Pure Dynamite (38 page)

The whine of a racing engine heralded the passing of another vehicle, this one a sheriff's car.

"We can't stay here," Adam announced. "I'll see where this road leads."

He pulled Renata to her feet. He wasn't about to leave her with Lyle again even for a few seconds.

As soon as they rounded the curve and were out of Lyle's line of vision, Adam hugged her. ""You're a bigger person than I am, offering to help Lyle after his last fiasco."

"It's what I do. In some stupid way, I think I understand that even better now."

They came to a clearing,
highway maintenance—no trespassing
, the sign read. Adam swept the area quickly with this flashlight. Dark pieces of equipment were stored behind a waist-high chain link fence. A backhoe. A tractor. Two flatbed trailers.
And a pickup truck with a snowplow.
A small barn was off in the corner.

Before she could protest, Adam picked Renata up and dropped her over the fence. Then he jumped it and headed toward the barn.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

Making a fist, he shattered a small pane of glass on the door. "We're breaking and entering."

He tugged her inside. The building was obviously a seasonal storage facility. Judging by the layer of dust on the floor, the place hadn't been used in months. He checked the interior with his flashlight. Hanging on
the wall, beside a fire extinguisher, was a small locker marked KEYS.

He flipped it open and helped himself to the ones marked FORD and GATE. "Now we're going to steal a truck."

Renata held up a metal box. "We're stealing a first aid kit, too. All the medical supplies were lost with the car."

Outside, Adam helped her into the cab of the truck. The engine coughed and sputtered, then caught. A wrench lay in plain view on the floorboard. While the engine warmed up, Adam quickly unbolted the snow- plow, then climbed in the truck and backed up, leaving the snowplow sitting in the lot.

"Did you get a sudden attack of conscience?" Renata asked.

He stroked her cheek. "A snowplow in July might attract attention."

After picking up Lyle, they drove six hours, stopping once for him to use a pay phone. They were instructed to stay on course, to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Lyle again rebuffed Renata's offer to examine him, so Adam stuck the first aid kit behind the seat.

Their destination turned out to be a small motel. The Howdy Lodge. The name was the only thing welcoming about the rundown motel. Only a few cars were pulled up to the twenty-odd units belying the NO VACANCY notice. The neon sign in one window marked the office.

Adam hoped the fact that they were staying in a town meant they were getting close to Willy. The noose
was tightening, and they'd had their last close call. The police were overdue for a lucky break.

The window blinds at the office parted. As always, they were being watched. Adam pulled to the side of the motel.

"I need to get rid of this truck. It's a dead giveaway."

"You know the drill," Lyle said. "Leave the keys inside and it will disappear."

"And you know I don't like being without wheels."

"I'll call Pa. Just hurry."

They walked toward the front of the building.

"The doors will be unlocked," Lyle said. "You take unit seven. I'll take eight."

Adam started to speak when the door to room number eight opened. A woman with bright yellow hair slipped out the door and hurried toward them.

"She's cool," Lyle said. "Her uncle owns this place."

The woman sidled up to Lyle, hugging him as she pressed a noisy kiss to his mouth. Lyle made a pained noise, then swore.

The woman backed away. "What's wrong, sugar? I thought you were all better?"

Alarmed, Renata extended her hand. "You really should let me take a look."

Lyle nodded toward the woman. "Wanda works at a clinic. She'll be taking over my care now."

Renata eyed the woman skeptically. "I don't—"

"That's right," Lyle snapped. "You don't have a say in it. Not anymore. She does."

Wanda shrugged. "Whatever. But I put the supplies in their room, so I'll need to grab some stuff."

"Hurry back." Lyle disappeared into the room.

Wanda led Adam and Renata to room seven. "Your unit has a kitchenette. So I left all the food and supplies in there." "Any chance we can get some clean clothes?" Adam asked.

"Check the closet and the chest." The woman went to the shelf in the kitchen area and grabbed tape and gauze.

Renata followed and eyed the supplies. It was basic first aid stuff. "There's no saline. Or antibiotics."

