Plain Sight Page 17

  “No pancakes?” I asked, sitting down next to Dylan.

  “Nope.” He smiled. “Just roast beast.”

  “Beef,” Vaughn corrected, and eyeballed where I had sat.

  My choice to sit next to Dylan had been strategic. He couldn’t be snatched out of the booth if I was in front of him, but I didn’t know if Vaughn realized that.

  The food in front of him, though, was mostly untouched. Vaughn poked a fry into the ketchup and swirled it around and that was about it. He munched on one, but I never saw him take a bite of the sandwich. But instead of chastising him, I turned to Dylan.

  “You have a hardy appetite this morning, dude. How are you feeling?”

  He kept his voice quiet. “I was so scared, Miss Birdie. The noises and the banging and the guns going off. But you are an awesome driver and…well. It was kind of cool.”

  “Mmm, Dylan. It might have seemed cool, but what happened this morning was very, very dangerous. There were some very bad men after us, and what your father and I did with the guns was not the best thing we could have done.”

  While it had been the only thing we could do, the best thing would have been to never have gotten in the situation.

  “I know, Miss Birdie,” he said. “All that stuff going on made me really hungry this morning though. I didn’t want pancakes.”

  “Growing boys need food,” I said. “And you don’t have to call me Miss. Birdie is just fine.”

  “Are we going to have to drive for a while again today?”

  “Someone is coming to fix our car, since it got a little banged up. I was thinking it would be smart for us to take a nap, and just relax while we wait for them.”

  “In the car?”

  “No, they have really cool napping pods here you can buy for a few hours at a time. You and your dad can catch some shut eye and we can get rolling later today.”

  “What about you?” Vaughn asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “You need sleep too, Birdie,” Dylan said. “You’re always awake. Don’t you sleep?”

  I grinned. “I do, dude. Just not when you’re awake.”

  “Are you going to have breakfast?” he asked.

  Staring at Vaughn, I answered, “Yes. I am. It’s one of the most important meals of the day. And, because of our little bout of excitement this morning, it’s even more important.” Turning, I looked at his son. “You know why?”

  “Becausss M thuper hu’ry?” he answered around a mouthful

  “But do you know why you’re so hungry?” Dylan shook his head. “Because when something like this morning happens, your body tells your brain something is going on. Your brain answers back by making more go juice, gas for your muscles, what doctors call adrenaline. And when you’re all done being excited or scared, there’s a lot of extra gas that’s been used and you have to refill the tank. That usually means extra food.”

  “That’s kind of cool,” he said.

  “It is, but you have to remember to gas up.”

  This time, my gaze bore into Vaughn, and the edge of his lips quirked up. He picked up the sandwich in front of him and as it reached his lips, he mumbled, “Yes, mistress.”

  My eyes widened, but I saw the laughter in his eyes. I shook my head and headed for the counter. I needed food, and I needed sleep. Maybe being surrounded by so many burly dudes would give me a chance to actually get some.

  Yeah. Right.

  The mobile body shop was way more discreet than I imagined. They looked at the car, gave me a price and told me to buzz off for about four hours.

  Vaughn leaned in close to me as we watched Dylan play a game of pinball.

  “You need to sleep, agent.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re a liar.” He looked at me. “You need to sleep far worse than Dylan or I do. I’m taking the wheel when we get the car back and you’re going to take a nap. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not napping.”

  “The hell you aren’t. They aren’t going to try and get us again this quickly after the last try. They seem to like a few days in between.”

  “I’m not napping.”

  He leaned in even closer. “For fuck’s sake, Bridget. Let me help you. You don’t have to do all this alone. I pulled the gun and shot at someone this morning after swearing I never would. But they pointed that weapon at my son in the back seat. I am in this with you, and you need to let me fucking help you.”

  Glancing at Dylan, I turned to watch him. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Like Hell we will. You’ll sleep. Until we get wherever the hell we’re going.”

