DARK BLISS (Dangerous Games,) by Madison Smart Page B

by staying with him, in fact only be a burden. Telling the police what happened would reduce his chances of getting shot. In fact, if I could only convince him to go with me and give himself up, we’d both be free by this time tomorrow. All I had to do was convince to drop his paranoia.
    Fat chance.
    I heard a soft, persistent rapping but it wasn’t at my door. After a moment there was a voice, sleepy and annoyed – a trucker, I supposed. Then I heard Rock’s voice, low and urgent. A short exchange followed and the voices grew faint. Rock must have gone into the man’s room. What for? Why was he wasting precious time?
    If I was going to take action , now was the moment, while he was occupied. If I ran, I could be at the stairs in thirty seconds and out of sight a moment later. There was absolutely no reason to linger.
    So why was I lingering? What was so hard about leaving Rock?
    I stood and walked to the door. I turned the doorknob. Now or never.
     

Midnight Escape
     
    R ock shoved money in the trucker’s hand. They shook and he left for his room. He quickly gathered his things, walked out, scanned the parking lot, then opened the door to Rory’s room. She was sitting on the bed. “Let’s go,” he told her. She rose and joined him outside. He gestured at the stairs and they hurried down. He pointed, “This way.”
    She didn’t move. “Your motorcycle is this way,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction.
    God, women! Never just trust and go along . There’s always a discussion. “We’re not taking the bike.”
    “ Why not?”
    “They’ll be looking for it. We wouldn’t get fifty miles.”
    “But we’re only miles from Hermosillo, aren’t we?”
    “ About sixty but the consulate won’t be open for hours. Even if we make the city, we’ll have to dodge the local cops. The minute one spots my bike, it’s Game Over.”
    “We can—”
    “No more talking! Come on.”
    They walked quickly, shielded from view by the row of parked trucks. Finally he turned and made his way between two vehicles, Rory following. He scanned the empty lot one last time and pointed to a separate lot reserved for eighteen-wheelers, the behemoths of the trucking world. The big trucks were nearly two hundred feet away with no cover between them and the motel. He grabbed her hand and they ran.
    The tall bright sodium lights of the parking lot made them visible for any eyes to see. Any moment he expected to hear shouts of “Alto, alto!” It took forever to cross, like they were caught in one of those dreams where you run but at a maddening crawl. Once safe in the shadows of the eighteen-wheelers, he knew they’d actually done in less than a minute – though without her he could have done it thirty seconds.
    B ut then she was the reason he was doing this, wasn’t she? If not for her, he’d get on his bike and take his chances; he’d been in tougher spots. The thing was he hadn’t the right to make her share the risk.
    He wondered briefly if he would have done better to leave her at the motel, tell her to go to the office and surrender. At least she’d be in no danger of getting shot. Once she was at a police station, she could contact the American consulate. After that, she’d be safe and eventually free to return home. What bothered him was what might happen between arrest and arraignment. These were state police who would take her to the nearest town with a jail for female prisoners. That could be a long drive. It was unlikely these two cops were dirty but word of her capture would spread fast, maybe to unfriendly ears.
    That branding business bothered him. This hadn’t been any ordinary snatch. Maybe somebody wasn’t after an American girl, however pretty. Maybe they wanted her , Aurora Constable. Not for her money though. Then for what? Who the hell gives an order to brand a woman? Only a crazy man. He made himself stop thinking about it. He had more pressing concerns.
    There were more than a dozen