No One to Trust (11 page)

“Yeah,” he practically growled.

“Have you seen the news this morning?”
Grant’s voice was grim.

Porter’s heart beat a staccato rhythm.
What could have happened now?
“No.”

A heavy sigh. “That ‘little’ explosion made
the morning news.”

“Do the detectives on the case know any
details?”

His brother cursed under his breath. “They
know the SUV is registered to Red Stone but other than that,
they’re in the dark.”

Porter rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t
want you taking any heat for this later. Tell them I was driving it
and—”

“Not yet. Right now they’re not so much
concerned on who was driving it as who
fired
that RPG. I’ve
let one of the detectives know—off the record—to look at the
Seventy Ninth Street Gang as a starting point. They’re not wasting
man hours and they know more than they would have without my help.
I still think you two should come in. After what happened it’s
understandable that you went into hiding but—”

“Forget it.”

“Why are you being such a hardass? I know you
want to protect Lizzy, but—”

“It’s better you don’t know everything,
Grant.” Porter wasn’t about to tell his brother about the key
they’d found. Not yet. First he wanted to see what was inside the
safe deposit box. Not to mention he’d stolen a car the night
before. Telling his
detective
brother about that would put
Grant in a compromising position and Porter didn’t want to put
pressure on Grant. Keeping his family uninvolved in all of this was
one of his main priorities. Right after keeping Lizzy—no,
Elizabeth
—safe. He forced himself to think of her as
Elizabeth. It was the only way to keep his distance from her. Lizzy
was the woman he’d dated. The woman he fantasized about. The woman
who he’d just been half-naked with. “I’ll call you later.” Before
his brother could protest, Porter ended the call.

When he turned toward the bathroom door he
realized Elizabeth had hung his shirt on the knob. Inside the other
room he could hear water running. “I’m going to grab some breakfast
bars for us,” he called through the door as he slipped his shirt
on.

“Okay. I’ll be out in a sec.” Her voice was
slightly muffled with the barrier between them.

After checking out the window to make sure
there wasn’t anyone waiting to ambush him, he opened the door and
he headed down the cracked sidewalk toward the main office. He’d
seen two snack machines the night before and while there wasn’t
much inside either one, he knew Elizabeth would be hungry. As soon
as they left the motel he planned to find an inexpensive outlet
store and buy them both a change of clothes with cash. Since
Orlando wasn’t as powerful as his father, Alberto, had been, Porter
doubted Orlando had the ability to track their credit cards, but at
this point he and Elizabeth were staying off all radars.

If they went to the bank wearing their
clothes from last night they’d stand out. And Porter had no idea
how many spies Orlando had around Miami. Blending in was one of the
most important things they could do right now.

After purchasing four snack bars, he walked
back to the room. As he strode down the sidewalk he noticed a blue,
two-door muscle car cruising through the parking lot at a very slow
speed.
Too slow.
It was about eight in the morning but there
wasn’t any other movement outside the rooms or in the parking lot.
When he spotted the blue and black bandanas the two men in the
front seat wore around their heads, his heart rate increased.
Seventy Ninth Street Gang colors.

Instead of showing a reaction, he peeled open
one of the bars and started eating it like he didn’t have a care in
the world. Keeping his pace normal even though every instinct in
his body screamed at him to run, he remained steady until he
entered the motel room. If these guys were after Elizabeth they
wouldn’t want to do anything out in the open. They’d try to strike
inside the motel room. Which gave Porter a few moments to get her
to safety.

The second he shut and locked the door behind
him, he tossed the food and grabbed the extra gun he’d left for
Elizabeth on the nightstand.

At that moment Elizabeth walked out of the
bathroom wearing her rumpled dress from the night before. She must
have read the expression on his face because hers instantly
tightened in alarm. “What’s going on?”

