Protected Pt. 07

With a nod I turned on my toe and hurried inside. It wasn't that late, the huge clock on the wall behind the desk saying it was only minutes after nine.

"May I help you?" the woman behind the desk asked with a bright smile.

"I need a room, on the ground floor, for the night."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but the first floor is conference rooms and the like. Our guest rooms start on the second floor. Will that be okay?"

"That'll be fine."

I kept glancing at Colt sitting on his bike as we went through the normal routine of number of beds, number of people in the room, checkout time, and other shit that made me want scream to at her to hurry up. I finally passed my credit card over, thankful that I'd instinctually grabbed my purse on the way out of the house.

"Here you go, Ms. Larke," the woman said as she slid the room card across the desk to me. "You're in room 216." She leaned forward and pointed to my left, "Right down that way, up to the second floor, and your room will be on your left."

I pulled the key to me. "Thanks." I hurried to where Colt was waiting. "We have a room. Second floor," I said as I picked up my helmet.

He nodded, and slowly pulled away, turning his bike around before backing it into the nearest parking spot. I grimaced in sympathetic pain as he slowly dismounted. As he neared the door, he forced himself to stand straight, but I could tell it cost him. He was a mess. His face was smeared with blood, he had a nasty bruise forming around the cut under his left eye, and his shirt was dappled with blood where he'd bled through it.

"Which way?" he grunted as we approached the entrance to the lobby.

"Left."

He nodded. "Stay beside me on my right."

I moved into position, keeping myself between him and the woman behind the desk. He turned his head to look out of the windows as we passed, but after a quick glance, the woman returned to what she was doing and paid us no additional attention.

We moved through the lobby as quickly as he could, and though I could tell he was trying to hide it, he was limping slightly. I stopped at the elevator, but he shook his head and pushed open the door to the steps. We slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor, Colt helping himself up each step by pulling on the handrail with his left hand, his right arm tucked in close to his side.

"Why didn't we take the elevator?" I asked, my face twisted in sympathetic pain.

"I don't want anyone to see us," he grunted as he laboriously climbed another step. When we reached the second floor he paused. "Check the hall."

I opened the door. "Clear."

I led him to our room, swiped the card key, and pushed the door open. Inside, we put our helmets on the dresser and then he immediately began struggling out of his shirt and pants. I helped as much as I could while trying to be as gentle as possible. I bared my teeth as he was slowly revealed, every part of his body covered in scrapes, blood, and cuts. He stripped down completely and then examined himself in the full-length mirror mounted to the wall. His back and ass were littered with cuts, and while none of them were severe, there had to be dozens of them, some with tiny shards of glass sparkling in them.

"Jesus..." I hissed. "We've got to get you cleaned up and get that glass out of you," I murmured.

I went to the bathroom, wetted a bath cloth, and picked up one of the complementary drinking glasses. He'd sat on the edge of the bed while I was in the bathroom and was looking at his feet. I crawled onto the bed at his back, being careful not to touch him. The soles of his feet, like his back, were littered with tiny cuts, and walking had to have been incredibly painful.

I began carefully cleaning him up, returning to the bathroom to rinse the cloth when it became red with blood. I started with his face and worked my way down, dropping glass fragments into the cup when I found them. Tending him was therapeutic for me, allowing me to get past the fear and anxiety that had overwhelmed me on the bike.

"I'm sorry," I whispered when he hissed as I tried to carefully work a larger than average bit of glass out of his lower back.

He didn't appear to have any broken bones, but by tomorrow I was afraid he'd be one big bruise. His back and feet were the worst, cut by the glass fragments from the shower, but no part of him had escaped unscathed... even his penis. It wasn't bleeding, but there was a nasty looking abrasion on the side near the head, as if it had been roughly scraped against something.

"It's okay."

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I took some jujitsu as a kid. I haven't practiced it in years, but I still remember some of it." He paused for a moment. "Not enough to keep me from getting my ass kicked though."

I paused in my cleaning to look at his reflection in the mirror like he was crazy. "You walked away... he didn't. I'd say it was that creep that got his ass kicked."

"Maybe," he mumbled.

"No maybe. How'd they know where to find me?"

"I don't know. It makes no sense." He hissed again as I carefully wiped at a long, angry scrape on his hip. "Why is the Víbora Cartel so dead set on killing you they'd send a hitman to Houston?"

"I don't know."

"Is there anything you're not telling me? Any secretive old boyfriends? Know anyone with that snake tattoo under the hairline? Anything at all?"

"No."

"Shit! Careful! Easy!" he begged as I held gently held his penis and dabbed at it delicately, trying to make sure there was no hidden cuts or embedded glass.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"I have to get you to somewhere I can protect you."

