Years of trained instinct took over. I dodged through the shadows with the girl close to my side, my ears tuned into every sound behind us. At any moment, the leader of this gang would realize she had escaped out the back. We needed to be out of their line of sight before that happened, and my motel room was the only place nearby for us to hide.

If they knew she’d run this way, they would certainly check the motel for any sign of her. Because as far as I’d been able to tell, there wasn’t anywhere else she could hide on this long stretch of empty road. If that bartender snitched, they’d know she left with some outsider. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out where she’d gone.

When I got her inside the motel, I sat her down on the twin bed covered in a seventies-style bedspread, brown and puke yellow swirls faded from years of use. She shivered and hugged her arms tight to her chest, and I disappeared into the bathroom to find a clean towel. My mind whirred the entire time. We had to get her out of here. Where to? Hell if I knew. First, I needed to have a better idea of what we were facing. Who were these guys? What did they want? What kind of skills and weapons did they have? My mind ticked through the essential questions that had been drilled in my head over the years of training, a logical checklist that drowned out any panic.

After I draped the towel across her shoulders, I turned the heat up a few more notches. The poor girl still shivered like she was stuck in a freezer. Leaning against the wall, I crossed my arms and waited, but the tempo of my heart didn’t slow. I forced myself not to pull back the thin gauzy curtain and peek outside. As long as I was calm, maybe she would be, too.

After several moments, I finally had to speak up. “Who the hell was that guy?”

“Scooter is my ex-husband,” she whispered, staring hard at the stained carpet.

“Your ex-hus—? Shit.” Frowning, I dragged my hand down my face. That wasn’t at all what I had expected. “Then, who were those guys with him, and why are they chasing you?”

Finally, she looked up at me and met my eyes. They were glazed over by a film of water, as if she was on the verge of tears. Double shit. I couldn’t handle a woman in tears. It made it impossible to think straight.

“It’s a very long story,” she said quietly. “What’s your name?”

Frowning, I scratched at my face. Out of all the questions she could have asked, she’d gone for one of the hardest. My name had gone through half a dozen iterations over the years, and I wasn’t entirely sure how long I’d be keeping my most recent one, but it seemed like the best option to go with for now.

“Franklin,” I said. “And you?”

“Rosie Smith,” she said. “Thanks for what you did back there, Franklin. As soon as they’ve left the bar, I’ll get out of your hair.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as that, Rosie.”

The name felt nice on my tongue, and it fit the girl who sat before me. It was sweet and soft with a hint of innocence to it. I found my eyes wandering down her neck. She had a perfect set of curves underneath her wet clothes, and my entire body yearned to wrap my arms around her to stop the shivering she still couldn’t shake.

Dammit, I thought to myself. Don’t let your mind go there. Not now.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, voice hitching and eyes wide.

Triple shit. This girl was in way over her head if she didn’t realize they weren’t going to go away that easy.

“How sure are you that the bartender—Jimmy was it?”

She nodded. “Jimmy Marlow. We went to high school together.”

Right. That was interesting, though I shouldn’t have been too surprised. This was some local issue, something that must go back for years. Maybe it wasn’t as serious as it looked after all. Ex-husbands, high school friends. Compared to what I’d dealt with in my past, this would be a walk in the park.

“What’s the likelihood that Jimmy Marlow will tell your ex-husband you went out the back door with a man who doesn’t live around here?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Jimmy and I go way back, but so does he and Scooter. Well, they aren’t exactly friends, but there’s history there…”

“So he might tell him. The only logical place for them to check is here, Rosie,” I said. “I’ve got a car parked out front. We need to leave.”

She hugged the towel around her body and shivered even harder. “We?”

“Yes, we. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I’m not going to abandon you when you clearly need my help,” I said.

She stared up at me, lips parted. Dammit, she was still cold. Her thin cotton tank top was soaked through, and her arms were pebbled with goosebumps. Why the hell had she been stumbling around out here, in the middle of nowhere, dressed like she was going to the beach?

A heavy pounding sounded at the door, and Rosie jumped up from the bed, her eyes wild, her cheeks flushed. I took a long stride toward her and pointed at the bathroom silently. She nodded and scurried into the room, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.

“Open up!” shouted that same voice I’d heard when we were leaving the bar. That asshole she was running from. Scooter was his name.

I glanced down at my own soaked shirt and pulled it over my head, exchanging it for a clean dry t-shirt from my open suitcase at the foot of the bed. With a deep breath, I steeled myself and opened the door.

The man looking back at me was holding his fist in the air, clearly about to hammer on the door again. His face was red and covered in a thick scruff, a baseball cap pulled down tight over his sandy hair. He wore an orange Tennessee Vols sweatshirt, low-slung jeans, and a thick pair of work boots. Despite his menacing glare and his height that rivalled my own, he looked pretty harmless. But there was one important thing I’d learned over the years. The harmless-looking assholes were the worst.

“What’s all this about?” I asked, edging sideways so that he couldn’t see into the room. Even though Rosie was safely hidden in the bathroom, I didn’t want him to get the slightest of glances inside.

“I’m looking for a girl,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he tried to crane his head around my body. “Rosie Smith. You seen her?”

“I’m just passing through,” I said slowly. “I don’t know anyone who lives in town or anyone named Rosie Smith.”

“You been over there to that bar next door?” He jerked his thumb toward Bear’s Bar, and I glanced at the building, putting on my best confused yet thoughtful expression. As I leaned sideways, he took the opportunity to do a quick gaze of my room, and his lips twitched when his eyes landed on my bed.

“I’ve not been there, no. Like I said, I’m just passing through.” I started to close the door, but he stuck out his boot to block it.

“There’s a wet spot there on your bed,” he said, his eyes glittering with something sharp and dangerous. “Looks like your hair’s wet, too. You been running around out in the rain?”

“None of your damn business. Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re after, but it’s not here.” I crossed my arms and kicked his boot out of the way before slamming the door in his damn face. I flicked the lock shut and closed my eyes, breathing through my tense anger. It had taken all my control not to pummel the guy right then and there. He was an asshole. No man worth his salt went chasing down a woman like this. It just wasn’t right.

And after seeing the look in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon. I had to get her out of here.