in bed. The fog of
sleep cleared and she remembered where she was—a cheap motel room currently
bathed in darkness and Tom down the street keeping an eye out. The last couple
of days flashed in her head, and she tried to shut off the instant replay. She
wanted to look toward the future. Thanks to Tom, he gave her hope that she'd
survive this fight against Jared Blatwell.
Rat-a-tat.
She
jumped and scrambled out of bed. She darted behind the door—her only exit. She
placed her hand on the wooden door. Not that her strength against a man the
size of Jared would keep the door closed.
"Charlise,"
a male voice spoke from the other side of the door.
She
pressed an ear to the wood, uncertain of the voice.
Tom's
low tones came through the door again. "Charlise, it's Tom. Let me
in."
Positive
of the identity of the knocker, she unlocked the door and stepped back.
Tom
hurried inside, shut and locked the door, and then stepped over to the
curtained window.
"What's
going on?" She walked over and gripped his arm. "Did Jared find
us?"
"We
need to get out of here." Tom peeked between the space he made in the
curtains. "Now."
But
how? How had he found them so fast?
"I
don't want to stick around and ask him how he managed to track us down."
He cussed under his breath. "I underestimated the asshole."
Charlise
moved to the door and waited for Tom to direct her on what to do. Fully awake,
ready to run, she'd rather get out of the room where they stood a fighting
chance. The hotel trapped them into an area Jared could pick them off, one by
one.
"It
looks like he brought company. Two black sedans have circled the motel every
fifteen minutes, give or take." He ran his hands up and down her arms.
"You've got to pull yourself together, be strong, and do exactly what I
say. No arguing, no going off on your own, understand?"
She
nodded, watching his face. She'd follow him around the world if that's what it
took to get away from Jared alive.
She
needed to tell him how he'd changed her life for the better and how the day he
helped her escape out of Jared's clutches gave her hope. He needed to
understand why she'd acted crazy in the car. Most of all, she wanted to tell
him she was afraid she was falling in love with him in case they didn't make it
out of here alive.
"We're
going to run to my car—"
"I
don't have shoes." Charlise looked down at her feet, then back up at him. "I'll
slow you down."
Tom
glanced down. She wiggled her toes. She'd run through glass to keep him safe.
"I'll
keep up, I promise," she said.
"No,
your feet will get cut to shreds. Let me think." He ran his hand across
his stubbled chin.
"Here,
wear my socks." He sat down on the bed, and made quick work of removing
his shoes. Tom handed her his socks. "Put them on, and roll the tops down
around your ankles so they don't come off."
She
held his sock, hesitating.
He
shrugged. "Sorry, it's the best I can do."
She
sat next to him on the bed and pulled the oversized socks on her feet. Her eyes
followed Tom as he rose to move to the window.
"Are
they still out there?" She pulled the elastic on her sweatpants over the
socks in an attempt to keep them on better. They bagged around her ankles. She
doubted they'd stay on for long.
"No
and their absence has me worried." Tom closed the curtain and stepped to
the door.
She
twisted her hands together and went to him. Tom gathered her hands in his and
squeezed. She swallowed hard.
"Ready?"
He gripped her chin and kissed her hard and quick. "For luck."
Charlise
nodded. They'd need all the luck they could get.
Tom
opened the door and holding her hand, jogged across the pavement. She ran to
keep up with his long-legged stride. He zigzagged on the outskirts of the
parking lot and kept to the shadows. She ignored the rocks biting into her
sensitive skin and the socks that threatened to come off.
At
the end of the parking lot, Tom pulled her down behind a row of hedges. She
squatted beside him. Her breath came out in puffs,
sleep cleared and she remembered where she was—a cheap motel room currently
bathed in darkness and Tom down the street keeping an eye out. The last couple
of days flashed in her head, and she tried to shut off the instant replay. She
wanted to look toward the future. Thanks to Tom, he gave her hope that she'd
survive this fight against Jared Blatwell.
Rat-a-tat.
She
jumped and scrambled out of bed. She darted behind the door—her only exit. She
placed her hand on the wooden door. Not that her strength against a man the
size of Jared would keep the door closed.
"Charlise,"
a male voice spoke from the other side of the door.
She
pressed an ear to the wood, uncertain of the voice.
Tom's
low tones came through the door again. "Charlise, it's Tom. Let me
in."
Positive
of the identity of the knocker, she unlocked the door and stepped back.
Tom
hurried inside, shut and locked the door, and then stepped over to the
curtained window.
"What's
going on?" She walked over and gripped his arm. "Did Jared find
us?"
"We
need to get out of here." Tom peeked between the space he made in the
curtains. "Now."
But
how? How had he found them so fast?
"I
don't want to stick around and ask him how he managed to track us down."
He cussed under his breath. "I underestimated the asshole."
Charlise
moved to the door and waited for Tom to direct her on what to do. Fully awake,
ready to run, she'd rather get out of the room where they stood a fighting
chance. The hotel trapped them into an area Jared could pick them off, one by
one.
"It
looks like he brought company. Two black sedans have circled the motel every
fifteen minutes, give or take." He ran his hands up and down her arms.
"You've got to pull yourself together, be strong, and do exactly what I
say. No arguing, no going off on your own, understand?"
She
nodded, watching his face. She'd follow him around the world if that's what it
took to get away from Jared alive.
She
needed to tell him how he'd changed her life for the better and how the day he
helped her escape out of Jared's clutches gave her hope. He needed to
understand why she'd acted crazy in the car. Most of all, she wanted to tell
him she was afraid she was falling in love with him in case they didn't make it
out of here alive.
"We're
going to run to my car—"
"I
don't have shoes." Charlise looked down at her feet, then back up at him. "I'll
slow you down."
Tom
glanced down. She wiggled her toes. She'd run through glass to keep him safe.
"I'll
keep up, I promise," she said.
"No,
your feet will get cut to shreds. Let me think." He ran his hand across
his stubbled chin.
"Here,
wear my socks." He sat down on the bed, and made quick work of removing
his shoes. Tom handed her his socks. "Put them on, and roll the tops down
around your ankles so they don't come off."
She
held his sock, hesitating.
He
shrugged. "Sorry, it's the best I can do."
She
sat next to him on the bed and pulled the oversized socks on her feet. Her eyes
followed Tom as he rose to move to the window.
"Are
they still out there?" She pulled the elastic on her sweatpants over the
socks in an attempt to keep them on better. They bagged around her ankles. She
doubted they'd stay on for long.
"No
and their absence has me worried." Tom closed the curtain and stepped to
the door.
She
twisted her hands together and went to him. Tom gathered her hands in his and
squeezed. She swallowed hard.
"Ready?"
He gripped her chin and kissed her hard and quick. "For luck."
Charlise
nodded. They'd need all the luck they could get.
Tom
opened the door and holding her hand, jogged across the pavement. She ran to
keep up with his long-legged stride. He zigzagged on the outskirts of the
parking lot and kept to the shadows. She ignored the rocks biting into her
sensitive skin and the socks that threatened to come off.
At
the end of the parking lot, Tom pulled her down behind a row of hedges. She
squatted beside him. Her breath came out in puffs,
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