"Where?"

"Rio Lago maybe. There were no attacks there. We can stay at my place, and the brothers can help."

"Are you sure they'll want to... after what happened before... and again tonight."

He was still and silent for a long moment. "I think. It'll be easier since you're not out in the field." He paused for another long moment. "If not... at least at my place I'll see them coming, and that'll give us a chance."

I rose from wiping away the blood and picking pieces of glass from his foot to kiss him ever so gently on the lips. "You did pretty well by yourself tonight, even without seeing them coming," I said as I went to the bathroom to rinse the blood from the cloth.

"I was lucky," he murmured when I returned.

I didn't say anything as I started working on his other foot, but it didn't look like luck to me. He'd disarmed and beaten the absolute shit out of a muscle-bound gorilla in sparse moments. I'd gotten the gun, thinking I could help him, but the men were moving so fast I was afraid to pull the trigger lest I hit Colt instead of the gorilla. It wasn't until he'd yelled 'run' that I realized there was nothing I could do to help him and had darted from the room.

I'd dashed into the guest bedroom at the front of the house before I stopped and turned, listening to the gorilla and Colt thumping, snarling, and bellowing as they fought for survival in my bedroom. It was a straight shot from the guest room down the hall into my own bedroom, and I had the gun up and ready. I knew I wasn't the best pistol shot, but I was sure this close, with fifteen or so shots, if that creep stepped into the door, I was going to ruin his day. When the sounds of their struggles stopped, I'd put my finger on the trigger and waited for one of men to appear, softly chanting 'Don't shoot Colt. Don't shoot Colt. Don't shoot Colt,' to myself. At the time it didn't occur to me how ridiculous I probably looked, standing naked in the doorway with a pistol in my hands ready to ventilate some asshole, but I'd held the weapon steady until I'd heard Colt's voice call me. I'd wilted with relief, lowered the gun, and hurried back to my bedroom.

"How are we going to get there? You can barely ride... and what about Mafic?"

"We'll spend the night here. Maybe tomorrow night, too, depending on how I feel in the morning. Can you call that woman who took care of Mafic the last time?"

"Yes," I said slowly, drawing the word out.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said with equal slowness. "You don't think Angela will get hurt, do you?"

He shook his head. "No. The cartel might be watching the house, but I don't think they'd do anything that stupid... especially if she goes in the morning and evening when people are leaving and arriving home from work."

"You don't think they'll take her and try to get her to tell them where I am?"

He shook his head again. "They haven't done that yet. Why would they need to? It seems like every time you pop up, they know."

I realized I'd left my phone beside my bed. "Do you have your phone?"

"No. I left it in your bedroom."

"I don't have mine either, and I don't know her number. It's in my phone."

I rose from cleaning his feet and looked him over. All the cuts had stopped bleeding again. Thank God the shower had been made of tempered glass, otherwise his injuries would have been much, much, worse.

"He'll be okay for one night. You'd just fed him and cleaned his litter box."

"How are we going to get our phones back... and lock my house?"

"We're not... at least not tonight. To dangerous."

He was right, and I knew he was right, but I didn't like leaving my house open. I hadn't realized how dependent on my phone I'd become until now, but I didn't know what to do about it. I also didn't like having a dead man in my bedroom... assuming he was dead. Colt had said he was only knocked out, but the sound of his pistol hitting the man in the head had made me sick to my stomach.

"What about the guy in my bedroom?"

"He's not there. Not anymore."

"How do you know? What if you killed him?"

"Even if I did, his buddy got him out of there. The Víbora aren't going to leave him behind to tie them to this. This may be all fucked up, but at least we won't have to deal with a dead body."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked. He held my gaze. "Oh... right," I murmured, remembering Colt and the BDMC had once been tied to the cartel themselves.

"Tomorrow we can get Mafic?" I asked.

"No. Send Angel in, and have her lock up the house when she leaves. We need to stay off the cartel's radar for a couple of days, but we won't forget him, I promise. We'll come back and get him in two or three days. We've got no way to transport him right now anyway. Once we get to Rio Lago, we'll come back. A quick trip up and back, and we won't tell anyone we're coming."

"My Jeep will be ready tomorrow. We could carry him in that," I suggested.

"That's going to have to wait too."

"What? Why?"

"Didn't you say Larke is paying for it?"

"Yes."

"Then someone at Larke knows you're going to be around to pick up. They'll know where, and maybe even about when."

I stared at him for a long moment. "You think it's someone at work?"

"Willow... I don't know, but it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense."

