Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,90

without getting tangled in a web of half-truths. Their professions put them on a collision course with each other. She wanted inside information, and he couldn’t give it to her. If he did, he’d be putting his job on the line. Even the mere perception that he was leaking info to a reporter would mess with his reputation among cops.

But the simple fact was he liked her. She was evasive, and determined, and stubborn to the point of recklessness when she got her mind set on something, and Jacob still didn’t care because all the things that ticked him off about her were the same things that had attracted him in the first place. Bailey had his number, and she knew it.

She slid her hand into his, and Jacob’s heart gave a kick. She gazed up at him with those gray-blue eyes, and a little line appeared between her brows.

“You’re thinking,” she said. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, he turned her hand over. Her palm was scraped raw, and his stomach clenched as he thought of how close she’d come to taking a bullet today.

“I need to get back to my room and clean up,” he said.

“Don’t go.” She rested his hand on her hip. “Clean up here, with me. Or don’t.” She smiled up at him, and he felt his resolve slipping.

She reached up and traced her finger over his stubble.

“Don’t go. Please?”

It was the please that did it. Again. When she looked at him that way, he couldn’t say no.

He pulled her close and kissed her.

* * *

* * *

BAILEY LAY CURLED against Jacob’s back, breathing in the scent of his warm skin as she drifted in and out of sleep. A band of gray seeped through the gap in the curtains. Traffic gradually began to pick up on the highway outside.

Jacob’s phone buzzed on the dresser. The mattress shifted, and she pretended to be asleep as he crossed the room.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

His tone told her it was his partner.

“Yeah.” Pause. “Roger that.”

She lay still, waiting for more. He rested the phone on the dresser, and she realized the call was over. She opened her eyes as Jacob stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

The shower went on, and Bailey smiled. He’d showered last night, too, but they’d gotten distracted a few minutes in.

She pulled Jacob’s pillow against her and sighed. She needed to get up. She needed to get dressed. She had things to check on and messages to send, and she couldn’t afford to let the morning get away from her. And then there was the problem of Jacob and what to tell him.

Her stomach knotted, and she hugged the pillow closer. She’d promised Tabitha that she could trust her. But Jacob trusted her, too. Bailey was caught in the middle.

A low grumble in the parking lot caught her attention. The engine noise neared the door of the motel room. Then it cut off.

Bailey bolted upright. She glanced at the clock and grabbed a T-shirt off the floor as she rushed to the window. Parting the curtains, she spotted a charcoal-gray pickup with black-tinted windows. Bugs and dirt on the windshield hinted at a long road trip.

“Crap,” she murmured, pulling the shirt over her head. It was Jacob’s, and it hit her midthigh. She rushed to the door, quietly undid the security latch, and stepped out, keeping the door ajar with the heel of her foot. It wasn’t even light out yet, and the motel’s red neon sign looked blurry in the predawn mist.

John Colt stepped onto the sidewalk. Gray shirt, black jeans, shit-kicker boots. He hadn’t shaved, but he looked alert, despite the drive from Austin. Bailey had called the skip tracer last night to enlist his help. Colt had a unique set of skills, and Bailey was in over her head.

“You’re early,” she said.

“That a problem?”

“Just . . . give me a minute.”

She slipped back into the room and cast a glance at the bathroom, where the shower was still running. She took off Jacob’s shirt and yanked on her own clothes, then shoved her feet into flip-flops. She cast another look at the bathroom as she grabbed her phone and slipped out again.

Colt leaned against the hood of his truck, surveying the motel.

“This way,” she said, leading him down the sidewalk.

“Nice place.”

“It’s inconspicuous.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her as they stopped in front of 112.

“She might be still asleep.” Bailey knocked quietly on the door.

It swung open. Tabitha was fully