A mirthless chuckle escaped. She had the appearance of a furry animal—a raggedy black sheepdog maybe. Oh well, it’d have to do. After emptying the shopping bag, she pulled the price tag off the small tote and put the toiletries in it. Wadding up the clothes she’d removed, she stuffed them into the plastic bag and put it in the garbage can. Now that she had done her best to hide the evidence of her stupidity, all she had left to do was wait for Jake.
She turned to leave the not-too-clean bathroom, and her gaze fell on the discarded clothes. Could they be evidence the cops could use against Fortunada? Crap. As much as she never wanted to touch them again, she decided she should hold on to them.
She carried the tote and the plastic bag with the bloody clothes to the dresser and set them next to her car keys. Thank God she was in the habit of dropping those into her pocket. She surveyed the room. The Bluebird Motel was no five star, that was for sure—hell, it couldn’t even claim two. Now what? If she had her law books, she could at least study for her exams while she waited. A check through all the drawers produced nothing to read, not even a Bible.
With the tips of her fingers, Maria lifted the once-white-but-now-yellowed bedspread. A large stain marred the left side of the sheet. Who knew what had been done on the thing? There were probably bedbugs just waiting to attack. She leaned down and peered at the corners of the mattress but didn’t see any. Didn’t mean they weren’t there.
It would be another hour or more before Jake arrived. A nap would be nice, but she hesitated to get into the nasty bed. Yet, hadn’t she grown up in a house that would make this room seem like the Ritz-Carlton?
“No offense, Ritz, just saying it like it is,” she muttered.
She pulled off the cover and threw it on the floor. Deciding she didn’t want anything slithering over her in the dark, she left the lamp on. Careful not to touch the stain, she crawled onto the right side of the mattress.
Bedbugs be damned, she was exhausted.
CHAPTER TWO
The man chased her, the heavy tread of his boots pounding the pavement, growing louder as he caught up with her. Maria tried to run faster, but her legs refused to cooperate. Oh God, he was right behind her. He reached for her and grabbed her hair.
She screamed and shot out of the bed, gasping for air. Frantically searching her surroundings, she saw nothing familiar.
Where the hell was she?
The pounding continued.
“Dammit, Maria. Open the fucking door.”
Jake.
Thank God. She rushed to the door, tripping over the cover she’d thrown on the floor.
“Stop your banging, I’m coming.” The noise mercifully ceased.
“Unlock the damn door,” he said, much quieter.
Untangling herself from the offending spread, she stumbled toward the safety of his voice. The lock and chain were barely open before he pushed his way in and took her in his arms. Unable to resist Jake’s strong, fierce hold on her, Maria pressed into his embrace and tried to catch her breath. Maybe she should’ve called her brother, but she was glad she’d called Jake. So very, very glad.
He rested his chin on the top of her head, and she felt his chest rise and fall as though he too craved air. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me, woman. I was about ready to kick the door down. Why were you screaming? Why are you hiding out in a motel room?”
Where to begin? Wriggling away, she stumbled back, although it was the last thing she wanted to do. If she could spend eternity in his arms—no questions needing answers—she would fall to her knees in gratitude. But he hadn’t traveled two hundred miles to be put off.
The cover she’d removed from the bed rested on the floor between them. She stared at it, half expecting the thing to undulate like some kind of giant anaconda, proving the nightmare was real.
“What happened to you?” He brushed back her hair and gently touched the bruise. “Jesus, Maria, who did this? You better start explaining, or I’m going to call your brother. You should’ve called him in the first place. Talk.”
His tone sounded so cold and forbidding when she’d thought he would show up and . . . what? Cuddle her? Carry her home with him—no explanations needed? Stupid, stupid Maria. So naive. She just never learned.
“Tell me what’s going on, or I’m getting in my car and returning to my warm bed . . .” Something she couldn’t decipher glimmered in his eyes as he paused, his gaze focusing on her. “. . . where a lady eagerly awaits me.”
Maria didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t leave her like this. Not that she doubted there’d been a woman in his bed. There always was. She quashed the hurt, although why she cared was a mystery. Jake was what he was, and he hadn’t earned the nickname Romeo from his teammates for no reason. All that really mattered was that he had come when she’d called, and she somehow knew he always would.