  When they brought the car back, Vaughn fought me for the keys. He used his size and height to his advantage, and kept me away from them. I tried to climb into the driver’s seat, but stepped in front of me and pointed me to the other door.

  “This is ridiculous,” I mumbled.

  “Did you change the plates?”

  “It was included in the price of the body work,” I answered. It took me a second to realize what he had asked. “Wait…”

  Vaughn glanced in the back where Dylan was playing with the iPad again. “You think I’m going to drive a silver Camry with the same plates from last night?”

  I cocked my head at him. “Are you getting used to this?”

  “No. But I’m getting a handle on what has to happen.” He turned the engine on, and put the car into drive. “I’m also not half bad at driving, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. Normally, I’d bristle at the term, but…from him, from the way he said, it made my stomach flip-flop.

  “Fine.” I folded my arms and nestled into the seat. “Impress me, big man.”

  The car pulled into traffic, and that was the last cogent thought for five hours.

  Vaughn

  Bridget was out like a light before we got three miles from the truck stop.

  I laughed. I knew how tired she was. I was a father, for God’s sake and I could tell when someone was lying about not being tired.

  At first her head tipped forward and she was quietly breathing against her chest. But after a quick pee stop for Dylan on the side of the road, I walked around and put the seat back.

  Then, she started snoring. Great sawing snores. Dylan and I both laughed.

  It was a little late when we got on the road, but I knew that ultimately we wanted to get to Huntington, West Virginia as our next stop. It wasn’t a long ride, so I just plowed our way through and wound up just outside the small city at about seven at night.

  “What do you think, Dylan?” I asked. “Should we get food or try to find a place to stay?”

  “I think Birdie would like to eat. It’s been a while since lunch,” he said. “Can we get Arby’s?”

  “You are going to grow horns and start mooing, dude.” I laughed. “Let’s see if we can find some KFC or something like that.”

  I was actually dying for something that wasn’t deep fried. I would’ve killed for a Primanti’s or just a damn hoagie at that point. But the first thing we came up on was a Bojangles’ and so deep fried chicken it was again.

  We still didn’t wake Bridget as we drove through town. I was tired of the cheap hotels we’d been staying in. Not that I didn’t appreciate what they were—allowing people to travel for low costs across the country—but I was fortunate enough to be able to afford a nice hotel.

  Pulling up to a mid-budget hotel, I sighed. Would they ever, ever let me have a room without a credit card? That was our biggest hurdle. They needed ID and a card for incidentals.

  I stared at it, dreaming of a big shower, and no mysterious stains on the carpet.

  Felix: How do I rent a nice hotel room without a credit card?

  TheMoney: You don’t. You stay in the questionables.

  Felix: Fuck that man, my back can’t take another cheap mattress. I want to sleep on sheets without that sleep sack thing.

  TheMoney: You’d make a terrible spy.

  Felix: You do know I’m NOT
one.

  TheMoney: Location please.

  Felix: 9HVM+QH

  TheMoney: Hold please.

  I stared up at the building. A slow realization rolled over me.

  I was seeking what I would never have again. I wasn’t going to be able to go back to the life I had before Helen’s death. There was no way I could live behind a desk at Walsh-Tyndale anymore—not that they would ever, ever fire me, they were too honorable for that—but I couldn’t sit there and know that there were people like me out there being targeted for simply being honest and being able to spot a bad pattern.

  I would do everything I could to help my son have a normal life, but it would never ever be fully normal again. There would be no house in the burbs, no white picket fence, no minivan in the driveway. Even if I did manage to achieve that level of middle-class again, there was little chance I would feel comfortable there again.

  It would be more that I was an interloper, or a flat out faker. And that wasn’t how I wanted to live.

  But how did I want to live?

  TheMoney: One Mister Aaron Bretton is booked in for a suite for two nights at said location.

  TheMoney: You have the IDs?

