We pull into the mostly abandoned motel parking lot less than thirty minutes later. From the outside, I’d assume the place had gone out of business years ago with its weed-ridden, cracked sidewalks and Bates-esque broken neon sign.
The No-Vacancy sign hangs to one side, only three of the nine letters visible. I flick off my headlights and pull the truck into the surrounding wooded area, inching around the back to a spot where we can get a clear view of the strip of rundown motel room doors. Only two cars are parked in the front, a mid-range compact with Nevada license plates and a rusted-out Jeep. Sticking to edge of the lot and out of sight, I park, shrouded in a canopy of shadows created by overgrown trees.
Rex grabs for the door handle before the truck comes to a complete stop.
“Hold on.”
He freezes and whips his head around, eyes wild like an animal who’s been locked in a cage for a year too long. “No, let’s go get this fucker.”
“We have no idea what we’re headed into here. Which door do we hit first? If they panic, they could throw her in a car and be gone in seconds. We gotta be smart about this. I won’t risk losing her again.”
He blinks, and the animalistic fog fades to logic. “You’re right. Okay.”
We sit back and watch the sleeping motel, checking windows for lights or curtain movement. Minutes pass and feel like hours. I know there’s a good chance Trix is just behind one of those doors. But which one?
The place is smaller, roughly twenty-five rooms. More of them face the highway, but I can’t imagine her being stashed over there where Hatch could be freely seen coming and going by people on the highway.
The clock ticks, and almost an hour passes before I catch movement to the far left of my vision. “Someone’s there.”
Rex follows my glare, and we watch a man emerge from a room on the far end. I squint, trying to make him out, but there are no lights in the lot or along the motel walls.
“He’s headed to another room.” Rex’s gaze tracks him right along with mine.
The closer he gets, the more he starts to come into focus. He’s wearing a baseball hat pulled down low, so I can’t make out any features, but something about him is familiar. Maybe he was at the villa the night she was taken.
“Dammit.” I squint when all but his legs are hidden from view beneath a fallen overhang. He stops at a door at the opposite end from where he came.
“I can’t see shit.” I keep my eyes on his feet, waiting to see who comes out of the room and where they’re off to. I hold my breath, hoping like hell it’s that motherfucker Hatchet so I can barge over there and beat the living piss out of him.
The door opens, and Rex and I lean in, but I can’t see enough to make out anything other than him disappearing into the room.
Fuckin’ hell . . . now what?
Trix
“Come on.” Hatch’s growl comes from the other side of the tiny two-person table. “Eat up.” He presses a whiskey bottle to his lips, taking a few long pulls of amber liquid.
Even after days of his barking commands, my stomach still twists every time he snaps. These last few hours he’s seemed tenser than usual, taking phone calls that require one word answers and end with a string of curses.
I’m cuffed by one arm to the leg of my chair while I pick at a cold cheeseburger with my free hand. “I’m not hungry.”
My heart burns at the memory of the last cheeseburger I had with Mason, how life had seemed so complicated then. I was so stupid. I had everything I never even knew I wanted and turned my back on it all for this?
Being held captive has given me time to think, to face my own mortality, and to pray. I’ve gone through every emotion possible, wringing them all dry until I’m left with only one.
Remorse.
I wasted so much time. I could have been living but didn’t, and Mason . . . God, I should’ve thrown myself at his feet when I had the chance. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
“Eat!”
My eyes dart to Hatch’s, and the telltale glaze of inebriation coats his glare.