Page 34 of Unchained

As Cam reached into the back seat, her full, luscious cleavage spilled out the V-neck of her shirt. His fingers tingled with the desire to move the material and see the hard nubs that poked against the fabric. His cock throbbed with need. He adjusted his jeans as she dropped back into her seat.

“I gave a cash deposit at the last place.” She thrust a handful of bills at him. “They were fine with that.”

He grabbed the money but didn’t pull it from her fingers. Her eyes lifted to his, her lashes so thick that the faint light from the motel’s sign made them cast shadows on her cheeks. Her pouty lips pushed forward in confusion, but she didn’t remove her hand from his.

“I’ll pay you back for this . . . for everything.”

She dipped her chin, and a dimple formed in the corner of her cheek. “Don’t be silly. Now hurry up, I’m hungry.”

He took the money and exited the car. The cool air reminded him they’d left Nevada. Being in a coastal state meant lower temperatures. He could feel blood filling the areas of his body that had been cramped and restricted in the car. Vehicles whooshed down the road as he stalked toward the flashing red sign that read OPEN.

He shouldered open the door and a bell dinged over his head. An older man jumped up from his chair behind the desk. The dim lights bounced off his white hair and yellowing, once-white shirt. A TV sat on the desk, and as Brooks approached, he caught an image of the eleven o’clock news.

“Evening. Can I get you a room?” The lopsided name tag adorning his chest pocket read Fred.

“Please. One with two beds if you have it available, Fred.” The request pained him. He’d slept so well in Cam’s hold. Being close to her, inhaling her warm scent, was something he desperately needed to calm his spiking nerves. But she needed to be comfortable and know he wasn’t some kind of creep.

“All’s I’ve got is one king.”

A little thrill of pleasure ran through him. “That’s fine. Can I secure the room with cash?” He pulled out some bills and placed them on the counter.

Fred fingered the money. “This’ll cover it.” He handed over the paperwork. “Sign here and fill out the information. I’ll get your keys ready.”

Brooks accepted the pen and started writing. The sound of the TV carried to his ears:

The police are looking for a woman by the name of Camryn Bayfield.

Brooks snapped his head up. Cam’s wide green eyes and blonde hair filled the screen.

Air rushed out of his nostrils. Jesus effing Christ.

The twenty-nine-year-old woman is identified as Camryn Bayfield but has been using the last name Royse. It’s believed that the nurse has kidnapped a patient from a rehab facility. We have no information on the missing man at this time, but both are considered armed and dangerous. Authorities are asking the public to . . .

Fred waddled back to the counter, a key card in hand. He glanced over the sheet, but Brooks couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. If the clerk saw Cam, they were fucked. He shifted his weight, positioning himself in front of Fred’s view of the window.

Fred laid the paper back on the counter, tapping one line. “You forgot the name of the person staying with you. I assume you’re not alone since you wanted two beds?”

“Uh.” Brooks coughed. He snatched the pen from the desk and scrawled Jenny Anders, matching the last name he’d used, on the blank spot. “Sorry ’bout that. Been a long drive.”

“Not to worry. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know.”

Brooks accepted the key card from the counter. “Thanks.” He exited the office and dropped into the driver’s seat.

Cam lifted her head from the seat. “Anything available?”

He backed up and peeled away from the office window. A glance inside showed Fred dropping back into the chair in front of his desk. They’d dodged a bullet, but from here on out a huge red bull’s-eye was on their backs. “Yeah. One king bed. Oh, and you’re on the eleven o’clock news.”

She bolted forward, panic driving a gasp to the tip of her tongue. The piercing sound of Cam’s cell phone split the air, cutting her off. She reached for her phone, and her features pinched together. “Oh crap,” she wheezed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as he parked in front of their room.

“It’s my mom.” The weight she’d attached to the words hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. More questions buzzed in his mind.

Cam had a story, and he’d find out what it was.

CHAPTER 12

“Hi, Mom,” Cam said weakly, as Brooks opened the door to their motel room. The musty smell of old furniture and dust greeted her as she walked in behind Brooks and shut the door, locking it behind her.

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