Until You Loved Me (Silver Springs #3)(39)

Getting his keys, he rushed out of the house. But then he made himself go back and shower and shave. He had to look civil, unthreatening, presentable. He even splashed on some cologne.

There, he thought as he studied himself in the mirror. He didn’t appear dangerous. Other than his bloodshot eyes and the tightness of his jaw, evidence that he’d had a rough night, he simply looked like the jock he was supposed to be.

“Here’s hoping,” he said and grabbed the card Ellie had given Aiyana. He thought it might help him convince the motel manager that she’d come to Silver Springs planning to meet with him.

*

“What do you mean, she’s not here?”

The same manager Hudson had met yesterday—Monty, according to his name tag—was manning the front desk. “What I said. She cut out right after you left.”

Hudson’s heart sank. “But I need to talk to her.”

Monty made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I’d say it’s best you leave her alone.”

Like hell. She was carrying his kid. “Did she mention where she was going?”

“Back to Miami, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “That’s where she’s from. I told her I’d have to charge her for the stay, but she didn’t care. I did credit one night,” he added, as if that mattered to anyone besides Ellie.

“She lives in Cooper City.” She’d told him that much at the club. “Can you give me her address?”

“Sorry, no. I’m not allowed to give out that kind of information.”

The keys in Hudson’s hand dug into his fingers as he tightened his grip on them. “But you did take a copy of her driver’s license.”

“Of course. That’s standard operating procedure.”

“So you could call that up on the computer—and you could easily give me her address.”

His eyes widened. “Except I can’t, like I said.”

“Why not? Who would know?”

The guy seemed flustered. “I would! What if I gave you her address and she ends up getting beaten or...or murdered? I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the next Nicole Simpson!”

He must’ve acted even crazier yesterday than he remembered—or this guy had one hell of an imagination. “That’s ridiculous. I would never hurt her or anyone else,” he snapped and stormed out. He didn’t need the manager. He could get that information easily enough from his private investigator. And he proved it. After one phone call and an hour’s wait, he had what he was looking for.





11

Ellie couldn’t change her flight, not without significant added expense. It was cheaper to get a motel room until she could leave town, so that was what she did.

Since she was in LA, she told herself she’d do a little sightseeing on her free day. Forget Hudson; enjoy herself. But she never made it out of the room. She couldn’t stop crying. She wasn’t even sure what she was crying over. That was the weird thing. She just couldn’t shut off the waterworks, not with pregnancy hormones working against her.

Once the worst of her crying jag was over, she spoke to Amy, who was anxious to hear how her meeting with Hudson had gone.

Amy wasn’t too happy once she learned. She called him a big jerk and used several other choice words. But she ended the conversation with an optimistic “You don’t need him.”

Although Ellie agreed, she wasn’t entirely convinced she was rid of Hudson for good. That last line he’d texted her—I have rights, you know—made her uneasy, which was probably why she hadn’t mentioned that part of their exchange to Amy, hadn’t mentioned anything that had happened after he left her motel room.

Hoping he’d forget about her and the baby, that everything would be okay despite the terrible choice she’d made to alert him, Ellie decided to look forward and not back. But she was still depressed the next day, especially on the flight home, when she came down with a headache and chills. She tried to convince herself it was only morning sickness, especially when the nausea kicked in. But she hadn’t experienced much of that so far, and morning sickness was supposed to ease in the second trimester, not suddenly appear.

By the time her plane landed in Miami, she was afraid she was getting the flu.

“You can make it,” she groaned as she hurried to catch the bus that would take her to long-term parking, where she’d left her car.

“You okay, miss?”

She’d just sat down, closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the seat. She hadn’t paid the bus driver much attention when she handed him her carry-on, but judging by the concern in his voice, he’d noticed that she wasn’t looking well. She wasn’t feeling well, either.

Forcing her eyelids open, she attempted to reassure him. “I’ll be fine,” she said and slid over to make room for other passengers.

The repeated jerk of the bus as it started and stopped several times nearly caused Ellie to throw up.

Somehow, miraculously, she managed to hang on to the small dinner she’d had on her layover in Houston and considered herself lucky when she reached her car without an embarrassing incident.

After tossing her luggage in the trunk, she took off, eager for the privacy and comfort of her home. It was getting late—nearly eleven—and the flight had been long and crowded, with a child kicking the back of her seat. She couldn’t wait to fall into her own bed.