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Jonas stood in front of the service station, staring across the road at the long, low motel opposite. Specifically, at the chipped, faded door with the crooked number fourteen tacked to it. A string of flatbed trucks lumbered along the road, laden with construction materials and equipment, cutting off his view. He waited for them to crawl by, tapping the folded map against his thigh. Wondering if Kate had woken yet.
He wanted out of this "partnership" so badly he could taste it, dry and bitter on his tongue. Out of the partnership, out of the responsibility that came with it, and—most of all—out of the slow suffocation that came with having to rely on another human being. Even if that being was Kate.
He scuffed at the gravel shoulder. A spray of pebbles scattered across the pavement and disappeared under one of the flatbeds. Christ, he hadn't partnered with anyone in so long, he couldn't even remember how. Reported to, yes. Protocol had required him to check in regularly with Honeyman, his handler, but that was it. A discreet phone call, a brief meeting at a coffee counter, a text-messaged update. Short points of contact to reassure the agency that he still lived, or to pass on information he'd garnered. Undercover work suited him that way.
Jonas's mouth twisted. Given his reputation, he suspected it suited the agency, too. As good as he might be at his job, he knew full well he wasn't particularly popular among his colleagues. The few partners he'd had in the beginning had never lasted long, and he suspected putting him in undercover work had been his superiors' last-ditch effort to avoid more complaints about him. Fortunately, the arrangement had worked out in everyone's favor.
Until now.
The last truck passed by in a swirl of dust, and Jonas stared again at the tired door of room number fourteen. He squared his shoulders. Right. If he couldn't get out of this, they'd just have to set some ground rules up front. Kate might be a more experienced cop than he'd first thought, but the sooner they established who was in charge, the faster they'd be able to solve this mess and go their separate ways again. Alone.
The way his life was supposed to be lived.
He strode across the road.
***
Kate woke to the sound of pounding on a door. For a moment, she considered burrowing deeper under the covers to escape it. Then memories from the night before flooded back...with panic hot on their heels.
They’d been found.
She bolted upright in the motel bed. Motel. Because that’s where she and Jonas had ended up last night. In a shared room. For safety, Jonas had said, and she'd been too exhausted to argue.
“Jonas!” she hissed at the lump on the other bed, separated from hers by the width of a nightstand. The lump didn’t move. She tried again. “Jonas! Wake up—we’ve got company.”
The pounding at the door came again. The lump still didn’t respond. Kate slid out of bed and reached out to shake Jonas, but her hand met with no resistance under the mound of covers. Freaking hell...he wouldn’t have. Would he?
Her gaze flicked toward the bathroom, but the door stood open, the room within dark. Cold slivered through her belly. Jonas was gone. She didn’t want to believe it, but the cold covers and empty room spoke for themselves. He’d left. Taken off the first chance he’d had, just as he’d wanted to do all along, without so much as a word to her.
She wondered what had finally triggered him to run: that abhorrence of help he seemed to have, or the overzealous sense of responsibility that had him believing she’d be better off without him?
More pounding. Whoever was out there wasn’t giving up. Panic born of sleep deprivation welled in Kate’s chest. She took a deep breath, counted to three, and re-engaged her brain. Right, so there were two possibilities here. One, it was the local police at the door, in which case, she’d be okay. Probably going to prison, but at least she’d be alive.
The second possibility was that it was Jonas’s pursuers out there, in which case...panic welled again. Freaking hell, she was going to have to hold them off until the locals came.
Whatever reasons Jonas had decided he might have, he’d chosen a lousy time to bolt.
Grimly, Kate picked up Dave's gun from the night table and checked its clip. Light glinted off the bullets nestled within. She shoved the clip back into place and then, on silent feet, padded across the carpet to the door. If there'd ever been the slightest question about her taking up a life of crime, this time with Jonas would have made her decide unequivocally against the possibility. Her nerves wouldn't stand the pressure.
Except she’d already taken up that life, hadn’t she?
Hell.
Holding her breath, she put her eye to the peephole on the door. A distorted image of Jonas filled her view, his fist raised. Kate’s jaw dropped, and she wrenched open the door as his hand descended.
"Will you be quiet!" she growled. "You're making enough noise to wake the dead!"
