Escaping Vegas (The Inheritance Book 1) (7 page)

Madalina started in surprise to hear that someone could find all that out so easily on the Internet. It felt as invasive as the ruin of her house. “I—you don’t think they ransacked my mom and dad’s house, do you?”

“I don’t know, Madalina. They haven’t called to say they—”

“They’re on vacation, remember? They’re not even home.” Fretting about the possibility, she stood up and paced a few feet one way, then the other.

“Where do your parents live?”

“In Chino. That’s where I grew up.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“It’s about a half hour or so from here. In decent traffic.” Otherwise, it could take an hour.

“Is that where the dragon is?” he asked with a frown.

“No. No, it’s here in town.” She didn’t know why she was so hesitant to admit that Lianne had the dragon. Perhaps she feared someone was eavesdropping by some sinister method. These people had been one step ahead of her the whole time, and she loathed putting Lianne in the crosshairs. Maybe she already had, simply by association.

“The people who are doing this to you, if it’s the dragon they’re after, wouldn’t know
where
it is. They might start hitting any possible place, because it sure seems to me that they’re desperate to get their hands on it.” He paused, then said, “We’ll get us both some new clothes and luggage tomorrow, first thing—but not at your store. We’ll go somewhere else after we’re sure they haven’t picked up our tail. Then we’ll see the dragon and get whatever information we can from it.”

“All right.” Madalina wouldn’t argue. It was a good plan, and now that she was high on paranoia, she needed someone to guide her, to help decide where she should and shouldn’t go. She’d been about to ask if he would drive her straight to Chino, but he made a good point about these people hitting everywhere she might turn up. The last thing she wanted to do was walk into another trap.

“Let’s get some sleep. Morning is going to come quicker than we think,” he said.

“Good idea. I’m exhausted,” she admitted. When she moved to step past Cole, their shoulders touched. The contact sent a spiral of excitement straight through her bones. Pausing, she set a hand on his biceps, the muscle flexing beneath her fingers. Meeting his eyes, noting an uptick of intensity in the way he stared at her, Madalina parted her lips with the intent to say something, but the words never came. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and all she could think about then was what it might be like to kiss him. She knew by the shift of his body closer to her own that he was thinking about kissing her, too. Because she wasn’t ready to be consumed by him, overwhelmed by him, she broke eye contact and stepped on.

Closing the bathroom door, she snapped on the light. The mirror over the sink showed a different Madalina than the one who had left for Vegas a day earlier. She thought she looked haunted, expression grim, lips compressed into a tight line. Studying the tautness of her shoulders, she slowly became aware of just how tense her body was. Her shoulders ached, as did her jaw, where she supposed she’d been gritting her teeth during the chase. The fall she’d taken over the fence had left a faint bruise on her stomach, she noticed as she peeled the peach shirt over her head.

Leaning over the sink, she turned the handle on the faucet, cupped cold water in her hands, and splashed it on her cheeks.

She couldn’t get her mind off whether or not the thugs—because that’s what they were in her mind after seeing the inside of her house—had decimated her parents’ home in Chino. Couldn’t stop worrying that the boutique might be next.

What in God’s name had she done?

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

C
ole tracked Madalina until she disappeared into the bathroom. His body hummed with desire that was slow to fade. The vivid memory of her soulful eyes and lush mouth threatened to totally distract him from keeping her safe. A few moments after the door closed, he turned off the nightstand lamp and went to the window to look down into the parking lot. No new cars had parked near his, which he could see clearly from this vantage point. No one seemed to be nosing around the parking lot who shouldn’t be there, either. Granted, he couldn’t see
everything
, including the front lobby doors, but for the moment, no discernible threat lurked outside the hotel. He pulled the curtains closed, turned the lamp back on, and fished his cell phone from his pocket. Pulling up a map program, he looked up Chino and made a quick note on his phone’s notebook application. He also tapped out several texts, fingers flying over the screen. Done with the phone, he set it on the nightstand and removed the gun from the waistband of his jeans. Not about to let it out of reach, he set it next to the base of the lamp.