"But why?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. It doesn't make sense to me either, but it's all I've got at the moment. Nothing happened the entire week we were in Rio Lago, but literally the day after you arrive back in Houston, the cartel takes another shot at you." He held my gaze. "You tell me."

I couldn't argue with his logic. "But why?" I asked.

"I wish I knew."

"Yeah. Me too." I kissed him as gently as possible on the lips. "Thank you. I owe you my life... again," I whispered as our lips parted.

He touched me on the face. "Call your dad. Let him know what happened, and that you're safe, but don't tell him where you are."

"You surely don't think it's Dad?"

"Unlikely, but let's not take any chances. I'm so fucked up right now that I can't do shit to protect you."

I nodded slowly before I kissed him again. I pulled away and moved to the phone. I was ashamed I had to think a moment before I could recall Dad's phone number. I quickly read the directions on the phone and then grimaced. "This phone only calls the front desk, room service, and 911."

"You're kidding."

"It says it right here on the phone."

"Fuck."

I dialed zero, and after two rings, someone answered. "Front desk. How may I help you?"

"I need to make a call."

"Yes ma'am. Our room phones are room service and emergency use only."

"Yes, I see... but... uh... my cell phone is dead."

"Yes ma'am. In that case, we have courtesy phones here in the front lobby."

"Okay, thank you." I hung up. "I have to go to the lobby."

He was quiet a moment. "Okay. It'll probably be okay, but keep an eye out. If you see anything that looks out of the ordinary, don't worry about coming back here. Just get out the there and find someplace to hide."

I kissed him softly. "I'll be careful."

I left the room and hurried to the lobby. "I called about the courtesy phone?" I said when the desk attendant looked up.

"Yes ma'am. Right down the hall, on your right," she said, pointing past the desk.

Just off the lobby was a door labeled 'Guest Courtesy Phones.' I peeked through the narrow window in the door to see six more doors in a line down a narrow hallway. I opened the door to the hall and then entered the first tiny room, closing and locking the door behind me. The room was less than two meters square, and contained nothing but a chair tucked under a small wall mounted desk with the phone and a pad and pen on top. After taking a deep breath for strength, I dialed Dad's number.

"Hello?"

I instantly wanted to cry. "Dad?"

"Willow? What's wrong? Where are you calling from?"

"Dad... someone tried to kill me again tonight," I whimpered, gripping the phone tight.

"What?" he roared.

"I'm okay. Colt, he saved me, but we had to run."

"Tell me where you are! I'll come get you right now!"

I shook my head even though he couldn't see me. "We're okay, but I can't tell you where I am. I--"

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because I can't." I made up a lie. "Colt thinks that maybe your phone is tapped. I'm okay, but--"

"That's bullshit! My fucking phone isn't bugged! Just tell me where you are!"

I shook my head again. "I can't. I can't explain it to you now, but I can't. I'm safe, and you're just going to have to trust me."

"Willow, dammit, tell me where you are. Or... you remember where you used to like to go as a kid? The museum? You remember we used to go there? I'll meet you there."

"Dad, I can't. You have to trust me. Colt is with me, and I'm safe. I'll call you in a day or two, okay? I love you."

"Willow, tell me what's going on."

"I will, but not tonight... and not on the phone, okay? I love you, but I have to go."

He was quiet for a long moment. "You're safe?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Call me when you can. I'll have the office phones checked. Call me on my private office line."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, Baby Girl."

I slowly placed the phone back in the cradle. "Fuck."

I sat in the uncomfortable chair a moment until I was sure I wasn't going to cry again, and then rose. In the hall outside the small phone rooms, I opened the outer door a crack and peeked out. There was nobody around. I stepped out and hurried past the desk, nodding my thanks to the woman. When I arrived back at our room, I swiped the key card and let myself in. Colt was already in bed with a pillow tucked between his knees. My life was spiraling out of control, and the only thing keeping me together was Colt. He was the rock I was clinging to. I felt tears threatening again, but I forced them away.

"How'd it go?" he grumbled.

"Okay. He wanted me to tell him where we were."

"Did you?"

"No. I told him I was afraid his phone was bugged."

"Did he believe you?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You saw nothing suspicious?"

"Nobody but the front desk clerk."

He nodded. "Good."

"How're you feeling?"

"I hurt."

"Can you stand to hold me... or should I sleep in the other bed?"

His face twisting with his aches and pains, he slowly removed the pillow from between his knees and rolled to his back before patting the bed beside him.

I again struggled not to cry.

I had no toothbrush, no fresh clothes for tomorrow, nothing except the clothes I was wearing, but I had Colt to hold me... and that was all I needed.