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“I thought you were out,” Maria said, glancing at him.
She still wore a tight expression, and in the glow of the dashboard, she looked ghostly pale.
“I wish,” he said, wincing as he tried to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, no position was actually comfortable.
“I’m going to find us a motel. I’ve got my wallet, keys, two burners, and a little bit of cash. We can contact Jake when we get there, rest for a while, and regroup.”
“So the del Fuegos?” he asked, opting to address the elephant in the room head on.
Maria sighed. “I know. But we needed an untraceable car quickly. Jake is pretty sure Ivanovich found us by hacking into the FBI’s dispatch system, which tracks every vehicle they have. For all we know, he’s also monitoring TSI personnel, vehicles, whatever.”
She paused and glanced quickly at him before returning her attention to the road. “Stealing the Buick saved our lives, and don’t worry, I’m still going to ask about that, but Ivanovich got the plates on it for sure, and the cops will have them by morning when the owner reports it stolen. Esteban del Fuego was the only one I could think of who could get us a clean car and make the other one disappear.”
“You heard his thug, right? You’re gonna owe him,” Teag said, concerned about exactly what that might mean.
“Let me worry about that.”
Teag made an indeterminate grunt, conveying he’d heard her but didn’t really like what she’d said. He didn’t have the energy to argue about it, though.
About fifteen minutes later, she pulled into a roadside motel.
“I need to borrow that,” she said, pointing at him. She carefully peeled her bloody sweatshirt off with a wince. “Can’t have the night manager asking questions.”
Teag obligingly, and just as cautiously, maneuvered his relatively clean sweatshirt over his head and handed it to her. He caught a glimpse of her arm, and it looked like the bleeding had slowed. Hopefully, it really was only a flesh wound.
“We’re quite the pair,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’ll be back in ten. Hang tight.”
“Not going anywhere,” he mumbled.
She was back in five, and they pulled around to the back of the motel. When she opened the trunk, she gave Teag a weary smile.
“Bottles of water and energy bars,” she said.
“A cartel boss with heart,” Teag responded snidely.
“Well, good for us because our go-bags are still at the safehouse.” When they’d had to jump out the window and run, their bags hadn’t made it along.
Maria handed him the first aid kit, lifted the grocery bag of food supplies with her good arm, and slammed the trunk. Wearily, they made their way inside the run-down motel room. Despite the threadbare flowered quilt and the lumpy pillows, the bed called to him like a homing beacon. But first he wanted to have a look at Maria’s arm.
He dumped the first aid kit onto the bed. After sorting through the bandages and locating a small bottle of antiseptic wash, he sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him.
“Come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Drink this first,” she said, handing him a bottle of water.
He chugged the water, groaning with relief as the cool liquid coated his parched throat. Then he set to work cleaning Maria’s wound.
He hated the way she hissed in pain when he dabbed on the antiseptic, and how pale her skin looked. He glanced at her face, pinched tight with pain. “Sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t shoot me.”
The salty comeback made him grin. “There’s my girl.”
She closed her eyes and tried to grin back. It came out looking more like a grimace.
“You really need stitches, but I’ll do my best with the Steri-Strips.”