Glancing toward the bathroom, hearing the water go on and off sporadically, he guessed that Madalina had decided to wash up in case there wasn’t time in the morning. She was starting to show signs that the stress of the situation was getting to her. Little cracks in her feisty facade. The maudlin way she’d stared at her feet, the constant rubbing of her forehead, the wariness that hadn’t been present in Vegas. Her entire life had been thrust into turmoil. He considered how much more she could take before she snapped.

Not convinced of their complete safety, Cole remained fully clothed. Stretching out on the bed, he hooked an arm behind his head and crossed one ankle over the other. Wired from the chase, he knew sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight.

Madalina felt cleaner, but no less stressed, when she exited the bathroom. Spotting Cole lying on the bed, stretched long and leonine, made the stress a little more bearable. She knew he wasn’t asleep, could tell by the alertness in his muscles that he was watching her as she headed to the opposite bed.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“A little.” She didn’t bother to hide the drain on her internal resources. Sitting on the side of the mattress, she toed off her boots, only realizing as she did so that Cole had left his on.

He swung his feet to the floor and stood. “You know, for someone who isn’t used to this way of life, you’re doing really well. You should be proud of that.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing well,” she admitted, dragging her gaze off his thighs to her boots. After sliding off her socks, she set both aside and wiggled her toes against the short carpet.

“You didn’t let the destruction of your house incapacitate you. You reacted proactively to saving your own hide, and even though that fence was a challenge, you didn’t whine about it. You just attacked it and went over.”

“Yeah. It attacked me, too,” she retorted churlishly.

He rumbled a laugh. “Next time, you’ll—”

“Next time? God help me.”

“
Next
time, you’ll go over a little easier. And the time after that, even better.”

“I still think you’re a CIA agent,” she said as he headed to the bathroom. A low bark of laughter preceded the quiet snick of the latch.

The vague curl of a smile disappeared from her mouth once he was gone. Leaning back into the pillows, she exhaled a deep breath and rubbed her forehead.

Positive Thinking: The Power of Optimism
wasn’t working so well for her right now. Every optimistic thought she’d possessed had gotten stomped beneath the heavy boot of fear and paranoia. In that particular moment, she couldn’t find anything positive about her life in the last twenty-four hours.

You’re alive. Be thankful for that.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

M
adalina’s usual sleeping habits rarely changed. She was the sort to sprawl all over the bed, an arm flung here, a leg draped there. Tossing and turning was as natural as breathing. She typically woke up yawning and stretching, as if she had been a cat in a past life. Everything about rising with her alarm was languid and drawn out.

This morning, her eyes popped open when she came instantly awake. Tucked into a fetal ball, hands beneath her cheek on the pillow, she spent a moment getting her bearings. Her body ached in a way that suggested she hadn’t moved all night.

Cole, sitting on the edge of the other bed, looked ridiculously refreshed and ready for action. He watched her with a thoroughness that made Madalina wonder if one of her boobs had slipped free of the filmy shirt by accident. She sat up, grasping for the skinny straps over her shoulders, palms sliding down the scooped neckline to find that nothing was peeking out that shouldn’t be.

“What?” she asked, hands flying next to the tangled mess of her hair. The long, dark layers were skewed haphazardly every which way.

“Just waiting for you to come around. Didn’t want to wake you before I had to.”

“So you were just sitting there, staring? You could have put yourself to good use and grabbed us some coffee.” Even as she challenged him, the scent of coffee hit her nose. She glanced to the dresser and, lo, there were two Styrofoam cups, steam snaking through the slit in the lid. “Oh.” And then, she frowned. “You left me here alone to get coffee?”

Cole laughed. Hard. “So, you’re one of those bipolar sleepers. Got it. Happy one minute when you wake up, demanding and cranky the next.”

Smiling sheepishly, she said, “Sorry. I forgot for a moment that we’re in danger. Then I remembered, and realized you’d gone downstairs—”

“You don’t have to explain your grumpy habits to me, honey,” he said, grinning broadly. Rising to his feet, he crossed to the dresser, picked up both cups, and walked them back to the bed. He offered one to her.

Madalina, still buzzing with warmth at the raspy endearment, accepted the cup. Her fingers brushed his during the transfer, sending tingles racing along her skin. His smile . . . well, it did things to her. “Thanks. For the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” He pivoted away and went to the window. A stream of weak gray light slanted through the room when he parted the curtains. “It’s raining, by the way. I’ve been scouting the parking lot, and so far, everything seems okay.”

