Page 6 of Miami Heat (Urban Heat 3)

“Yeah.”

“So, I’m not a part of any plot on their part.”

“Good point.” Birk slapped his hands down on the table. “Since neither I nor my friend can make shifters, it’s out of our hands.”

Disappointment tightened Adam’s gut.

“But,” Birk continued, “I might know someone. I’ll explain everything. If this person is willing, you’ll get what you want. If not, you will be killed.”

Adam stared, looking for the joke. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.” He reached inside his jacket and felt around then pulled out a business card. Adam caught the word “antiques” on the front before Birk flipped the card over. He scribbled a name and number. “Give me a couple days.”

Adam took the offered card and looked at the number. “Nine seven two. That’s Texas, isn’t it?”

Birk winked. “You don’t mind traveling for what you want, do you?”

“Not at all.” Adam stood and held out his hand. “Gracias, amigo.”

“No problem.”

Adam left the saloon and walked along Marine Way. He had a lot to think about. The truth was, he had no way of knowing if Birk would tell his friend to kill him no questions asked. Birk had admitted himself his friend Kotori would just as soon end his life as look at him, especially if he thought Adam threatened Shiya’s safety. The intensity in the man’s words had shaken him. Adam believed these two creatures did love Shiya, and they wouldn’t hesitate to attack anyone they thought would hurt her. He couldn’t blame them for that. He would do the same for Sakura. In fact, he had done it on more than one occasion, but he’d done so in conjunction with his job.

When he reached his room after almost an hour and a half of walking around, he removed the card Birk had given him and read the name. Laila Stark. The person who could change Adam into a shifter was a woman, and only now as he lay back on his bed did he realize he’d neglected to ask what kind of animal she could make him, and what was the process—a bite? A scratch? He considered calling Birk but then decided to wait and see. He hated having to hold off two days because that left Sakura forty-eight hours without his protection. Too many out there gunned for the Keiths. Well, he would get there soon enough, and then they would talk. How he would break it to her, he had no idea, but he would.

After a few more moments of relaxation, Adam stood and moved to the desk to open his laptop. He had arrangements to make and a letter to write to Sakura just in case he died two days from now. He wanted her to understand how deeply he loved her and to be sure she never blamed herself. He doubted she would walk away from hunting shifters if one killed him, but she would at least be secure in what he had felt for her. He could offer nothing else but all of himself.

Chapter Three

Sakura wiped moisture from her forehead as she climbed into the rental and frowned at her surroundings. This was the fourth hotel she’d visited, yet none was the right place. Her feet hurt, her throat was dry, and her stomach growled because she’d neglected to eat breakfast. Why did it have to be so damn difficult to at least pin down the hotel? Then a new thought struck her. What if her mother hadn’t died in a hotel but a motel, a cheaper establishment? She hated the thought considering she’d never stepped into anything below five star, but the beast that abducted her mother could have taken her to a seedy place where he’d be less likely to be found out.

She turned over the car’s engine and made sure the A/C was on max and let the air cool her overheated body. Her sundress clung, and she fanned it, leaning close to the vent. While she hadn’t really come to Florida to lie on the beach, the water and a mimosa called to her. Ever since she’d given her dad the excuse of a vacation, she wanted to stretch out and relax. Working nonstop got to a person after a while.

If Adam was here… She cut off such thoughts and drove the man from her mind. Adam declined coming along, and he didn’t deserve her dwelling on thoughts of him. Let him rot in California! Of course, as much as she raged internally, she missed him. Her bed seemed bigger and lonelier at night, and for some stupid reason, she felt less safe.

“Okay, get a grip, Sakura. You’ve been taking care of yourself for years. You don’t need a man to do it now.”

After checking GPS on her phone, she found a likely strip of motels and decided to check them out. She jerked the car into gear and started off. Half hour later, she drew up to a building that screamed cheap. Sakura removed her sunglasses as she stepped out of the car and stared up at the building. Did someone really think they would class up this place by painting the doors and edging powder blue? Small potholes littered the parking lot, and the manicured bushes outside the main office seemed to be dying. Two giant palm trees leaned toward the lot, heavy with coconuts. Sakura peered back at the car as she approached the door. She’d probably be okay, but staying more than a minute to confirm whether this motel was the right one wasn’t happening.

“Good morning,” the chipper, blue-haired lady behind the counter greeted her. “Welcome to Miami. Will that be a room for one?”

“Thanks,” Sakura said, deciding against admitting she wouldn’t be staying. “I was wondering if any of your rooms have a view of this bridge.” She’d made a copy of the picture and removed her mom from it to keep from scaring the people she questioned.

The old lady took the photocopy and squinted at

it. “Oh, the Seven Mile Bridge. You know it’s known all over the world. People come from everywhere to see it.”

Sakura groaned. “Yes, but the view…”

“The view? Oh sure,” the woman said in a conversational tone, “you can see the bridge from many motels. Not just this one. I—”

“I’m sorry,” Sakura pushed between clenched teeth. “Perhaps I have the wrong motel.”

Confusion colored the woman’s face. “So, you don’t want to stay in room twenty-four?”

Pain pulsed in Sakura’s temple. “Room twenty-four?”

A toothy grin and a tap on the page. “Yes, this is room twenty-four. I know because I made that flamingo picture on the wall myself. I’m not so much into crafts lately since the arthritis has gotten so bad.”

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