Chapter Thirty-One

“Early this morning, the bodies of two local gang members were discovered at the Driver’s motel outside Black Diamond,” a news reporter was saying on the tiny television above the diner’s bar.

Passing through a small town in the Ozarks around noon, Rory and Nina had decided to stop for lunch.

“The police suspect that two rival gangs were—”

Rory stopped listening to the report and turned his attention to the door that led to the ladies’ restroom in the back of the diner. Lena had disappeared through it a little over ten minutes ago and seemed in no hurry to return. What was taking her so damn long? There were urgent things to discuss, and she damn well knew it.

The most pressing thing was also the most obvious. How the hell was Creed tracking them? It made no sense.

Rory was certain no one was following them. He’d done every evasive maneuver in the book as they’d travelled from New Mexico. Lena had done the driving today, and she could give a professional racecar driver a run for his money.

The only thing that made sense was a tracking device of some kind. But that was impossible. They had Clementine’s car. Rory’s phone was new, acquired solely for this assignment, and had never left his possession. He’d even checked all their clothes for hidden transmitters.

Nothing.

It had to be something else. Somehow, Creed had found them and was managing to stay right on their tail. But how? Creed had an incredibly high IQ, but he was not a fucking psychic.

Rory scowled. What was he missing?

And what did Creed want with Nina? Why the deadly games? Why target Rory for murder, and not Nina? Clearly, Creed didn’t want her dead. Rory had no doubt the man would enjoy killing her. Creed thrived on mayhem and murder and would not shy away from killing a woman. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d taken out the doctor. To do that, he must, at some point, have had a visual on Nina, which was more than a little disconcerting. Why hadn’t he taken her then?

Why kill people she had come in contact with instead of just grabbing her? If Creed could send assassins, he could just as easily send kidnappers. Or grab her himself. He had the training.

Did he just want to mess with her head? Scare her?

Knowing Nina, or in this case Lena, the way Rory now did, he didn’t think Creed would manage to do more than just piss her off.

The question remained. Why?

It made no sense.

Sure, Creed had all the character traits of a full-blown sociopath. Rory knew he had once tried to murder one of his lovers, Morgan McCabe, just because he’d felt like it. The guy was certifiable.

A crashing sound had Rory looking up in alarm. One of the waitresses had just dropped her tray. The typically fifties-style of the diner with its red, faux-leather seats, white Formica tables, and bright lights made Rory feel out of place and exposed. But that probably had little to do with the establishment.

That Creed was following Nina after he had already found her in Prima Vista months ago kept ghosting through his mind. Had he been planning something with Nina, and Rory’s rescue of her ruined those plans?

It might explain why Creed wanted him dead.

A movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention. Nina strode out, and it took him all of three seconds to recognize that a new identity had taken over.

She didn’t just walk now, she glided. Where her shoulders had been either tense or relaxed, they were now drawn back to make the most of her cleavage. Her hips swayed sensuously in the age-old way designed to draw attention from the opposite sex. Her trousers, riding low on her hipbones, revealed the pink lace of her panties. The indentation of her belly button peeked from under her loose-fitting, gauzy top. She’d combed her hair and fluffed it up artfully. Makeup and jingling earrings complemented her appearance.

She looked downright sexy… And too flashy for a casual establishment like this. Already, she was drawing appreciative male glances from all around.

Rory didn’t like those looks. And he grudgingly admitted the dislike had little to do with their need to stay inconspicuous, and everything to do with male possessiveness.

Down, boy.

Riveted by her sinuous approach, he went through the short list of identities that would fit this new alter and quickly settled on the obvious one.

Thyra Gonzales. The exotic dancer.

Looking for confirmation of his assumption, he said, “Hello, Thyra.”

“Well, hello there, sugah,” she drawled, her eyes glittering delight at being recognized. A syrupy Mississippi accent made her voice musically sweet. She struck an attractive pose on the thigh-high stool beside him, her movements languid and provocative in every way. Obviously reveling in the effect she was having on the men around her, she winked at a beefy truck driver who was left gawping at her, open-mouthed.

She looked pointedly at the meal in front of Rory. “Ooh, fries. I love fries, thank you so much.” She plucked up his plate and set it in front of her. Daintily, she picked a fry and chewed it with flirty pleasure. How the hell she managed to make eating French fries look like an X-rated movie, he wasn’t entirely sure. He could only stare, much to his chagrin.

The woman never ceased to amaze him. The change in personality was, once again, remarkable in its entirety. Not a hint of the sarcastic and strident Lena remained, leaving behind this insouciant, sexual creature batting her lashes at him.

“What do you say to you and me going shopping, sugah?” Her eyes glinted. “I sure could use a proper wardrobe, if you get my meaning. I don’t know where Octavia dug this outfit up, but it is a tad too…homey for me.”

Homey? Rory gave her an involuntary once-over, which had been her intention, he suspected. It took him a moment to shake the distracting image she presented, was annoyed how she’d so easily managed to disturb his equilibrium and make him completely forget what he’d planned to ask her.

He bit back a curse. Rather than snap at her, he pointed at the TV screen, where the front of the motel where they’d spent the night was being shown.

“Is this the news?” she asked saucily, leaning in to almost touch her lips to his cheek. “I don’t watch news, sugah. It’s just so depressing.”

Her hot breath brushed tantalizingly across his ear. He gave a slight shake of his head to fight the effect and retreated enough to catch her pretty frown.

“Sweetie?” With a smile, she turned to a passing waitress in a pink uniform. “I sure would like a strawberry milkshake. Thank you!”

Smiling gamely back, the girl rushed off to get the order.

“Those were the guys we tied up this morning. Remember? They’re dead now.”

Her eyes slipped back to the television. Pouting, she looked at the flashing images. “How awful,” she said without inflection. Distractedly, she dug a pack of cigarettes from her purse and scowled. “Damn. Got any menthols?”

“We’ve got a serious problem here.” He was too out of sorts to put up with her deliberate avoidance of the issue. “It’s obvious we’ve got Creed on our tail. We have to figure out a way to get rid of him.”

“Why would we want to do that?” she asked, but her attention was already elsewhere. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Their waitress placed a large milkshake in front of her and left them to it.

He closed his eyes, prayed for patience, and held on to it with sheer willpower. He opened them and glowered at the TV.

Damn, what was he not seeing?

“Thyra.” He refused to look at her, holding his temper firmly in check. “Please. Try to think for a moment. What does he want with you?”

She batted her lashes. “Who knows why men always want me?

Rory fought the urge to slam his head on the counter repeatedly. “Is he following you to find Morgan, do you think?”

“Why would he think I could lead him to her?” Oblivious to his mounting frustration, she made a derisive noise. “What would he want with this Morgan person, anyway?”

Unfortunately, any number of things. All of which would, no doubt, lead to Morgan and Nina both being dead.

“Got any ideas about what he does want, then?” Rory asked.

“Not really.” She dabbed at her brightly painted lips with a paper napkin. “So. Where to now? I love road trips.”