“Seems. My house
seemed
okay when we pulled up to the curb last night, too.”

He clucked his tongue, as if reprimanding her for her sarcasm.

Madalina swore she detected humor in the action, although she couldn’t say why. She sipped the coffee, taking note that the gun was gone from the nightstand. Cole appeared ready to hit the road. She stole several more sips, set the cup down, and muttered under her breath while she slid her feet into her socks.

God. Why? She
hated
putting on used clothes. She shuddered three times during the process, that odd skeevy feeling coming to the fore. The peculiar phobia had been with her as long as she could remember. From childhood, Madalina had refused to wear clothing she knew hadn’t been laundered. Taking the coffee with her to the dresser, she snagged the strap of her purse and slid it over her shoulder. What she wouldn’t give for a new wardrobe. A glance at the bedside clock proved it was much later than she realized.
10:37
, just twenty minutes before they had to check out.

“I meant to call Lianne this morning to give her a heads-up. She’s been sick, which is why she wasn’t in Vegas with me, and we need to give her some kind of warning that we’re coming over. I’d hoped we could scoot over there early to get the dragon—that’s where it has been this whole time, her house—but it’s later than I thought.” Madalina couldn’t believe she’d slept so long. She’d been sure her nerves wouldn’t allow her to snatch more than a couple hours of tense slumber.

Cole stepped away from the window, bringing the coffee to his lips. After a lengthy sip, he said, “I still think it’s risky to expose your friend, especially in broad daylight, but there isn’t any other way to get the dragon. Unless we have her bring it to us. She’s sick, so that’s not an option. If we’re going to her house, we should wait until later and use the darkness to our advantage. Let’s get the clothes first, and then we’ll grab something to eat. Then we’ll figure out what to do from there, all right?”

“Okay. There’s a little generic clothing store next to the health food center . . .”

“No. Where’s a decent mall?”

“Why not the generic store?” she asked with a frown. “They’ve got men’s and women’s clothing, and it’s closer.”

He gave her a specific
we’re not going to a rinky-dink store
kind of glance.

She retorted, “You’re a
clotheshorse
, aren’t you? The picky,
I won’t wear just any old pair of jeans
kind who won’t shop anywhere but upscale stores.”

“You’re one to talk, with your five thousand pairs of shoes.” He snorted and set a hand on the doorknob.

Madalina gasped. Her shoes. “Did they decimate
all
those, too?”

“No. But they’re scattered all over your closet. And on your bedroom floor. And in the living room.” He opened the door, stepping into the hallway with a wary look. “Besides, a little driving distance allows me to make sure I’ve lost any followers we might attract. It’s tough to lose a tail in one city block.”

“All right. I’m ready.” Madalina stared at his back, clutching her coffee in one hand, the purse in the other. She’d use either as a weapon if she had to.

“Let’s take the stairs. That way, if anyone
is
watching the hotel lobby, they won’t see us go out the back.”

“You think of everything,” she said, entering the hall in his wake. Taking a cue from Cole, she glanced up and down the corridor, then followed him to the stairway door.

“If I thought of everything, we’d know who these bastards are and what, exactly, they want from you. I’d have gotten their license plate and hacked my way into a program that would give me addresses and names.”

“Ceeee—iiii—aaaa.” Madalina singsonged the acronym. It was a way to relieve some of the creeping stress she felt at departing the hotel. Once they were out in the open, she knew she would feel exposed and vulnerable again.

He flashed a grin over his shoulder. “You just won’t give up the ghost on that, will you?”

“If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck . . .”

“It might be a wolf in disguise.”

“Isn’t that interesting imagery,” she said, looking behind her before starting down the staircase with Cole. The hallway was empty. As was the stairwell. Her boots tinged off the metal steps, while his descent was notably quieter.

Outside, the gloomy day cast down a light sprinkle of rain, just enough to wet the roads and ruin the pristine detail of newly washed cars. Madalina crossed the parking lot right on Cole’s heels, nervously glancing at each car in the row leading to the Jaguar. She half expected someone to pop up from a backseat, grinning like an evil clown in a horror movie.

Her imagination was running away with itself.

