Chapter Forty-Seven

Rory woke to the sound of raised voices in the motel room beside theirs and blinked at the shadowy ceiling overhead.

The majority of his night had been spent dozing lightly, especially when Nina had turned over in her sleep and curled herself around him. He had tried to get out from under her but had finally given up and just held her.

He shot up straight at the realization that she wasn’t in the bed with him.

“Nina?”

She wasn’t in the room, nor in the bathroom, and he swore as he rolled out of bed and stabbed his feet into his trousers. “For fuck’s sake. Now what?”

He couldn’t believe she had done it to him again. They had moved past this stage, dammit. He didn’t understand how she had managed it, either. The least little sound had woken him throughout the night, and yet she had somehow managed to leave the room. Again.

Anger flared brightly. But he quickly got himself under control, and focused on what do next.

Still buttoning his shirt, he left the room and made for the elevator. Moments later he was downstairs in the reception area, striding toward the exit.

“Mr. Williams?”

He spun on his heel to face the receptionist who had checked them in the day before. She looked hesitant, worried even. Her eyes wide, she was clearly taken aback by his fierce expression.

“Yes?” he said, looking past her to check the busy restaurant area for Nina. She wasn’t there.

“Your wife asked me to tell you that she had to leave. It was an emergency, she said.”

“What?” He whipped back to the nervous woman and tried for a reassuring smile. “When did she leave?”

“Twenty minutes ago, at most. She was on the house phone there for a bit, then asked me to relay the message to you. She left right afterward.”

Holding back a fierce oath, he glanced at the phone, set on a side table by the wall. Trying redial clearly had no use.

He cast another glance at the worried looking receptionist as he quickly went over his options. What the hell was Nina up to now?

“Is something wrong, sir?” the young receptionist asked tensely.

“No. Everything’s fine,” he ground out, struggling with his temper. At last he asked, “Was she alone?”

“Your wife?”

“Yes. My wife. Was she alone when she left?” What if Creed had somehow gotten to her? A cold fist of fear tightened in his gut.

A nervous nod confirmed that at least the worst hadn’t happened, leaving open a variety of possibilities on her reasons for skipping out on him.

He was going to kill her.

But first he had to find her.

Mumbling a brusque thank you to the receptionist, he stalked outside. When he reached the car, he took out his cell phone and dialed the admiral.

Creighton answered on the first ring.

“Hernandez gave me the slip, sir.”

A series of curses came across the line before the admiral asked what Rory needed.

“Can you trace a call that was made sometime in the past twenty minutes from this number?” He recited the hotel’s phone number from memory and just hoped it was possible to drill down to the actual number from the hotel switchboard.

“I’ll get the techs right on it.”

As they hung up, Rory clamped his jaw in anger. What the hell was Nina thinking? If Creed got to her—

He cut off the thought and reformulated. The idea of Lena and Creed having a bloody face-off somewhere was not something he wanted to linger on. Or the collateral damage, if it happened in a populated area.

But there wasn’t anything he could do now except wait for the admiral to get back to him.

When fifteen minutes later his cell phone shrilled, he swiped it up and barked impatiently, “Anything?”

The admiral rattled off an address in Memphis. A two-hour drive, at least.

“I’m on it.” He disconnected and tore out of the parking lot.