Risky Obsession (Wolf Security #3)

21. Kane

CHAPTER 21

Kane

A s I carried the ice bucket along the silent hallway, my body hummed with after-sex vibes. Tory was so fucking hot. It had been a long time since I’d had sex, and I’d never been with a woman who drove me wild like she did.

I didn’t find an ice machine on our level, and at the end of the hallway, I took the stairs down to the mezzanine floor. Maybe after a couple of glasses of champagne, we could do that all over again, but slower this time. I wanted to savor every piece of her hot body.

Menacing voices echoed to me from the lobby below. I pressed my back to the wall and peered over the grand banister. A man dressed in black was at the reception desk, but the dangling chandelier obstructed my view of him.

“Murder!” the young woman behind the counter said.

Who was murdered?

A chill ran down my spine. The man at the counter shifted closer, giving me a better view of his back. His broad shoulders and the muscles bulging beneath his tailored suit were not from casual exercise.

“Two Australians are the prime suspects,” the man said.

Oh fuck!

“Are any Australians staying here?” His voice thundered off the marble floor .

The woman stepped back, exchanging terrified glances at the bellhop who had greeted us earlier.

“Please, sir.” The woman raised trembling hands. “We cannot disclose information about our guests. It’s against?—”

“What about now?” The asshole aimed a gun at her face.

She screamed and ducked below the counter. The gunman swung the weapon toward the bellhop.

My heart launched to my throat. He was the bastard who had attacked us at the last hotel.

I bolted back to our room, taking the stairs two at a time. My mind crashed all over the place. How did he find us? Who was murdered? I flung the door open, and Tory gasped. She’d pulled on her pink tracksuit and was seated on the bed.

I double-bolted the door, pleased that those locks would take some effort to break through.

“What’s wrong?” She jumped up.

“We have to go,” I said, racing toward the table with the maps.

“Why? What’s going on?” She sprinted to her bag and tugged on her socks and runners.

I shoved the folded maps into the envelope. “The guy who attacked us is in the lobby.” I pulled on my leather jacket and slotted the envelope into my inside pocket.

Tory shoved clothes into her case.

I pushed open the window, and frigid air blasted my face. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll just grab my things—” She sprinted toward the bathroom.

“No time. Get your jacket.”

“Goddammit.” She ran back to her case and yanked the zipper closed.

I tossed my duffle out the window. “Give me your bag.”

She hurled her case at me and as she zipped up her jacket, thuds pounded on the door.

She gasped.

“Come on.” I dropped her bag outside and grabbed her arm to help her over the ledge. “Move. Move.”

“I’m not going without you.” Her eyes drilled into me with a mix of fear and determination.

“I’m coming.” I pulled on my sneakers and climbed over the windowsill with her .

The frigid wind swirled around us and with my teeth clenched, I jumped to a large branch. Leaves shuddered as I scrambled to get hold.

Gunshots thundered beyond our bedroom door.

“Fuck.” Gripping a higher branch, I moved along to give her room. I held my hand toward her. “Tory, move!”

She jumped across the distance, landing lightly on her feet. A loud crack echoed above me, and the branch I was clinging to snapped off, and I just about fell as I said, “Go. Go.”

Dodging and weaving, we scurried downward with the branches creaking beneath our weight. Tory’s agility impressed the hell out of me. She leaped onto the ground, and as I jumped to her side, gunfire erupted above us, showering us in bark.

Although her eyes showed her fear, she sprinted to her bag.

I grabbed my duffle, and we ran toward the lush gardens.

Our breaths were ragged and urgent as we aimed for a low hedge circling a moss-covered fountain.

Gunfire pierced the night air, wild and erratic.

“Get cover!” Tory dragged me down behind the hedge with her. “We need to get out of here.”

In the moonlight, her eyes simmered with rage.

The arm of the angel in the fountain exploded, and we both flinched.

“We need to get to our car. Let’s go.” Hunching over, she scooped her suitcase into her arms and took off like a gazelle.

We raced through the serpentine garden paths and with gunfire echoing behind us, we left the cover of the hedge and ran toward the line of trees that marked the parking lot.

We were ten feet from the rows of parked cars when panic clawed at my chest. “Tory. I don’t have the keys. The bellhop took them.”

She darted around the back of a minivan, and I joined her.

“Shit. What do we do?” Her chest heaved.

Two gunshots boomed from inside the building. These weren’t wild and desperate like the previous ones. These were controlled. Lethal.

“I think he’s executing witnesses,” I said.

Tory’s face washed to deathly pale. “We need to get out of here.”

Her tone was surprisingly calm.

“Check the cars. Maybe someone left their keys.” I reached for her hand, and when she winced, I realized I’d grabbed her injured one. “Where’s your brace?”

“Back there. But I’m okay.” She squeezed my palm as if proving it to herself.

So brave. So amazing.

The glow from the interior of a car stood out from others. I inched higher to see who was inside.

The moon didn’t shine off the roof like it did for all the other cars. My breath hitched. It was the matte black BMW from the parking lot.

“Tory, that’s the car we followed from the castle. The door is open.”

“It must be his. Come on.” She sprinted ahead of me, and I hated how exposed she was as she darted between the vehicles.

I reached the driver’s side and the keys were in a slot in the door. “The keys are still here. Get in.”

As she raced around the other side, I tossed our bags into the back seat.

My pulse pounded in my ears as the silence of the hotel behind us rang loud and clear.

“Get down.” I pressed the start button, and the engine roared to life. I rammed the car into gear and the tires screeched against the asphalt as I peeled out of the parking lot.

The terror marring her expression tore out my heart.