Jonas lowered his hand. "I forgot my key."
She waffled between annoyance and sheer, overwhelming relief that he hadn’t deserted her after all. Before she could decide on a reaction, his gaze dropped to the sweatshirt she wore, making her suddenly and acutely aware that the bottom of the garment barely brushed the tops of her thighs. Heat climbed into her cheeks.
Jonas’s gaze returned to hers. "Sorry," he said.
For what? Forgetting the key? Or staring at her like that and waking the unwanted fire in her belly again? Kate turned and stalked across the room to the jeans she'd left on a chair. She set down the gun and, with her back to Jonas, slid one leg at a time into the garment, ignoring the click of the door. The overhead light came on, dispelling the room’s dimness.
“I thought you might have decided to take off,” she said.
He didn’t answer, and Kate’s lips tightened. So. He’d considered it again, had he? Color her unsurprised.
"Where did you go?" she tried again as she did up the zipper and snap. "And what happened to safety in numbers?"
"You were sleeping." He'd closed the door and leaned against it. His powerful, navy T-shirt-clad shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“You could have woken me.”
"I needed to think."
"We stick together, Jonas. That's the deal." She held aside a curtain and peered out at the parking lot. If he'd been spotted—
"No one's there," Jonas said. "I made sure."
She let the curtain drop into place and reached for her socks. "So what were you thinking about?"
"What's next. Where we go from here."
"That’s something we should discuss togeth—"
"No,” he cut her off. “It's not."
Balanced on one foot, Kate raised an eyebrow, studying him. The grim jawline, the rigid shoulders, the crossed arms with hands fisted. "You have some kind of bee in your bonnet this morning. What's going on?"
His jawline took on an even more belligerent set. "I don't work well with a partner, so—"
"No shit," she muttered. Socks on, she straightened up.
Jonas's scowl deepened. "So," he repeated, "we need to set some ground rules before we go any further."
This time, both of Kate’s eyebrows rose. “Ground rules. Such as...?"
"Such as who's in charge."
She didn’t even try to hold back the snort. "You seem a little unclear on the concept of partners, Agent Burke. We're in this together, remember?"
"And it's my intention to get you safely out of it."
"Oh, for—" She broke off, rolling her eyes. "You can't seriously still think I'm not capable of holding my own. Not after yesterday."
His gaze flicked away from hers. "You're more experienced than I thought," he allowed, "but—"
"But what? Finding us transportation and getting us safely out of a high-speed chase wasn't enough to convince you I'm up to the challenge?"
"That's not the point." The blue eyes snapped back to glare at her. "I know the people we're up against, Kate. You don't. When it comes down to it, I need to know you'll do what I say when I say it. Without argument. I need to know you trust me."
"And I need to know you trust me." She returned his glower. "See? Already we're thinking alike. Because partners."
"Damn it, Kate, it's not that I won't consider your input, but we're going to be in my territory, gunning for people I work with. I need to be the one calling the shots."
Consider her input? He had to be kidding.
"Fine," she snapped. "Then let's start with how you plan to get us out of the country into your territory to begin with."
"I don't know yet. I'm still considering the options. We’ll have to be..." He trailed off as she crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and curled her sock-footed toes into the carpet. "Let me guess. You have an answer, don't you?"
“I might.”
“Well? Are you planning to share it or not?”
“Partners, Jonas.”
Thunder settled over the dark brow. Kate met his stare without flinching—and, she hoped, without revealing the turmoil in her gut. Was she pushing too hard? Too fast? Jonas wasn’t the kind of man to tolerate being cornered like this. What if he—
"Fine,” he growled. “You win. Partners. For now."
Kate swallowed a tart observation about how much it must have hurt for him to give in. That really would be pushing her luck. “Good," she said, keeping her tone mild.
"Good," he echoed, not quite as mildly. "There's a restaurant next door to the motel office. You can tell me your idea over breakfast."
Turning his back on their fledgling agreement, he pulled open the door and stalked outside. Kate sighed, slid her feet into her running shoes, scanned the room a final time to be sure she had everything, and slipped Dave's gun into the waistband of her jeans under her sweatshirt. Then she followed in Jonas's wake.
Baby steps, she told herself as she locked the door and pocketed the key. It was at least a start.