Page 94 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
His brows pull together as panic clouds his gaze.
“Nobody ever comes in there looking for me but you. Cover for me, and I’ll owe you big time.”
Brandon runs his hand over his head. He’s quiet, but I still catch part of the curse words he murmurs under his breath. After a few big breaths, his hazel eyes lift to mine.
A smile curves across my face when he places a set of keys into my palm. “It’s a blue BMW coupe half a block down.”
I rush toward the exit of the building before gratitude washes over me. Pivoting around, I dart back to Brandon. He balks when I sling my arms around his neck and whisper my thanks for his support into his ear.
Brandon returns my hug with so much force, he squeezes the bejeebus out of me. “Be careful, Izzy,” he pleads, his eyes relaying his genuine concern.
Nodding, I rush out of the building.
CHAPTER41
Megan fights the bouncer for nearly twenty minutes before she gives in and walks back to her compact yellow car. Her steps are slow, and her shoulders are slumped in defeat.
I stab the key into the ignition. Brandon’s car roars to life, startling me. Its engine is a lot bigger than I’m used to driving, plus it’s a stick shift. I was taught to drive an automatic, but this is the only car I have access to, and I will not lose the opportunity to follow Megan because I can’t drive a stick shift.
The instant Megan pulls her car onto the road, I merge Brandon’s car into the heavy traffic. Several motorists honk their horns, annoyed I pulled out without signaling.
Metal grinding together roars through my ears when I forgot to push in the clutch before shifting the gearshift.
I crunch through my first gear change. “Shit. Sorry, Brandon.”
My knuckles go white from my determined hold of the steering wheel. My heart palpitates so fast, I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack, and the gnawing pit in my chest is nearly crippling me. Even being riddled with fear, my urge to protect Isaac outweighs my panic.
Other than hearing my madly beating heart, my drive across town is made in silence. I follow Megan close enough I won’t lose her in the dense traffic but not close enough for her to become suspicious.
When she pulls into an old rundown motel on the outskirts of town, I park Brandon’s car along the curb at the front of a McDonald’s restaurant.
A large droplet of water splats on the windshield, followed by another and then another. In no time at all, my view of the hotel is clouded by a sheet of water. Pulling my jacket over my head to shelter myself from the heavy pelts of rain, I peel out of Brandon’s car. Once the street is clear of traffic, I run across the road and seek cover under the rusted hotel awning.
My fear surges when Megan emerges from a room two doors down from where I’m standing. She’s mumbling under her breath. Because she’s so focused on her tirade, she doesn’t notice me hiding under the awning. She jumps into her car and reverses dangerously. Her vehicle whizzes out of the hotel parking lot so fast, she’ll be long gone by the time I scamper back to Brandon’s car.
My eyes survey the area. Because of the pelting rain, most hotel guests have congregated inside. I walk toward the room Megan just exited. My steps are so nerve-wracking, my legs shake uncontrollably. Once I’m sure no one is watching me, I crouch down onto the ground and try to jimmy the lock.
“Come on.”
After two long, panicked minutes, I still haven’t picked the lock. This latch is, of course, more technical than the locks I trained on.
Gritting my teeth, I ram the door as hard as possible with my right shoulder. Pain shoots up my arm so fast, and tears sting my eyes. Even grimacing in pain, a grin curves on my mouth. My harsh hit on the door was successful, and it swings open with the tiniest creak.
After darting my eyes around the area, I walk into Megan’s hotel room, closing the door behind me. The room is spotlessly clean with a pungent aroma of disinfectant and bleach. From the two stars on the sign hanging at the front of the hotel, I’d say it’s Megan who keeps this room so sparkly and hygienic.
The bed has been perfectly made to where you could bounce a nickel off it. She has replaced the standard hotel bedding with a more elaborate love heart quilt. My heart plummets into my stomach when I notice a crib set up in the room.
Is Megan pregnant? Oh God, please don’t let it be Isaac’s baby.
Snubbing the queasiness swirling in my stomach, I head for the only desk in the room. My fear that Megan is indeed pregnant surges when I spot several textbooks on pregnancy and medical procedures stacked on a crumbling shelf above the desk.
Grabbing a wad of tissues out of a box to cover my fingerprints, I yank down the first lot of books. My eyes filter down to a picture that slipped out of a pregnancy pamphlet from an obstetrician’s office in Ravenshoe. My breathing halts when I flip the photo over. It’s an ultrasound picture of a distinguishable fetus. With the baby’s face so prominent, Megan must be over six months pregnant, which is surprising, considering she didn’t have a bump on her medium frame.
Swallowing to eliminate the lump lodged in my throat, I slip the photo back into the pamphlet, then place it in its rightful spot on the shelf.
Ignoring my hammering heart, my eyes appraise the spotless room. Other than a bed, desk, chair, and a baby crib, the room is empty. I make my way to the only other door in the room other than the entrance door.
“Holy shit.”
