Page 17 of Trust No One

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Finally Dev pulled out a pair of ear buds and shoved them into his ears. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and tapped his finger against the app that held his podcasts. Then, slumping into his seat, he turned and stared at the back of the seat in front of him, ignoring her.

Thank God. She didn’t want to discussfeelingswith Dev.

Ignoring the regret that burned in her throat, Mel focused on the document open on her computer. Stared at the screen and began listing different scenarios they needed to prepare for. Finally, when she’d run out of ideas, she closed her computer, stashed it in her briefcase and pulled out her Kindle. For the rest of the flight, she’d read the novel she’d started last night. She and Dev would continue this discussion when they weren’t trapped in tiny airline seats right next to each other.

She needed some distance between her and Dev before they got into the fraught subjects of feelings and trust.

* * *

Dev pulled the car they’d rented into the parking lot of a motel on the outskirts of Washington D.C. He and Mel both stared at the building, then she said, “Drive around the back. Let’s see what the exit routes are.”

“Kingsley probably isn’t going to be looking for us in this hotel, Mel,” he said, knowing this was Mel’s process and reluctantly appreciating her thoroughness. Sometimes being paranoid saved your life. But he knew she was expecting him to argue with her. “What are the odds? God knows how many motels and hotels are in the DC metro area. You know how much territory that covers? He can’t look everywhere.”

“I agree,” she said. “But I still want to see what the back of this hotel looks like.”

“Okay.” Dev threw the car into Drive again and steered around to the back. Three floors of bathroom windows. Not the tiny windows most motels had. These were full size. Perfect for escaping from a room under attack.

Which they most likely wouldn’t be, but again – paranoia paid off. “You approve of these windows?” he said.

“They’re fine,” she said, her voice cool. “You can thank me for checking after we’ve crawled out of them.”

He resisted rolling his eyes as he drove around to the office of the motel. Using two fake IDs, they registered for two adjoining rooms with a connecting door. When they’d carried their bags to the two rooms, Mel dropped hers on the floor of the first one and turned to stare at him.

“I know you’re irritated,” she said. “But I don’t want to be trapped in a high-rise hotel downtown. I want options, in case Kingsley comes looking for us. Which I’m pretty sure he’ll do if he finds out we’re here and asking about him.”

“I get that,” Dev said. “But I think you’re diving down the rabbit hole. Yeah, he knows us from Afghanistan, but it’s been more than three years and he’s probably forgotten all about us. And even if he remembers us, the fake IDs add another level of security. So why should he worry that we’re looking for him?”

She shook her head. “He saw Bree with Jameson. You can be sure he’s researched the hell out of both of them. Figured out that Bree works for Blackhawk Security, and that both of us are the owners. Or used to be. He’ll sure as hell remember us then. If I were Kingsley? I’d be tracking Bree, you and me. And if he figures out that we’re in DC, alarm bells will start clanging. He’ll make it his business to figure out why we’re here.”

“He’d have to find us first,” Dev said. “And with the fake IDs we used, that’s gonna be tough.”

Mel grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Shook hard. “Dev, get this through your head. Kingsley has a lot to lose. A lot of money. A lot of property. His freedom, if anyone in charge figures out what he’s doing. If he thinks we’re threats to him, he’ll come after us. Do his best to get rid of us. I don’t want to end up in a shallow grave in Rock Creek Park, and I don’t want you to end up that way, either. Okay?”

Her fingers dug into his chest, and he wanted to press them more tightly against him. Wanted to rip away his shirt so her palm would flatten against his skin. But that wasn’t allowed anymore. Mel wasn’t his, even temporarily.Would never be his. So he peeled her fingers off his shirt, one by one, then pushed her hand away with more force than necessary. It made him feel lonely. As if he’d lost something important to him.

Lonely was a new sensation for him. After he’d walked away from one of his good-time girls, he’d never felt anything but relief. Mel, though? Mel was different.

Not liking the path his thoughts were taking, he shoved them away. “Neither of us is going to end up buried in a damn park, Mel. We’re going to get the goods on your buddy Cliff and put him away before we’re even on his radar. Then Bree can have her happily ever after.” Mel could, too.

Him? He’d be spending quality time with women who were interested in the same things he was – good times, a fast fuck and a quick goodbye.

Laid out like that, it sounded pretty… cold. Unappealing. But he’d never wanted more than that. Was never interested in all the sticky ties Mel apparently wanted to wrap herself in.

He’d keep her safe while they chased after Kingsley and Larrimore. And when those two bastards were locked up, he’d walk away from Blackhawk Security. Not because he wanted to, but because he apparently had no choice. Mel knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t have read the contract carefully. Knew him well enough to know he’d eventually piss her off one too many times.

“Let’s go get dinner,” he finally said. “Know any good restaurants in this town?”

“I know a few,” she said. “Let’s check out our rooms, then we’ll go eat.”

An hour later, they were seated in a small, intimate restaurant near Embassy Row. Not flashy, not a ‘see and be seen’ kind of place, as far as Dev could tell. But it was comfortable, and the owners were apparently all about giving their customers privacy and security.

Which made sense, since a lot of their customers probably came from the embassies that lined the streets in this neighborhood.

Once they’d ordered, Mel relaxed against the back of the booth with a glass of red wine. A cabernet. Her favorite variety.

He wasn’t a complete idiot. That day at Trail’s End? She’d told him what she liked to drink, and he’d filed it away. Not that he’d have a chance to use it after this trip, but information was always valuable.

He had an IPA. The bitter ale seemed appropriate for this evening. Depending on how long it took to hook up with Simon and get the goods on Kingsley, it wouldn’t be long before he and Mel went their separate ways. She’d go back to Montana and run Blackhawk Security. And him?

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