Page 85 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“Besides,” Jaxon added casually. “I promised her we’d dig out her car.”
I rolled my eyes, but followed it up with a chuckle. “Is that why you threw two shovels back there, before we left?”
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. Jaxon nodded.
“It is.”
“Fine.”
“Not until after we check out this lead, though.”
The Sayonara motel was a cheap stay, and therefore wasn’t in one of the better parts of town. In general, there were two types of people who patronized the old strip motel: those who were just passing through, and those taking advantage of their hourly rates and private parking for a quick, dirty tryst. The latter, it was joked, were looking to say Sayonara to their marriage.
Five minutes later we rolled up on the place. On one side, the parking lot flanked by its eight-foot privacy fence was wholly inaccessible. On the street side however, the stretch of identical, rust-colored doors stood sentinel over the poorly-shoveled sidewalk that fed it.
“Number twelve,” Jaxon huffed, extending a finger. “That one on the end, right there.”
I parked on the opposite side of the street; and killed the engine. For a good minute we sat there in silence, taking in our surroundings. It was what we’d been trained to do. Old habits died hard.
Eventually, the howl of the wind whipping down the frozen street was the only noise left to us.
“Okay,” said Jaxon, apparently satisfied. “Let’s go.”
My friend retrieved something from beneath his seat as we got out, slipping it beneath his jacket. As usual I asked no questions. Together we padded over to the sleek, run-down building, as I struggled to discern during which era, if any, this type of architecture was last in style.
“Roadside Americana decay,” I muttered under my breath.
Jaxon’s eyebrows came together. “What?”
“Nothing.”
We reached the last door without encountering anyone.
“Go on,” said Jaxon. “Knock.”
I did exactly that, waited twenty seconds, then knocked again. When no one answered I tried the knob, and found it securely locked.
“I assume you have the key?” I smirked at him.
Jaxon said nothing. With the slightest shift of his weight, he produced a full-sized crowbar, like some magic trick.
“Ah, splendid.”
He held it poised, directly over the base of the cheap aluminum doorknob. Before he could act however, I grabbed it.
“You really think this is our guy?”
Jaxon looked down at me and shrugged. “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t.”
I frowned, and glanced around. “If Oakley knew what we were doing…”
“Look, best case scenario this guy gets a busted door,” Jaxon grunted. “It’s not like he’ll have to pay for it.”
“And worst case scenario?”
“He’s getting the other end of this crowbar,” Jaxon growled, pushing my hand away. “And he’ll be spitting teeth until we know exactly why he’s sniffing around our place.”
With that, he put his weight behind the bar and struck. The doorknob didn’t stand a chance. It flew off into the nearest snowbank with a soft thump.