“I saw what looked like a couple of Seventy
Ninth Street Gang members drive by. Could be nothing but we can’t
leave out the front door.” Without waiting for a response, he
motioned for her to follow as he headed into the bathroom. In
seconds he managed to shove open the small window. He glanced over
his shoulder. “We’ll crawl out here.”

“Okay.” With wide eyes, she nodded. After
yesterday she was unfortunately aware of just how bad their
situation really was, which was probably why she didn’t question
him.

Chapter 8

Lizzy wiped damp palms against her ruined
dress. When would this nightmare end? It was as if there was
nowhere
they’d be safe. Not until she and Porter figured out
what that blasted key opened up.

After peering out the window, Porter grabbed
her by the waist and helped hoist her up through it. Without shoes,
the gravelly pavement dug into her bare feet, but it was a small
price to pay.

As Porter slid through after her, she heard
the distinctive sound of their front door slamming open.

Then male voices.

Her pulse skyrocketed.

“Run,” Porter said, his voice barely above a
whisper.

With a racing heart, she did just that.
Ignoring the biting pain in her feet, she took off with Porter next
to her across the parking lot behind the motel.

There was only one car and a green Dumpster
in the back and it didn’t provide them much cover. She knew Porter
had a couple guns on him but without any place to hide and at least
two men after them, she was still terrified.

“What are we doing?” she rasped out.

Before he answered, someone shouted loudly
behind them. “Hey!”

She risked a quick glance over her shoulder
to see a man looking through the window and brandishing a handgun.
She almost tripped, but Porter grasped her upper arm, keeping her
upright.

“Keep running.” His voice was as rock steady
as his stride.

How the man could stay so calm right now was
beyond her. If she stopped and thought about everything that had
happened the past couple days, she was afraid she’d have a
breakdown. But not Porter.

The man was like ice.

“See that fence?” He motioned toward their
right.

A dilapidated metal fence with multiple wide
gaps surrounded a large expanse of patchy grass and pavement. A few
rusting basketball hoops and picnic benches were all that remained
of what she guessed had once been a play area. “Yeah.”

“We’re going to cut through there and head to
those buildings.”

Behind the rundown area stood a plethora of
abandoned boarded up warehouses. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Considering the less than stellar area of town they were in, she
couldn’t ignore the thread of fear that slid down her spine. They
might be running into something worse than what they were running
from.

Before she could voice her fear, a loud
engine roared behind them. As they ducked through an opening in the
fence she glanced behind them again, unable to stop herself. It was
as if a fire breathing monster was at her back—a monster with
guns—and she needed to see how far away the danger was.

A two-door car was rumbling around the corner
of the motel. She and Porter had enough distance between them that
they could make it to one of the warehouses first. The car couldn’t
cut through the decaying park. Instead it would have to drive all
the way around and cut back to reach the warehouses. That didn’t
lessen her anxiety because if those guys caught up to them…Lizzy
shivered.

“Focus on getting to safety.” Porter glanced
at her as they ran and the determined look on his face gave her the
strength she needed.

She sprinted along the paved areas, afraid of
what might be in the grass. Needles, broken glass, and only God
knew what. At least now she could see what she was running over
even if her feet burned with the agony of slamming against the
pavement over and over.

Stay alive!
The two words screamed in
her head. She could deal with any pain if it meant getting away
from gun-toting gang members.

When they reached the other side of the park,
Porter lifted part of the fallen fence back for her to squeeze
through, then followed after. This time she made herself keep her
eyes straight ahead. She didn’t need to see if the car had rounded
the block.

“Almost there,” Porter murmured. Grasping her
upper arm, Porter guided her toward a three-story building with
windows spray painted black or covered with rotting boards.

Her lungs burned but she forced herself to
push on. Somewhere behind them she could hear the sound of that car
engine getting closer.

The moment they stepped inside the building,
Porter scooped her up in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Your feet are bleeding. We can’t leave a
trail.” As he spoke he didn’t look at her, just glanced around the
open expanse of the warehouse. Looking for a place to hide.

