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The rough-looking men loitering outside glance my way again when I slam the door, and I make sure they get a good long look at the pistol at the small of my back and the double holsters under my arms as I pull my jacket on. I hope that the weapons, coupled with my intimidating size, convey the message that I am the toughest son of a bitch here at this moment. Multiple pairs of eyes drop to the ground as I walk past, so apparently they got the point. For the moment, anyway.
A single bare bulb lights the lobby, and I’m actually grateful that it’s dark in here. I’ve been in some pretty rough places over the years, but this one might just take the cake. The carpet is an avocado green shag left over from when this was probably a decent place to stay. It’s filthy, as are the walls. They used to be white, I’m sure, but now are yellowed from years of tobacco smoke and God knows what else.
There is an old man working at the desk whose appearance is at complete odds with the shabby, filthy decor. Where everything around him is dirty and worn, this man sits ramrod straight at his post behind the high counter in a starched white shirt and a tie.
“Good evening, sir,” he says, and I can see his ears turning pink even in the bad lighting. He’s ashamed to be working in this establishment. “Can I be of some assistance to you?”
“I’m looking for someone. A young lady.” He nods encouragingly so I cut right to the heart of things.“She may be registered as either Faye Cooper or Francesca Andrews.”
“Little gal?” he asks, gesturing with his hands. “Reddish hair?” I nod, encouraging him to continue. “Oh! I’m glad her man is here for her. This isn’t a good place for her to be.” He glances out the window, shaking his head in disgust. “Ain’t a good place for anyone to be.” He mutters the last bit more to himself than me as he slides a key across the desk. “Room 104. Down at the end. I put her there ‘cause I can see it through the window. In case I needed to call the cops. They,” he points toward the group of men loitering outside what I now know is Faye’s room, “saw her check in. I’ve been waiting for them to make some kind of move to get her to open the door.”
I feel the growl vibrating in my chest before I hear it, and the clerk jumps a little, his eyes widening. “Just leave the key in the room. Someone will get it in the morning.”
Reaching a hand across the counter, I shake his hand and murmur my thanks as I slip him my business card and a hundred-dollar bill.
“If you decide you want a new line of work, feel free to call my offices. I’m sure there is something we can find for you,” I say, and when his worn face creases in a happy smile I know I did the right thing.
As I approach room 104 I sense a couple of the thugs sneaking up behind me. I slip my hand under my jacket and bring out one of my Sig Sauer P320s and let it come to rest by my thigh. The silent threat, coupled with my size, causes them to fall back. I hear angry whispering, but I don’t spare them a glance as I slip the key in the lock and push the door open. I step inside, closing it and locking it behind me before anyone can attempt to force their way in behind me.
Faint light from the bathroom casts the small room in shadow, but I can see her there. She is curled around a pillow on top of the bed in a tattered USMC sweatshirt I remember leaving in my closet when I left for boot camp.
She is tiny. I don’t know why I’m stunned by her diminutive size, but I am. I feel like there is a fist twisting my heart in my chest, and my lungs won’t draw a full breath. Seeing her alive and whole is overwhelming, but seeing her tiny body enveloped in something of mine breaks something loose inside of me. Something I have never felt for anyone before. Something completely new, that replaces everything I ever felt for her in one shocking moment. I can hardly breathe.
Of all the things she could have worn to bolt, she chose my old hoodie. Her
keys, still in my pocket, on a Marine Corps keychain like wives and girlfriends sometimes have. She didn’t forget about me. She’s been waiting for me to find her.
I move the chair from the desk in the corner so that it is under the knob as an additional precaution. It will ensure that it’s more difficult for someone to force their way in, and since I'm not sure how Faye is going to react to me being in her room in the dark it will keep her from running out the door and into the trouble waiting outside.
Slipping my jacket off, I set it on the scarred desk and disarm myself before sitting on the edge of the lumpy mattress.
I just need to look at her for a minute.
She is exhausted. Her complexion is wan. Dark shadows bruise the fragile skin under her eyes, and the sweatshirt drapes over the sharp bones of her hips and shoulders. She hasn’t had enough to eat or enough sleep in God knows how long. Maybe since the day Brad and Claire died.
The ease with which she made the decision to run, to fight to get away from Blake, tells a story of its own.
That ends tonight.
There will be no more fear. No more running. No more turning her beautiful hair this awful muddy brownish red color. I find it offensive that she has had to hide something that is so much a part of who she is.
Softly I run my fingers through her silky tresses, barely touching them. She stirs, murmuring wordlessly as she presses the cool flesh of her cheek against the rough heat of my palm. My heart stutters at the rightness of feeling her cuddling into me.
“Travis,” she whispers with a sigh as she hugs the pillow closer to her and curls herself a bit tighter around it.
My heart breaks while expanding at the same time.
“I'm here, Sweetpea ,” I whisper, tears burning in my eyes as I lean toward her. I thought for a moment she might be awake, but when she whispers again—“Travis? Where are you?”—the distress in her voice is palpable even though she is clearly still asleep.
How many times has she searched for me in her dreams?
I want her to know that I’m here, but I don’t want to interrupt her rest, so, kicking off my shoes, I lay down beside her and pull her into my arms. I’m surprised when she doesn't wake up but rather cuddles closer, murmuring before she sighs and settles back into the stillness of slumber. I didn’t see this coming. Not at all, but she needs to rest and right now I just need to hold her and know that she is safe with me. At last.
Faye
I’m dreaming. I must be. Something woke me up.
I was dreaming that Travis had found me.
