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I leaned across the armrest and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” I said. Adrian nodded and dipped into the gas station’s store to get us snacks while I filled the tank. When everything was taken care of, I pulled back out onto the road. “Where am I going?”
Adrian pulled up the directions to the motel we’d chosen—one that had quick access to Atlanta, but was far enough away that we probably wouldn’t fall under Ian Hayes’s radar. Glancing over at the screen, I frowned when I saw the motel’s low rating.
“Is this really our best option?” I asked.
He shrugged. “We can pay in cash, and we probably won’t end up with scabies from the towels.”
I grimaced. “Well, thank you for putting that thought in my head.”
Adrian chuckled. “Happy to help.”
THIRTEEN
ADRIAN
“Ithink maybe I was being optimistic about the scabies thing,” I muttered as we pulled into the motel. Nataliya’s laugh, sweet and melodic, carried me into the lobby.
The motel was old, that was for goddamn sure, and the man behind the desk grinned too salaciously when I mentioned we were going to pay in cash.
“For an hour or two, sir?” he asked, and he looked over my shoulder, out the filmy window to where Nataliya was waiting in the car.
“Two days,” I gritted.
The man’s smile was nauseating as he gave me the price. We exchanged money for keys—actual keys, what the hell—and I rushed back to the car. Nataliya jolted as I slammed the passenger side door behind me. “What room number?”
I looked at the number engraved on the key. “Room 207.” I hoped it was far from the lobby.
As luck would have it, Nataliya had to circle to the back of the property. We were on the second floor, on the corner, near the back stairs. It was a good vantage point, and I was glad not to have our car visible from the road. We had no reason to believe that Hayes knew what we were driving, but if he’d been able to track down Zach, he might know about Nate and Emily, too.
And, even better, the lobby was not a reflection of the quality of the actual room. It was a little dated, yes, but it was clean. “Oh, this isn’t bad,” Nataliya said as we set down our bags. “I’m not afraid to take my shoes off.”
I laughed, and something relaxed in my chest that had been tight. “You’re braver than me,” I said, and we shared a chuckle.
But that good mood couldn’t last. The longer we stayed in the motel doing nothing, the more tension crept back between my shoulders. I hated having to “hurry up and wait”—I was a doer by nature. But it would be illogical and stupid to do anything without Zach and Gabe. Even recon could be risky.
“Are you okay?” Nataliya asked. She had been going through the files again, seated at the scarred table pushed against the wall opposite the double beds.
I shook my head. “Going stir-crazy.”
It was worse than that, though. I was angry, and I had nothing to vent that frustration on. “Dirty FBI agents, and they’re going after my team. I just?—”
“It’s a good thing.”
Nataliya’s words landed like a blow. “Excuse me?” I demanded.
“Obviously, Hayes doesn’t know what we’re planning, and he doesn’t know where we are. That’s why he’s going after your team. Just like with the kidnapping report, he’s trying to flush us out. That means he’s in the dark—which is good for us.” That made a lot of sense…but it didn’t do much to make me less pissed off. From the considering look on Nataliya’s face, she knew that. “Why don’t we get out of here for a bit?” she suggested.
“What?”
She nodded. “We both could use some dinner that doesn’t come out of a vending machine or a gas station. Unless you don’t think it’s safe with my picture still out there, attached to the Amber alert?”
I considered it. Yes, it was a risk having her out in public, but probably not as big a risk as she was thinking. “Most of the pictures that have been circulated have been of Elias, not you. Since he’s not with us, we’re not driving the car that went with our description, and there haven’t been any pictures of me, I don’t think people will recognize you. The picture they used of you had your hair pulled back—if you wear it loose, I think we’ll be fine.”
And the more I thought of going out with her somewhere, the more I liked the idea. The last real meal either of us had was at Sam and Owen’s this morning before we left. “Look up what’s close?” I asked, gesturing to her laptop.
She tapped the keyboard and brought up our options, limited as they were. “Fast food,” she mumbled, scrolling down. “A few diners.” More scrolling. “And someplace just called The Grocery Store that serves food.” She glanced at me. “It has decent reviews.”
“We’ll try that then,” I said.
