Chapter Twenty

Eric

I check my watch and see that it's just after four in the morning. I look around, trying to figure out what woke me up and don't see anything out of the ordinary. Calee's breathing is soft and regular – she's in a deep sleep. And the rest of the room is silent. Still.

I sit up and check the door. Locked. It wasn't Calee and there isn't anybody else in the room – so what in the hell woke me up?

Standing in the room, I turn a slow circle, thinking that maybe it was a dream or maybe somebody walking by the window that had woken me up. I start to think that Calee's story about Raymond and the Shepherds got under my skin and is making me a little paranoid.

I think that until I hear a soft thump on the wall – on the wall in the room Calee would be sleeping in if she weren't crashed out on my bed. I move to the wall and press my ear to it. I hear muffled voices and the sound of people moving around in there. There is definitely somebody in the room I'd rented for her.

“What is it?”

I turn at the sound of her voice and find Calee sitting up, the sheet pulled up over her chest, the look of fear on her face visible even in the murky shadows of the room. I put my finger to my lips to quiet her and her eyes grow wider.

“I – is there somebody in my room?” she whispers.

I nod. “Sounds like it,” I reply in an equally hushed tone.

“How did they find us?”

I shake my head. “I don't know.”

It's a good question. How did they find her? More importantly, how did they know to look in that room specifically? There's nothing tying Calee to that room. There's a loud crash and a muffled voice cursing in frustration.

I feel the tension in me rising as I start to run through the scenarios in my head. The room is rented under my name – not hers. So, how could they have possibly known to look for her there? Was she followed? If she were followed though, they would have seen her come into this room. So, why wouldn't they be here beating down my door instead of hers?

None of it made sense to me and I ended up with a lot more questions than answers. The only thing I now know for certain is that Calee is right – Raymond isn't going to let her go. He's going to keep coming after her. Which is a problem for both of us.

The door to the room slams closed and I hear footsteps in the corridor outside my room. I look over at Calee.

“Go into the bathroom and lock the door,” I whisper.

She nods and climbs out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind her. A moment later, I hear the lock engage. It doesn't offer her much protection, but it's better than nothing. With her out of the way, I turn my attention to the door. I hear voices out in the corridor and then see a shadow in front of the window. They're standing just on the other side of the door to my room, but I can't tell if they're planning on coming in or not.

Creeping over to the couch, I kneel down on it and strain my ears to listen. It sounds like the muffled voice I'm hearing is one of the men on the phone.

She's not here, I hear him say.

There's a pause before he continues. I don't know where she is. Pause. No, her clothes and everything are still in the room. Her boots are still there too. Pause. Yeah, we'll keep looking. She can't be too far away.

Two men walk away from my room, heading down the corridor and in the direction of the office. Which means, they could very well figure out who I am and what room I'm staying in – which, of course, will lead them to Calee.

“Calee,” I call. “We need to go. Now.”

The door to the bathroom flies open and she rushes out, the light of panic in her eyes. I'm already getting dressed and gathering my things, stuffing them into my bag. It makes me glad that I never fully unpack in a hotel room. Not that I ever really imagined I'd need to make a fast getaway like this.

“Is it them?”

I nod. “We need to get your stuff and go,” I say. “It looks like they went down to the office, so it's probably not going to take them too long to figure out where you are.”

Finished packing, I grab the handle of the door and open it quietly. Sticking my head out, I look both ways and find the corridor clear.

“Okay, let's go,” I say.

She follows me out and I close the door as quietly as I can. We rush to the room next door and after dropping my bag, I take her key card from her. I open the room and step inside quickly, anticipating finding somebody there. The room is empty though.

“Get dressed and get your things,” I say. “We probably only have a few minutes.”

Desk clerks aren't supposed to give out names and room numbers for the safety of their guests. But I'm guessing that Calee's friends are persuasive. I have a feeling they're either offering money or threatening violence if they don't get the information they want. And given that people are usually either greedy or don't want to get themselves hurt, my name and room number will be in their possession pretty quickly.

“They took my money,” Calee says, her face stricken and her hand in her jacket pocket. “That's all the money I had in the world.”

“Don't worry about it,” I say. “I have plenty. Let's go.”

She rushes across the room and joins me in the hall. Down the corridor, we hear the rumbling of the elevator. It's coming up. And it's a pretty good bet it's carrying Raymond's men. I look around, feeling the tension in me rising. I see the sign for the staircase and grab Calee by the arm, ushering her toward it.

“We'll take the stairs,” I say.

I hear the chime of the elevator as I follow Calee through the door to the stairwell and can't help but take a peek back. I see two men in jeans, dark coats, and dark Stetson hats. They're big guys and look like they're straight out of central casting for cowboys – all they're missing is chaps and spurs. They have that hardened, farm-tough look about them. I like to think I'm plenty tough and decent in a scrap, but they're definitely not guys I'd be comfortable tangling with on my own.

One the guys happens to look over and I duck my head back into the stairwell, letting the door swing closed behind me. I don't know if he saw me or not, but I'm not going to take chances.

“Go,” I say. “Go, go, go.”

Calee is ahead of me, moving down the stairs quickly. It's only three flights to the bottom and we get there just as I hear one of the doors above us thrown open so hard it crashes into the wall, sending a clang echoing through the stairwell.

Throwing open the door, I lead Calee quickly through the parking lot to my rental car. I push the button on the remote that unlocks the doors and quickly open the passenger side door. I toss my bag in, grab her bag and toss that in as well. Calee jumps into the passenger seat, her eyes wide, her breathing ragged, her face a mask of fear.

“Hey, stop! Calee!”

I look up to see the two cowboys coming out of the stairwell and heading for us at a run. I run around the car and Calee had my door open for me. I jump behind the wheel, slam the key into the ignition and start the car. I look up and see the cowboys closing in on us. One of them is reaching under his jacket and in the bright lights of the parking lot, I see the shine of a weapon.

“Oh, God,” Calee cries out. “Oh, my God.”

She has her hands on the side of her head and her eyes are wide with terror. Just seeing that look of stark fear on her face does something to me. It puts a lump in my throat and a knot in my gut. And in that moment, I realize that I don't ever want to see that look on her face again.

Throwing the car in reverse, I stomp on the pedal and we shoot backward. Slamming the gear shift into drive, I hit the accelerator and the car squeals and rockets forward, leaving a trail of smoke and rubber in our wake. I take a quick look in the rear-view mirror and see the two cowboys standing there looking after us as we go.

I let out a peal of nervous laughter and Calee looks at me like I've lost my mind. I give her a smile and a shrug. She wouldn't understand it if I explained it to her. We'd escaped – just barely, but we'd escaped. The rush I feel is similar to the rushes I'd felt after a battle over in the Shit. After escaping with my life from some nasty firefight.

The rush of surviving a battle is something that's difficult to be replicated. But this came damn close. And I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that it's a rush I miss getting. While I'm not a hardcore adrenaline junkie, that kind of rush is something I enjoy. In a way, it's life-affirming.

“You okay?” I ask.

She looks over at me and nods, her face blanched. “Yeah,” she says. “You?”

I give her a smile I hope is more reassuring and less maniacal. “Yeah. I'm good.”

We drive into the night and I have no idea where we're going. I know we need to get out of Fort Collins, but I can't leave until I say goodbye to Steve. Until I can see him though, we need to find somewhere to lay low.