  Felix: They’re in the bag, with everything else.

  TheMoney: Don’t trash the room, please. It’s a ghost card that goes nowhere. You’re good for a few snacks and water off the thing, but that’s it.

  TheMoney: Was that her handiwork outside Evanston?

  Felix: Damn skippy.

  TheMoney: I would have liked to see that.

  TheMoney: Enjoy your mini bottles of shampoo.

  Felix: Thank you. My back thanks you. And the Little Dude thanks you even more if there’s a pool.

  TheMoney: There’s a pool.

  “We’re good, Dylan. We have a room here tonight.”

  “Mngh?” Bridget’s eyes fluttered open. “Chicngh?”

  Dylan giggled, and I tried not to.

  “Weren’t tired, eh, 007?”

  She rubbed her eyes and suddenly came fully awake. “Oh my God, where are we? How long was I out? Why do I smell fried chicken?”

  “You slept the whole five and a half hours, Bridget. The whole thing. From the moment we pulled on to the highway, until just now. Even through the Bojangles’ drive through.”

  “God, I hope you got me a biscuit,” she grumbled.

  “Of course. Why would I be that foolish?”

  Looking around she realized we were parked in the lot of the Towne Suites, and sighed. “I know you’re dying for a real bed, but we really can’t stay here.”

  “Miles set it up, it’s under an alias,” I answered.

  She looked at me, shocked. “You…you’re still chatting with Miles?”

  “Why not? He knows what the deal is.”

  Blinking a few times, she tried to rub more sleep out of her eyes. “I’m impressed. And starving. Please tell me that chicken is fresh?”

  “Well, as fresh as Bojangles’ gets.” I smirked. “Ready? I just need to go check in.”

  She yawned and nodded again. “Yes please. I’m hungry and I want a real shower.”

  We checked in with no problem, the receptionist even mentioning the whole thing had been prepaid. She handed us two card keys and sent us up to the fourth floor and down to the far end of the building, a few doors down from the stairs.

  The room was spacious. After being nearly on top of each other for the past week, it was a huge relief. Bridget quietly and surreptitiously cleared the room as she always did, even though Dylan was ensconced on the couch wanting to play the video games they offered. I’d have to text Miles in a while to see if he could.

  This little suite felt like a palace compared to the places we’d been staying, and it was wonderful. As soon as Dylan discovered there was a pool, he was inconsolable that he didn’t have his swimsuit, until I told him he could swim in underwear and shorts. It made him insanely happy.

  We all headed down to the pool for a bit, and even I got into it, kicking my feet in the water. I wanted Bridget to join us, but…she was clearly on duty by the way she was sitting.

  Getting Dylan back and washed, I settled him on the couch to watch Cars. He loved the movie and I wished we had some of his toys with us.

  In the end, it didn’t matter because he was asleep by the time Radiator Springs appeared on the horizon.

  “You should put him in the bed,” Bridget said. “It’s late, and you need sleep.”

  I glanced at the sleeping child on the couch, and how he was so tiny on the piece of furniture. I ran a hand over his head and looked at Bridget. “Let him sleep there.”

  “Well, I mean we could.” She ran a hand down her face. “I could sleep in the chair, or maybe—”

  “No.” I hoped the word brooked no argument.

  She let out a huff. “Look, Vaughn, I don’t usually admit when I’m wrong. But you’re absolutely right. I need to sleep. I’m beyond exhausted. I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

  “Right, and there’s a bed right in there with clean sheets and a bunch of pillows and blankets. There’s a hot shower, and we have the bar on the door.” I tipped my chin down and stared at her. “They have a pattern. You saw it. It’s not an everyday attack on us. They’ll regroup and come at us in a few days. I don’t know how they are able to find us, but we have a break tonight. Let’s take it and both get a good night’s sleep.”

  She swallowed. Hard. I could see the thoughts racing through her head, trying to find an excuse not to share that bed with me.

