>ROAD TO CHARLESTON
>6 MILES TO MOTEL 6
>1200HRS...///

“Nobody impedes our progress.” Donnelley’s Texan was running through his speech like a bronco as he push-checked his .40 cal and placed it in his lap, “Jason, you stay put. Just survey the scene and let us know if anybody seems off.”

“Laine, we’ll go in there, grab him. We’re out and away quick as we can make it. We only interview him at the Safehouse.” Donnelley nudged her as she drove, giving a smile at Jason through the rear view, “Gettin’ fun now, ain’t it?”

Laine pulled out of the tavern parking lot, glancing at Donnelley as she turned onto the street. "He said he thought someone might be watching him, and I wouldn't doubt it."

She caught his smile and felt a reluctant grin tug at the corners of her mouth, "You're enjoying this too much."

Donnelley’s eyes tracked a lone billboard as it passed, a weatherworn and rusty-cornered thing, ‘Remember God Loves You.’

“Just a good feelin’ gettin’ out the office. Couple friends, some guns, some danger.” He flashed a wicked grin and shoved a cigarette into it, lighting up to savor the moment, “This life’s good sometimes.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Jason returned Donnelley’s smirk from the backseat. The sound of his handgun’s slide being racked and the business in his eyes told Donnelley the man was ready for anything.

The Explorer rolled out towards the edge of town, passing the weathered birdshit streaked sign that marked the end of Whitetree and entering Blackriver County. They headed south along the highway, passing the occasional peeling billboard set against the rolling green mountains advertising the next Dairy Queen or Chevron gas stations. They passed a lone billboard, Motel 8 exit 63 in five miles. Laine glanced at it, sixty bucks a night on a lumpy suspicious mattress and a free breakfast of cereal cups and stale croissants. She had stayed at enough during her consulting trips to know the one down the road was the same as any. Same mediocre art prints, same TV bolted to the wall, the same Bible in the drawer. The safehouse was a nice change.

In quick order and quiet driving, the three of them came up on the hotel. It was a dingy little thing, a courtyard parking lot with the hotels attached to the front office, their front doors all opening out straight to the parking lot. Two levels, and Donnelley estimated probably forty rooms. He took note of the cars, however few there were, in the parking lot. Most of them were tired SUVs and sedans from the dawn of the 2000s that hadn’t looked to be washed in a good while. Their brakes squeaked into one of the many empty parking spaces, Donnelley’s eyes scanning their surroundings. “Alright, all business from here. Jason, I’ll keep you on my phone. Laine, let’s go.”

Donnelley pushes open his door and shoved his handgun inside his IWB holster, taking another scan of the parking lot. He retrieved his phone, ringing up Jason and nodding at the man through his window before he and Laine made their way from the car towards Frank’s room. “Which room was he in?” He asked Laine, keeping his eyes on the hotel windows and the quiet parking lot.

Laine parked the SUV and got out, adjusting her Glock on the shoulder holster beneath her blazer. She scanned the parking lot, checking to see if any of the vehicles had people waiting and watching. 

"204, second floor," she replied, knowing the layout of cheap motels rarely varied. "This way."

Laine walked quickly to the first flight of outdoor stairs, creaking steel steps showing flakes of rust around the bolts. 

“Okay,” Donnelley nodded at Laine’s back as he followed her up the stairs. A few steps until they got to the door marked 204 and Laine rapped her knuckles on the door. Seconds passed by in agony as Donnelley turned away from Laine, watching her 6 o’clock.

The door opened after a bit and Frank sheepishly chuckled at the sight of Laine, relief apparent in the soft huffs, “You’re here!” He exclaimed.

Laine gave him an assured smile, "I told you we would be. Now grab your stuff, the car is waiting." 

She glanced back at Donnelley, "Everything good?"

“Ye- Wait…” Donnelley’s eyes narrowed to slits as they tracked a Dodge Charger rumble into the parking lot, coming to a stop in the middle of it. “Jason…”

“I’m tracking him.” Jason’s voice came from his phone.

The passenger side door of the Charger opened up and a man in a black t-shirt stepped out, blonde hair under a gray baseball cap, folding his thick arms as he looked up at the two of them at Frank’s door. “Y’all some friends of Frank’s?”

Donnelley glanced back at Laine and noted Frank busy with packing his things. Why he hadn’t done it before they got there had him cursing everything about this. He turned back to the man in the Charger, “Sure am!” He smiled, a baring of fangs in his mouth, “Who’re you?”

“Just some friends of Frank’s too.” The man smiled and nodded, “You look scared, partner.”

Donnelley’s smirk hadn’t left him as he sucked his teeth and took a step towards the handrail of the balcony. He took a moment to scan the road for more cars and then snorted something into his face and hocked it out in the Charger’s direction. “Nah.”

The man in the Charger nodded a few times, slow, his smile fading more with each dip of his head. “Alright. I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round now!”

