal it while he was asleep…I could leave and call for help while I made my getaway.

I turned my back to him and tried to feign deep, sleeping breaths. I just had to be patient. He’d cave eventually and shut his eyes…

But after what felt like half an hour, Kieran was still on his phone. I flipped over and glared at him. “Your phone is so bright, I can't fall asleep.”

“I need it to keep me awake,” he explained. “I can't risk you leaving in the middle of the night and ratting me out.”