  Walking around the back of the couch to where she was standing, I grabbed Bridget around the waist and pulled her close. “I know exactly what happened last time, Birdie. I don’t know what’s gone through your head since then, but I can tell you what’s gone through mine.”

  Her long, slender fingers pressed against my shoulder. “Vaughn…”

  “My life is never going to be the same. I saw my wife murdered. I watched them try to kill my son, twice. People have been killed to keep me safe. I pulled the trigger on a gun with the intent to kill. Whoever I used to be, I’m not him anymore. I’m not quite sure who I am yet, but I do know that man is insanely attracted to you and worried about you.”

  “I’m trained for—”

  “—all this, yes I know. But you crashed out in the car. And I mean crashed. And if you want to find these assholes as much as I think you do, you need to sleep. You need to crawl into that bed and get a full eight. And I want it all to be while your pressed against me.”

  She stared at me, her eyes darting around my face, and landing on my lips. They jumped to mine, and she let out shaky breath.

  I chuckled. “The woman who took out a small platoon of assassins in broad daylight in a hotel parking lot is afraid of lying in bed with me?”

  “There won’t be any lying,” she hissed. “Just getting laid.”

  I paused, then answered, “Yes. I know.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bridget

  I slammed my mouth over his as I threaded my fingers through his hair.

  It would be smarter, my brain screamed, to not let this actually happen again. You couldn’t make good decisions when your brain was working with your heart.

  But my heart, and my libido, basically told my brain to fuck off at that point. I wanted to get in bed with this man and do lovely, filthy things.

  So I kissed him. Hard, possessively. I slipped tongue inside and sucked on his bottom lip. I nipped at his top one and tasted every corner of his mouth.

  When Vaughn’s arm tightened around me, I could feel the evidence of his arousal on my hip.

  “You brought the condoms, right?” I gasped.

  “A big fucking box of them, yes,” he answered.

  “Good,” I managed to ground out. Grabbing his hand, I pulled him into the bedroom and closed the door. It went against everything I had in me to close that door, but just like Dylan needed his sleep, Vaughn and I needed this.

  I’d
locked and barred the door anyway. Dylan had been too frightened today to leave the room without us.

  Ragged, heavy breaths heaved Vaughn’s chest as he stared at me, and finally shook his head. “I don’t have it in me to play at undressing you, Birdie. Just get naked.”

  “That sounds fantastic,” I said, and pulled my shirt straight up and over my head. I had taken the gun and holster off earlier, so I didn’t spook Dylan. And it made this so much easier.

  He made a muffled groaning sound as soon as he saw my bra, but I held him off and made him pull his shirt off as well.

  I reciprocated the groan of appreciation. It had only been a few days since I saw his body, and that was in the dim light under covers. This…was on display. And what a lovely exhibition it was.

  My finger reached out of its own accord and traced the little faint lines of his abs that disappeared a bit into his dad body. It was a four pack and I loved the softness of his stomach below that. He had the downy trace of hair on him, from his pecs down into his pants and I wanted to see the whole thing. I wanted that happy trail to lead me to adventure.

  Before I could find out, Vaughn’s hand was on my breast, his fingers playing with my nipple—petting, pulling, twisting it under the fabric. I wanted more and I didn’t want to wait for him to realize that. Reaching behind me, I pulled the clasps open and let the bra fall forward, unwrapping from my skin, slipping down my arms.

  Vaughn let go of me just long enough to allow the cloth to fall to the ground—and then his lips were on me, sucking and biting and teasing the pearled tips. He pressed me back to the bed, and dropped to his knees between my legs, his mouth secure on me.

  I sifted my fingers through his hair, scoring my nails on his scalp lightly. He shuddered and sucked harder.

  Shit, this man was going to make me come just with my tit in his mouth. I was not complaining—but I did want more.

  “Play later, naked now,” I said, pulling him off my skin.