"He didn't mention those. In fact he said he was good to go." The girl grabbed a box, held it up. "He was more concerned that I have plenty of these. Got you some, too."

latex condoms
, the box read.
St. Luke’s Crisis Center
was stamped on the box. Renata shoved them away. "You can take all of them."

Wanda lowered her voice and tipped her head toward Adam. "I wouldn't use 'em with him, either. Guess I just hear so much at work about safe sex."

"You're a nurse?" Renata quizzed.

"A receptionist. At the women's clinic."

"I think I should help you then."

The woman shook her head. "For now, he wants me. If we need assistance, I know where to find you."

Exasperated Renata turned away. If Lyle didn't want her help, she wasn't about to force herself on him.
So why was she worried about him?

She sighed. It was hard
not
to be a doctor.

As soon as Wanda left, Adam locked the door and finished checking the room. The unit, while dated was clean enough. The small kitchen area had a table built against the wall. A bed, a mismatched dresser, a television, and two chairs filled out the rest of the room.

The dresser drawers were stocked with clothes of various sizes. They obviously weren't the first fugitives this place had housed. The only thing missing was a telephone. Not that he would trust using it.

Shoving the heavy drapes back slightly, Adam peered out. There was a pay phone near the office. He had little choice but to use it to call Zach. With the watchers, it would be tricky.

He turned on the television, bumped up the volume before turning back to Renata. "We can talk now."

"Is someone listening?"

"I doubt it, but just case, the TV will cover our voices."

Relief eased her brow. "What happens next?"

"The plan hasn't changed. You'll be freed. Hopefully by nightfall."

He moved closer, hovering. While he couldn't wait to secrete her away in his brother's care, to know she was safe, part of him didn't want to let her go. Stan had been right. She had gotten under his skin.

He brushed at the dirt smudged on her cheek. A woman like her should be adorned in precious jewels, wrapped in satin and silk. What had he given her? Misery. Grief.
Class act.

He snagged the clean clothes he'd dug out and tugged her toward the bathroom. While sleep was the last thing on his mind, he knew she had to be exhausted. "Let's get you cleaned up. I'll see what I can find for food."

He turned on the water then knelt to untie her sneakers. A simple act, but one he'd done enough times it felt familiar. Adam's reaction was familiar, too. He immediately grew hard.

He didn't bother to fight it. But he did back away. With the pretense gone, there was no danger of her trying to escape, no reason to force her to shower with him. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"Don't go. I, I don't want to be alone right now."

The plaintive note in her voice reminded him that this was the first time they'd had a moment to themselves since the car had gone over the ridge. Being on the run had forced them to push the incident from consciousness. Now the aftermath surfaced. She was shaking.

He tugged her into his arms. "You're a brave woman, Renata. You've been through hell."

"I didn't feel brave back there. Not when I thought the car was going to explode."

"It didn't." If it had ... For long minutes he simply held her. Everything had gone crazy. He had questions without answers and all his plans were in tatters.

When she spoke again, her voice was husky. "Are you ever going to tell me your real name?"

"I'd rather wait till it's over."

She sighed, resigned. "The less I know the better, right?"

"Actually, no." He pulled away slightly, cupped her chin. "When this is over, I want to see you again, on a personal basis. I thought meeting under my real name would give us a fresh start. But now that I'm hearing myself say it, it sounds rather lame."

"No, it doesn't. And I'll look forward to that introduction." To his surprise, she reached up. Her fingers stilled over one of the buttons on his shirt. "May I?"

At his nod, she slipped the first one free. Adam caught his breath. There was something erotic about watching this woman undo his shirt. She pushed the edges of the shirt aside, raked her fingers across his torso, over the scars above his left nipple.

"Will you tell me about these someday?"

Someday.
The word suggested a future. And offered an option. For him not to tell if it was too painful. She didn't push. She didn't demand. She asked. His chest tightened. For the first time in his life he understood how shared secrets, shared intimacies, built bonds. How they also made one vulnerable.