Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(58)

My stomach twisted sickeningly to hear Ethan’s ability to speak so calmly about murder. When Clay had told me what his family did, his words appeared to weigh heavily on his conscience. Ethan seemed to treat it almost as a game; he appeared somewhat excited by the prospect of a mass execution.

Clay nodded vaguely as he slowly swept his head from side to side. I couldn’t help hoping that he was trying to locate me.

Ethan finally noticed Clay’s anxiety. “Why don’t we go get a drink together after all this goes down?”

Clay looked around before scrubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure, I’ll, um, see you inside in a minute,” he said.

I froze as Ethan’s footsteps filled the night; the memory of his pursuit and the knowledge of how little killing affected him chilled my blood. My back was pressed firmly against the hotel until I was certain he was far away.

Clay breezed straight past me as he made a beeline for the white fence that enclosed the receiving bay. Almost instantly, I stepped forward to follow him. He’d already grabbed my bag by the time I reached him—picking it up and hugging it to his chest momentarily before slinging it onto his back.

I took another step, and he spun around quickly, ready to defend himself against whoever had spied him.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his hand instantly shifting to the small of his back. The moment he turned though, recognition instantly lit his eyes.

In two steps, he was holding me and his lips were pressed against mine. He pushed me back and pinned me against the wall of the hotel. He peppered my mouth with soft kisses between his words. “I. Was. So. Worried.”

I pulled away from his hold, not wanting to lose myself in his attention.

“Your family, they killed my dad.” I’d known that simple truth for years, but hearing how little they regarded the lives they’d taken made my body tremble and my heart ache all over again. “They killed him, and they don’t even care. They would have killed me too.”

He clasped the side of my head and pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry.”

The tears that I’d hidden for so long spring to my eyes again. Taking a number of deep breaths, I tried to calm myself; it wasn’t the time or the place to lose my cool. As if he’d read my thoughts, he stroked my hair lightly and waited for my breathing to steady.

“I thought we’d have a little more time before they arrived. They were going to leave this early part up to the local guys. I thought we’d be able to slip out unnoticed.”

He released his hold and took my hand in his. “Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.”f





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


AFTER RUNNING from the Hawthorne Hotel, Clay and I fled for a few miles on foot. “Keep your head down and away from any cameras,” Clay said to me as we raced along the street.

When we were finally tucked up into a cab, Clay told me that he’d managed to secure a secret place for us to stay after seeing me near the shop. I was partly expecting the cab to pull up in front of a dilapidated warehouse like the one he’d stayed in while we were in Charlotte, but instead we stopped in front of a beautiful Sheraton. The lobby was housed in a separate colonial style building with massive arched windows that faced the road. A warm yellow light flooded out through the wide openings, casting a glow over the perfectly manicured gardens.

“Wow!” I exclaimed quietly.

The rest of the hotel rose from behind the front building, but it mostly blended into the inky night sky.

“You like it?” Clay asked.

“Like it? It’s beautiful.” I didn’t even bother to ask how much a room cost per night, because it was likely to be more than I could afford—especially after wasting precious funds on the other expensive room that would no longer see any use. I had no idea where Clay got the money for it, but then again when he’d left me in Charlotte, he’d left a few thousand with me as if it meant nothing.

“Then let’s head inside,” Clay said before throwing some money at the driver. By the time we were safely ensconced in the hotel elevator, my feet were aching and my body was tense from excess energy. I rested against the mirrored wall and closed my eyes to try to recover from the massive shift that had occurred in my life over the last twenty-four hours. When I opened my eyes, he was watching me carefully.

“I have something to admit,” he said when he realized I was watching him.

“What’s that?”

“It’s silly, but I booked this room with the hope that you’d be with me tonight.”

“Why’s that silly?”

“I hoped I could make good on a promise I made to you a long time ago.” His mouth broke into a wicked grin, but he refused to say anything more.

The elevator opened before I had a chance to coerce anything more out of him.

Once he’d led me to our room, I slipped off my shoes as I surreptitiously watched Clay’s movement.

“Home sweet home,” he said.

The words caused a grin to spread over my lips. I still couldn’t believe I was back with him again. It seemed surreal that against all odds I’d found him and, more miraculously, that he still cared for me. It was enough to make me deliriously happy. Although I did have some pressing concerns.

“Why are we waiting here anyway?” I asked. We’d only traveled as far as Wakefield—far too close to the action for my liking.