Page 30 of Brick's Retribution

"Ready?" Brick asks, voice barely audible over the engine.

I tighten my grip around his waist, fighting the crazy feeling that I'm safer with this man I barely know than I've been with anyone in years.

"Ready," I lie, and we head into the night.

CHAPTER FOUR

Brick

The small border town appears like a mirage in the darkness, a scattered collection of lights breaking the endless black of the desert.

Agua Nueva, population 362, according to the battered sign we pass.

Too small to register on most maps, which is perfect for our needs.

The bullet graze on my side throbs with every heartbeat, a reminder of how close we came to disaster.

Imani's hand remains firmly pressed against the wound, applying steady pressure as we ride.

Her body is molded against mine, no longer hesitant or reserved like she was before.

Necessity has eliminated any pretense of personal space.

I guide the Harley down the town's single main street, scanning for threats disguising it as casual observation.

A gas station with an attached mini-mart.

A diner with neon signs flickering in the window.

A small motel at the edge of town—six rooms in a row, paint peeling, but cleaner than it looks at first glance.

Perfect.

I pull into the motel lot, cutting the engine.

For a moment, we just sit there, letting the silence wash over us after hours of hearing the wind and engine roar.

Imani's arms slowly release their grip on my waist, her fingers coming away dark with my blood.

"You need medical attention and soon," she says, her voice low but insistent.

"I'll handle it." I dismount, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at the wound. "Let's get a room first. Keep our heads down."

The office is a small building separate from the rooms, a buzzing fluorescent light casting everything in a sickly glow.

An elderly man sits behind the counter, watching a small TV in the corner. He barely looks up when we enter and I’m grateful for it.

The last thing I need is this old geezer noticing the blood on my shirt.

I figure it’s a good idea to keep my jacket closed to hide the bloodstain. "Need a room."

He eyes us for a split second before his eyes turn back to the TV. "Fifty cash. Check-out at eleven."

I slide three twenties across the counter. "Any place to get food this late?"

"Diner's open till midnight." He hands me a key attached to a plastic tag marked with the number 4. "Walls are thin. Keep it down."

I nod my thanks, taking the key.

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