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“Empty notebooks are the most fun to pick up anyway,” she commented. At least, she had a tendency to get about fifteen pages into a notebook before losing interest in the project she was working on, or misplacing the journal. And when it was time to start a new project, it was always more fun to use a new notebook, right?
Will nodded an agreement, then turned back to his desk.
“Do you have a pen?” she asked, timidly.
Will’s motions stilled again, and Hannah wondered if she was already irritating him.
He reached for something and slowly walked toward the bed. His eyes never left her, and her heart rate kicked up.
She looked up at him. He towered over her as she reclined on the pillows, and his gray-blue eyes were full of an emotion she couldn’t place. Her mouth fell open, but she didn’t have any words. Was he going to yell at her? Scold her for interrupting? Kiss her?
A moment later, when the silence had nearly done her in, a pen appeared in his hand, gently extended to her.
She swallowed thickly. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said, the lilt of his southern drawl making her bones soften so she nearly melted into the pillows behind her.
She knew this man was dangerous. After all, she’d seen the guns and the way he carried himself. Whoever Will Gilbert was chasing didn’t stand a chance.
Perhaps she’d underestimated how dangerous he might be to her heart. He seemed completely unaware of the power he held in a smile or a kind word. She was all too needy. Too starved for attention and approval that she longed to do whatever it took to get him to throw another kind word her way. To call her sweetheart with a dimple in one cheek.
Will Gilbert was definitely dangerous.
Part of her was loving every minute of it.
The other part was supremely worried about what it would feel like when those dreamy blue eyes flashed with anger in her direction and his dimples disappeared into a disappointed glare. She shouldn’t care about what he thought about her. He didn’t know her or her life, and if he chose to judge her, then that was on him.
She flipped open the notebook he’d given her, her curiosity flaring at the remnants of the page he’d ripped out. She ran a finger over the page below it, briefly wondering if she could play detective and manage to reveal the impressions. The thought made her think of the Nancy Drew mysteries she’d read as a child.
Instead, she flipped the page and saw his other notes. Nothing conspicuous. Numbers and phrases that meant little to her.Joey @ Zia: Thursdaywas written on one page in neat block letters. Was that Zia Pharmaceuticals?
“Gilbert.”
She jerked her eyes away from the paper to find Will with his phone to his ear.
“How the hell did they find us?” Will sounded angry, but Hannah was immediately struck with fear.
He could only be talking about one thing—the killer.
Hannah jumped up, tossing the notebook in her bag and putting on her shoes. Whatever Will told her to do next, she was going to be ready.
“No, no. I’ll handle it. Tell Agent Roscoe to buy me ten minutes.”
He was already packing things away when he hung up the phone, pausing just long enough to dial another number as Hannah watched in fear.
“Tank, where are you guys? We’ve got to move. A fibbie strike team is heading our way.” He paused a beat, glancing back at Hannah. She saw a hint of approval in his eyes when he saw she was ready. She saw that he was trying to pack away all the various computers and tools that were laid out on the small motel desk, so she began to pull cords and throw them in with the nearby cases while trying to listen to Will’s side of the conversation.
A few moments later, he hung up the phone. He shut the hard plastic case with a slam and turned back toward the room.
“Take your bag and grab as much as you can carry.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows at the order but did what he said. She tucked a few smaller items from the desk inside and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Then she grabbed a duffel bag from the foot of the bed, grunting slightly at the unexpected weight.
“Here.” Will gave her a lighter bag and took the duffel then opened the door. “Leave the rest.”
Will’s inexplicable calm in the face of whatever strike team was headed there was the only thing keeping her grounded. Otherwise, she was quite sure that the panic would set in and she’d simply stand still and wait for the inevitable.
But not Will. He ushered her to the end of the building. Behind the dumpster, Will paused, pulling a large black trash bag from somewhere she didn’t see and tossed the heaviest equipment inside.