He began running across the hard surface
toward a stack of decaying wooden crates. Considering he was
carrying her, his fast, measured movements were impressive. Moments
later he set her down and they hunkered behind the crates.

When he took off his jacket, she frowned.
“What are you doing?”

He ripped the arm sleeves off and gently took
one of her feet in his hands. “I’d give you my shoes but you’d only
trip all over yourself and carrying you isn’t a long term option.
As soon as we get out of here, I promise to take care of your
feet,” he whispered. Gingerly, he began wrapping one of her soles
with the torn sleeve. His gentleness had the potential to undo
her.

The moment the cloth made contact with her
exposed skin, the pain hit. Her feet were raw and bloody and now
that they’d slowed down, a splintering ache ran up her legs, making
all her nerve endings tingle in awful awareness.

The sound of car doors slamming in the
distance made her want to scream in frustration. But she held it
back as Porter secured the ripped cloth around her other foot.

Using his hands, he motioned behind them to a
door with a burned out EXIT sign above it. Understanding, she
nodded and followed.

It felt as if tiny knives dug into her soles
with each quiet step she made.

“Find the woman!” An accented male voice
reverberated off the interior of the warehouse. “Kill the man if
necessary, but keep her alive.”

Her eyes widened at the vicious orders, but
Porter didn’t even falter in front of her. Footsteps echoed behind
them but they quickly continued onward. They had limited cover
right now and unless they got outside soon they’d be
discovered.

As they reached the exit door with the
blacked out window, Porter slowed, then eased it open a fraction.
It slightly squeaked, the sound overly pronounced to her. Glancing
through the small opening, Porter nodded that it was clear outside
before they slipped through.

Blood rushed loudly in her ears as he
gingerly shut the door behind them. Before she could ask what their
next move was, he pointed to the right. Two similar looking
buildings stood next to the one they’d come out of and the back
alley led directly to a street.

The sounds of cars and city life seemed so
far away but she knew if they could just get to some semblance of
civilization they’d be able to blend in better. Or at least find a
place to hide.

As they ran down the back alley toward the
street, Porter pulled out his cell phone and dialed someone.
“Grant, I need your help.
Now.
”

Despite the pounding in her chest and the
bitter taste of fear coating her mouth, she allowed herself a small
breath of relief. Help was on the way.

Chapter 9

Orlando tightened his hand around his phone
but refrained from slamming it to the pavement by his pool. Instead
he shoved it into his pocket then flexed his fingers.

“What did they say?” Miguel asked, referring
to Juan and Eddie Ortega, the two brothers of the Seventy Ninth
Street gang he’d hired to do his dirty work.

Orlando turned at the sound of his cousin’s
voice, anger a live thing inside him. One of the bimbos who
frequented his house strolled up with Miguel, a glass of champagne
in her hand. Orlando knocked it out of her hands. “Get the hell out
of here!”

With wide eyes she scampered away, leaving
Miguel shaking his head. “Damn, cousin, you’ve got to stop scaring
the girls.”

“Fuck them,” Orlando snarled. “And fuck Juan
and Eddie. They can’t do anything right.” He’d hired them because
they didn’t have direct ties to his organization. And they were
fairly cheap labor. He should have used his own guys for this
operation. Better yet, he should have handled it himself. But he’d
gotten a tip from a local junkie this morning who said he’d seen
Elizabeth and Porter at some roach motel and it had been close to
the Ortega’s neighborhood.

Orlando had put word out on the street to be
on the lookout for Elizabeth and sure enough, a tip had eventually
come through. Some people would do anything for money, especially
drug addicts.

“You see the news?” Miguel asked quietly.

Orlando gritted his teeth. Yet another
disaster. Using an RPG in the middle of Miami? It drew way too much
attention and could have killed Elizabeth, screwing up his entire
plan. “I don’t know what they were thinking,” he muttered.

His cousin shrugged. “They got overzealous.
Wanted to impress you.”