Page 34 of Not This Place

"Consider it done."

The call ended with a click. Lazarus slid the phone back into his pocket. The gun still lay within reach, its weight a promise of violence yet to come. Time was slipping away, every second pushing him forward. He rose, body protesting, but the pain only sharpened his resolve.

The hunt wasn't over. Not by far.

Legacy demanded action. Demanded movement.

He didn’t have much time left.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dawn crept over the Texas horizon, its light a pale intruder into the darkened motel room. Rachel Blackwood’s eyes snapped open, her internal clock wired for early starts. She lay still for a moment, letting the silence settle around her like dust. The sheets felt stiff against her skin, the pillow bearing the faint scent of industrial detergent. No luxury found here – just the essentials for transient souls passing through.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, muscles tensing in preparation for the day ahead. Her boots stood at attention on the worn carpet, laces curled like sleeping serpents. With practiced motions, Rachel dressed, holstering her weapon with the familiarity of routine. The mirror reflected a woman shaped by duty, her dark hair pulled back to reveal a face marked with purpose.

Joseph hadn’t talked.

He blamed her for his brother’s death. She’d pulled the trigger. But he was keeping his lips sealed. For half the night, she’d tried to get him to talk. But paramedics had provided obstacles. Doctors. Then lawyers.

She was champing at the bit, but it would take time before she was cleared to speak with the man who’d tried to kill her.

Even as she realized this, she felt her frustration mounting.

She felt as if her soul was being torn in two separate directions. She shook her head, marching out of the room, pushing open the door and allowing it to swing shut.

Ethan was already waiting there, leaning against the rail facing the parking lot of the empty motel.

He glanced over from under his baseball cap, his eyes fixated on hers. He scratched at the stubble forming on his usually smooth jaw. She was surprised to see his eyes ringed red.

“Ethan,” she said. “You good to go?”

Alice Danvers was waiting for them to interview her down at the station.

Ethan turned, his eyes finding hers with an intensity that bordered on desperation. "Rae," he said, his voice low and rough with concern.

"Morning," she replied, her own tone clipped.

Ethan looked like a man on the verge of a choice. He looked troubled. He opened his mouth, closed it. He released a slow, leaking breath, closed his eyes. “I…”

He swallowed.

"Ethan? Are you okay?"

And then he moved. Fast on the draw. Faster than her.

He closed the distance between them in two strides, his embrace enveloping her in a sudden rush of warmth. Surprised, Rachel's breath hitched, her hands hovering before resting tentatively on his back. Ethan’s lips found hers in an unexpected kiss, a silent plea etched into the gesture.

The moment stretched, time and the rest of the world seeming to stand still. Then he was pulling away, a brief flash of vulnerability in his eyes before he ducked his head. "I... I..." He swallowed again, struggling for words. Rachel watched him, her heart pounding against her ribs. This was Ethan, her steadfast partner, always quick with a quip or a reassuring word. Seeing him like this was disconcerting.

"Last night," he finally said, his voice raspy as though choked by emotion. "I was scared." His gaze flickered towards the bandage on his shoulder then back to her face, something raw and earnest in his expression.

Rachel took a step back, needing the space to process. He was scared because of his injury? But it had been minor, barely more than a scrape. And Ethan had always been stoic about pain.

Then it clicked. He wasn't talking about himself.

"You were scared...for me?" The words felt strange on her lips. She'd always been the one looking out for others' safety; being on the receiving end of such concern was unfamiliar ground.

Ethan nodded, a ghost of his usual smile crossing his face. "You're too important to lose, Rae."

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