Cole held the passenger door open for her, constantly surveying the parking lot. Thanks to the way the car in the next slot was parked, it gave Madalina and Cole little room to maneuver. She had to squeeze past him, bodies brushing snugly together. Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment. He stared at her, expression unreadable. Sinking into the seat before he advised her to hurry up, she plopped her purse on her lap and fastened the seat belt. She wasn’t sure what made her heart race more: the eye contact with Cole, the nearness of their bodies, or the threat of their adversaries.

Once Cole was in the car, she slanted a look sidelong, unable to keep from secretly admiring his profile. His jaw. The strong column of his neck. She particularly enjoyed the way his shoulders filled out the shirt. He was still an enigma, and she didn’t know where all this would eventually lead, but she couldn’t deny her attraction. His diligence in keeping her safe was slowly eroding away her resistance.

“Which way am I going?” he asked as he pulled out of the hotel parking lot, breaking her spell.

Madalina gave him directions as she settled her coffee cup in one of the holders. Cole had left his drink behind. She imagined he didn’t want to be burdened in case they suddenly had company.

Cole decided on the most upscale, expensive store in the entire mall to do his shopping. Madalina hadn’t been spot-on with her accusation earlier, but there
were
hints of truth in it. He’d learned long ago that quality beat out cheap design every time, and he didn’t mind paying for clothes that would last longer than one spin through the wash cycle. He preferred brands with a history of dependability and decades of customer satisfaction. Price did not dictate his choices—although he wouldn’t ever pay three grand for a pair of jeans. A hundred bucks got him a sturdy pair of jeans or khakis or slacks that he could count on to see him through at least half a year’s worth of wear.

What he liked about the upscale stores was the customer service. No sooner had they entered the men’s department than an employee politely inquired about their needs or wants, and Cole didn’t hesitate to spell out exactly what he was looking for. Another blazer to replace the one he’d left behind (out of necessity) in Vegas, several button-down shirts to go with several pairs of pants, and dress shoes. The employee, a petite redhead with sultry eyes and a pouty mouth, listened attentively to every specification. She didn’t hold back an appreciative gleam in her gaze during the exchange, but didn’t openly flirt.

Cole caught Madalina watching him often, a surprised, intrigued expression on her face. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the vision she’d presented sleeping: dark hair spread over the pillow, cheeks flushed, her full mouth relaxed and pliant. Stripped of her feisty comebacks and prickly agitation, she’d looked stunningly innocent and vulnerable. He’d been surprised by the urge to trace her cheek with his finger, to wake her up with a kiss instead of an inquisitive stare. Cole had the capacity for tenderness; he just didn’t indulge in it very often. Didn’t need it in his quest for periodic sexual satisfaction.

When the employee returned with an armful of clothing, Cole approved the lot without trying anything on. Each article had been chosen to complement his build and coloring, and the lady doing the choosing proved to have an excellent eye. It spared him an hour of pawing through racks, an hour he didn’t want to waste. The only things he chose himself were undergarments and socks. The employee departed to hold his items until they were ready to check out.

“All right. Your turn,” Cole said, ushering Madalina through the broad walkways to the ladies’ department. Glass glittered and sparkled to the right along the makeup and perfume section, mirrors flashing back their reflection. Somewhere in the store, on a small dais between sections, a pianist plucked out a classical piece with expert skill.

When they arrived at the expansive women’s department, Cole bent near Madalina’s ear to whisper. “Get anything you want. I’m buying.”

One could learn a lot about other people by observing their habits and seeing how they treat other people. Cole shocked Madalina with his precision and businesslike attitude while he explained to the redhead what he wanted. The employee couldn’t quit staring at Cole with ill-suppressed desire, yet she remained schooled and professional as she saw to his needs.

Madalina just bet the woman would like to see to
all
of Cole’s needs. Taming the flare of annoyance, she allowed Cole to escort her through the store, aware of the way his hand almost-but-not-quite rested low on her spine. Her dread at having to spell out her sizes out loud fled when Cole whispered to pick out anything she liked, then decisively dismissed an oncoming employee. He hadn’t minded allowing someone else to choose his clothing, yet apparently didn’t want the same for her. Madalina thought he must understand how much fun most women had while shopping. Clearly, her ownership of a clothing boutique suggested she enjoyed clothes overall, and to be set free to shop as she would was a dream.