Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,232

of me?” he asks, approaching.

“I’m not rude.”

“I like it.” He takes my free hand, uncurling my fingers from my palm and places the keys into it. “I’ll be right back.”

He heads into the shop and I glance around at the few people filling their cars with gas. Since it’s nine o’clock at night, it’s pure darkness except for the gas station which is lit up like an alien UFO in the middle of the desert.

Bringing my gaze upward to the dark sky, my jaw slackens at the million or so bright, white stars on display. Other than the highway noise, it’s the crickets instead of horns honking and hustle and bustle of the city.

I’m not sure how long I stare in awe, taking in the pure serenity this small gas station parking lot has granted me, but when a hand touches mine, I jerk back.

“Relax.” Roarke’s voice calms my fight or flight response. “First time out of the city?” His tone is teasing and I let my gaze fall to him.

“It’s gorgeous. Do you miss it?” I ask.

His Adam’s apple bounces down and up. “No.”

He takes the keys from my hands and rounds the front of the Range Rover.

Once I’m back in the comfy leather seat next to him, he opens the sunroof screen so the sky is visible above us, puts the key in the ignition, and before I can think to ask a follow-up question we’re back on the highway.

I can’t help but wonder why he would bring me here, if he doesn’t want to be here himself.

Two hours later, we pull off the highway, right into a motel parking lot. Twenty white vans with the same landscaping business name are parked in the far side of the lot.

“This is where we’re staying?” I ask, eyeing the peeling paint on the doors and the grass growing up between cracks in the concrete.

He parks the SUV under the awning beside the sliding glass doors.

“I know it’s not The Drake but trust me when I say this is the best there is around here.”

“It’s fine.” I was brought up better than to make someone feel bad even if the circumstances are less than ideal. “Are the doors to the rooms on the outside?” I look across the parking lot to a line of doors on the first and second floor of the building.

“They are, but Woods Parlor doesn’t have a lot of crime unless you count domestic violence and public intoxication.”

I tighten my lips at his mention of two very different offenses. “So, I’m safe you mean?”

“I’ll get you settled and then go track down my sister. I’ll only be about twenty minutes away if you need me.”

Twenty minutes? He can’t save me if he’s twenty minutes away. I’ll already be raped, murdered or whatever by then.

“Okay.” I straighten my back, reminding myself, I’m a Crowley and I don’t need any type of savior. Thank goodness I have pepper spray though.

“I love when you act like you can take on the world.” He exits the car before I can reply.

It’s not usually an act, but it is right now.

I follow Roarke into the small lobby where he presses a little bell and we hear someone grumble from the room behind the front desk, and then a loud boom echoes in the small space.

“You okay, Ted?” Roarke leans over the counter.

“Roarke Baldwin?” A short-statured, round-bellied, bald-headed man emerges in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “I saw your name on the list and thought maybe I missed you. My shift started an hour ago.”

Roarke holds his hand out and the man wipes his on his stained wife beater before accepting the offering. “Chicago did you good, huh?”

Ted isn’t looking at Roarke’s three-piece suit or the Range Rover parked outside. Nope. His eyes are on me. On my breasts to be precise. He licks his lips and my stomach clenches.

Roarke steps in front of me, cutting off Ted’s line of vision. “I have. This is Hannah, she’ll be staying here.”

“Sorry about booting you out of the other room, but Wyatt’s granddad and all.” The two men speak in a language I’m unfamiliar with.

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll be at my mom’s.”

“All the way in town?” Ted asks. Twenty minutes is all the way? Twenty minutes could be one block for me at the height of rush hour in the city.

“Yeah.” Roarke shrugs.

“So, she’s not yours?” Ted points to me as though I’m a dog or a piece of property to be owned.

My fists