Cold Spite (Cold Justice: Most Wanted #5)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

D elilah stood in the gritty sand as the surf washed over her bare feet.

She’d done it. Spoken to the man who’d broken her into little pieces years ago and survived to tell the tale.

It was a new moon and pitch black. The whoosh of the waves along with the freshness of the air calmed her inner turmoil and solidified her determination.

She could do this.

She took out the SIM card and threw both it and David’s old cell phone deep into the ocean. Then she retraced her steps back to her car and brushed off her sandy feet before slipping her sneakers back on.

She drove to long term parking at the airport, careful to avoid areas covered by surveillance cameras. She still wore Val’s pink ball cap and stank like a thousand cigarettes. She took it off and tied back her long, dark hair, then got out and opened the trunk. She pulled the wig out of her go-bag and eased it over her skull, adjusted it so it looked natural and hid her own hair. She checked it in the compact mirror she kept in the bag.

It gave her a jolt to see Lacey Reed staring back at her.

Joseph Scanlon had dragged her back in time .

But she was a different person now.

She certainly wasn’t the naive fool who’d believed every practiced lie Demarco had spun.

She pressed her lips together. Pulled out her go-bag, locked the SUV, and started walking to the terminal. There she used the restroom and freshened up a little, washing her face and hands, stuffing the pink cap into the bag and switching out the camo jacket for a black hoodie. She also switched her orange sneakers for a pair of black runners. Even though it was dark out, she pulled out dark glasses and slid them on her nose. Then she headed out of the terminal and walked out the main doors, hailing a cab. She had it drop her at the Marriott and walked through the lobby and out the side entrance.

The sea breeze was cool, and she shivered as she headed to the Hotel del Coronado. The old historic resort was where she and Demarco had met for stolen nights and weekends that were still seared into her mind.

She forced aside the memories.

She had no intention of reliving that illusion. The good times paled beside the bad.

The fact he’d offered to help her now didn’t negate what had happened. Helping was professional courtesy—same as warning him he might be next.

She spent ten minutes in the shadows of the large shrubs, watching the entrance and any vehicles for activity that would signal he’d betrayed her. Deciding to take a risk, mainly because she didn’t have much choice, she climbed the white painted steps. Inside the dark lobby with its impressive chandelier and heavy wooden columns, she glanced around, half expecting to hear shouts to get on the floor before being arrested for murder or leaving a crime scene or just being alive when she should have been dead. She wanted to believe Demarco wouldn’t betray her, but he’d proven himself to be an excellent liar.

Blind trust was for suckers.

She refused to be that gullible ever again .

The reception desk clerk’s expression didn’t change as Delilah walked up to the marble-topped counter. Old keys on green tassels hung behind the desk, harking back to a different era. Delilah tried not to hold her breath as the woman examined the old ID, but the smile told her the plan had worked.

The woman handed over a card for a cabana room, and Delilah nodded and walked away. Still half expecting to be arrested, perhaps inside the room, away from other guests. But nothing happened.

In the room, she sagged with sudden exhaustion. Tears wanted to fill her eyes, but she pushed them away. She’d cry later. First, she was going to help prove Joseph Scanlon had committed these crimes and put him away for good this time, even if it was the last thing she ever did.