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“Black, this is McCabe,” Sean spoke into his phone. “Yes, sir. The reason I’m calling is we’re looking for Strange. We think he might be in trouble. He did?”
Erica wished she could hear both sides of the conversation. She held her breath as Sean continued talking to the man on the other end of the call.
Sean took out a pen and wrote down some information.
A clue? Would it lead to Dylan? She prayed it would.
“Thank you, sir. We’ll handle it from here.” Sean clicked the phone off. “Dylan is in Goodnight at a motel.”
* * * *
Dylan looked up at the ceiling, his sunglasses still on. Sleep wasn’t coming tonight, not without Jack Daniel’s, which was on the nightstand with every ounce still intact. Black was supposed to call him in the morning about his reassignment. His old boss had told him that some strings would have to be pulled and some favors would have to be called in to get Dylan reinstated. Black was ready to do whatever necessary to make that happen.
What if the brass at the Agency didn’t let Black reinstate him? What then? He had no clue.
He heard a car pull up to one of the parking spaces outside his room’s door. He sat up and brought out his gun. Old habits died hard. Whoever was outside had nothing to do with him. He was a ghost again. He knew Black would succeed. Tomorrow he would be back at the Agency.
Footsteps.
He aimed the gun at the door.
Three hard knocks got him to his feet and into the darkest corner, his back to the wall. He crouched down.
“Dylan, it’s me.” His brother’s voice was unmistakable. “Let us in.”
Us?
Had Cam brought Erica with him after what had happened at Lover’s Beach? She’d screamed because of him. What the hell was Cam thinking? How had they found him?
Screams were something Dylan had heard many times, but that one, the one from her gorgeous lips, had completely flattened him.
“Please, Dylan,” Erica’s voice came through, reaching into him, breaking his heart. “Please let us in.”
Do the right thing, Agent. Don’t answer her. Black is calling tomorrow. She and Cam have a chance at a real life, a happy life, if I can keep my mouth shut.
“Cut the crap, Dylan,” Cam said. “We know you’re in there.”
It took all his strength and determination to remain silent. They had to leave eventually. When they did, he would crack open the whiskey bottle and drown away his agony.
The next knocks he heard came from her delicate hands. “I need to talk to you. Please. Open the door.”
Hearing Erica’s sweet plea caused his willpower to melt into a puddle. With his sunglasses still on, he holstered his gun and walked to the door. Taking a deep breath, he opened it.
She rushed in and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re safe. Thank God. Even after Sean told me about your call to Black, I wasn’t sure we’d find you.”
Black had given up his location? Why? That would be a question for tomorrow.
He couldn’t help himself, pulling her in tight to him. “I didn’t expect you to come looking. Not after what happened.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “This is all my fault, Dylan. I’m the one to blame. I’m so sorry.”
He cupped her chin. “Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Cam said. “But you left before you could find out why she reacted the way she did.”
She needed to understand. He had to make her understand. “I had to leave. I’m the cause of this.” He turned to Cam. His brother needed to understand, too. “I told you I would fuck this up. She needs you. You need each other. You can build a life together. A happy life. I’m only in the way.”
“Why don’t you just shut up, Dylan, and hear what she has to say? Then you can run away if you must, but not until.”