At the top of the driveway, I yanked the steering wheel, careening us onto the road. The BMW’s powerful engine growled beneath us, and as I raced along the dark winding streets, Tory pulled her seatbelt on.

She ran her palm along the leg of her sweatpants. Her eyes were wide, her lips were thin, and she looked like she was going to pass out.

“You okay?” I asked.

“No.”

“We’ll be okay,” I said as I swerved around a corner faster than necessary.

She gripped the door. “Pull over. Pull over!”

I yanked the car to the side of the road. She opened the door, spilled from her seat, and raced across the grass to a thick bush. As I pulled on the handbrake, she vomited.

“Oh jeez.” I killed the engine and hurried around to her side. “Tory, I?— ”

“Go away.” She flicked her hand over her back, warding me off as the sound of her retching echoed in the quiet night.

“Come on, let me —” I stepped closer.

“Go away!” She hurled again.

My heart was torn to shreds by the distress in her voice.

I stepped back, feeling helpless as Tory hunched over and her body shook with another violent purge.

The sound of her pain tore through me as I walked around to my side of the car. I wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be okay. But we’d gone way beyond that.

We didn’t just have a deadly killer on our tail. We would also have the cops.

I opened the back door and fished through my duffle bag for a shirt she could use to clean herself.

Once her moans of agony stopped, I returned to her side. Her legs wobbled as she walked to the car and leaned against the side.

“Here, take this.” I offered my shirt.

Her shoulders sagged as she pressed the shirt to her mouth.

In the moonlight, her skin was deathly pale. I hesitated, but I couldn’t see her distressed like this a moment more. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to my chest.

As I rubbed circles over her back, she sobbed into my chest. “We’ll be okay, Tory.”

Her shoulders tensed as she sucked in a massive shaky breath like just breathing hurt like hell.

“Take your time.”

She straightened up, wiping her mouth with my T-shirt. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“No need to apologize.”

The pain in her eyes ripped my fucking heart out. This was all my fault. She shouldn’t be here involved in this mess. Pops kept those clues from me for a reason. Now I knew why—people would kill for them. Because of me, Tory was in a killer’s crosshairs.

What had started as a fun adventure, had turned into a fucking nightmare. It was time to pull the pin.

I rested my hand on her cheek .

She leaned into my palm as her eyes locked on mine. “We need to figure out our next move.”

“Our next move is going home.”

“What?” She jerked away.

“The fun’s over, Tory.”

“No!” She took a step back, folding her arms over her chest. “I am not giving up.”

“It’s not about giving up. It’s about not getting dead.”

“Kane, do you know how many people have died because of that stupid gold?”

“What?” I scowled at her.

“Aria’s friend Kai was killed because of that gold.”

“And I’m sorry about that but?—”

“Dozens more have been killed because of it, including those people tonight. Death has been following these clues for over eighty years. Assholes will continue to kill to get their hands on it.” She put her hands on her hips and then gasped, lifting her injured hand. “I am not stopping now.”

I couldn’t believe she wanted to continue, but I couldn’t stop the smile curling on my lips.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” I clutched her cheeks and kissed her forehead.

She didn’t pull away like I expected. Instead, she seemed to crumble toward me, maybe relieved to get her anger off her chest.

Still holding her cheeks, I said, “In that case, we need to get our asses to Cuxhaven.”

“Hell yes, we do.” A tiny grin crossed her lips, and the sparkle in her fascinating blue eyes stole my breath away.

We jumped back into our seats and as I pulled the car onto the road again, Tory fiddled with the car heater and checked the glove box.

“Is there a GPS on that thing?” I pointed at the large LCD display centered in the console.

“Let me see.” She shuffled forward on her seat and after jabbing just two buttons, she found it.

“Great. Key in Cuxhaven. With a bit of luck, it won’t be too far.”

“Sure. But shouldn’t we get rid of this car first?”

“Not yet.” I scanned the rearview mirror. The road behind was empty. “We need to put some distance between us and that asshole. ”

Tory tapped the GPS screen, and a map displayed. The only word I recognized was Cuxhaven.

“Hey, it’s only five hours,” she said.

“Perfect. We’ll be there before sunrise.”

“We should take turns driving.”

“Roger that,” I said. “I’ll take the first shift.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Once we get near Cuxhaven, we’ll ditch the car somewhere that it hopefully won’t be found for a while.”

“Hopefully they won’t put a BOLO out for it.”

“A BOLO?” I chuckled.

She shuddered. “Be on the look out. BOLO.”

“You been watching too many cop shows.”

“I guess.” A frown washed over her that was so dark I wondered if she felt ill again.

She released a huge sigh and shifted in her seat to look at me. When she swallowed, I got the sense she wanted to say something that I didn’t want to hear. Like having sex with me was a mistake. I fucking hoped not, because I was keen for a whole lot more of that.

And a whole lot more of Tory.

Deciding on a distraction, I said, “Hey, see if you can find any news on the radio?”

As Tory’s slender fingers fiddled with the dials, a silence settled between us. I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the GPS screen, and could tell she had some serious emotion brewing inside her mind.

The moon cast a haunting glow over the winding road, and its light speared through the tall trees flanking the asphalt like laser beams. Voices burst from the radio as she ran the dial across the channels, but each time the station was in German.

“—breaking news,” a woman’s crackling voice said through the speaker.

“Oh, here we go.” Tory adjusted the dial, trying to improve the signal.

“Murder of renowned Symbologist Gunter Sachs,” the woman said, her voice coming in clearly now.

Tory and I gasped.

“Oh fuck!” I shook my head. “He was alive when I left him.”