“Lookin’ forward to it, hoss.” Donnelley waved as the man retreated back into the Charger. The car didn’t move an inch, and neither did Donnelley’s eyes away from it.

He turned his head slightly towards Laine, “Tell Frank to hurry the fuck up.” He brought his phone closer to his mouth, “Jason, they even look at you wrong, I want you to light them the fuck up.”

“Uh huh.” Came Jason’s stern acknowledgment. The beating of his heart apparent in Donnelley’s ears as he made himself look as steady as he could for Laine and Frank.

Laine heard the stranger's voice and cursed internally. No luck in a clandestine operation, there was certainly eyes on them. She stepped inside, "Frank, seriously. We need to move. Anything you don't have in that bag can be replaced, come on."

She stepped back out, glancing at Donnelley then at the Dodge Charger. Without a word she met his eyes and held them, her hand brushing the lapel of her blazer in a gesture that let the Glock peek out. As Frank was exiting the room she asked in a low voice, "Do you think that dude will give us trouble between here and the truck? Maybe I should flash my badge."

Donnelley shook his head, placing his hands on his hips in easy reach of his holstered pistol, “Somethin’ tells me he doesn’t give a shit about badges.” He clucked his tongue, “He’s goin’ to wait until it’s them and us and no one else. It’s what I’d do. He’s just tryin’ to spook us by showin’ up like this.”

“Which means,” Donnelley rose his voice, “that we should probably hurry the fuck up, Frank.”

“Okay, okay!” Frank hopped to attention and stood at the doorway. It took everything Donnelley had to not grab Frank by the collar and haul him to the Suburban.

“Let’s go.” Donnelley said, turning for the stairs.

They made the walk to the Suburban and loaded Frank into the back with Jason, every limping step Donnelley took he expected a bullet, lightning bolts of fear coursing through him and bidding him to run. The firefight never happened. Donnelley counted that as a plus as he climbed into the passenger seat after loading Frank next to Jason, Donnelley wincing and hissing as he gingerly lifted his injured leg into the passenger seat, slamming the door. “Just drive. We’re not going to the Safehouse. We go to Charleston, rent a different car and then go to the Safehouse at night.” Donnelley tore his gaze from the Charger to Laine, “Understood?”

Laine put the truck in gear and backed out of the parking spot, looking over her shoulder. She nodded, "Got it."

Her voice was tense, the mood translated in the tight shoulders and the stark line of tendon along her neck. She had to trust Donnelley now, it was his experience that would get them out of this. As she tore out of the parking lot, Laine gripped the steering wheel, forcing herself not to floor it down the highway. The last thing they needed was some Blackriver deputy pulling them over. 

"Is he following?" She asked, glancing up at the rear view mirror. Laine looked back over at Donnelley, the fine worry line forming between her brows, "How's your leg holding up?"

Jason thrust his thumb over his shoulder, from which Donnelley could see that the Charger was still behind them, though following from a good distance. Donnelley nodded to Laine and then answered as he put his attention back on where they were headed down the road, “Jason, be ready to put some rounds down-range if you need to. It’s all country from here to Charleston,” Donnelley rolled his jaw and muttered, “Prime opportunity to get rid of us.”

He rubbed at his leg, chuckling nervously, “Fuckin’ throbbin’ after those stairs.” He glanced at Laine, “Just drive. We’ll make it okay.”

“Frank, how you doin’?” Donnelley asked, eyes still on the road ahead.

“I’m, uh, I’m alright.” Frank said between glances at the Charger.

“Keep your head down. This thing’s armored, no rounds are getting through that glass.” He said, a half-lie. He knew the vehicles Foster had procured for the team were armored, but they wouldn’t stand much of a chance against explosives or large calibers.

“O-okay.” The young Forest Ranger nodded, shimmying lower into his seat.

An hour of steady driving brought them the gift of seeing the sign telling them they’d entered Charleston. In time, they saw the buildings, people, cars. Modern life and people living it, blissfully unaware the two cars that had just entered their sleepy existences were itching to pull over and have a good old fashioned shootout or a high speed chase. To Laine’s credit, she guided them true through the city, following Donnelley’s directions to take them through crowded streets and making turns that often doubled back on where they had just been a few street signs before.

[hr]
>CHARLESTON
>GOLDSTAR MOTEL
>ZERO HOUR...///

After a tense block of time that Donnelley couldn’t gauge, they’d shaken their tail, bored or looking to watch for another opportunity to intercept them. They checked into the first cheap motel they found, exchanging one cheap safe haven for another. They’d gotten a smoking room, Jason and Frank in the room adjacent, connected by a door between. Donnelley took his fingers from between the blinds and sat back down in the chair he’d made as his roost. His cigarette smoldered in the ash tray and the smell of tobacco mingled with clove. The lights were off, the only source being the residual glow of the streetlights.

The intensity of the morning had wound down and with it, the conversation. He guessed not being faced with death was an easy opportunity for shoulders to grow cold once more. He rolled his eyes, not about to prod at that fire. He glanced at Laine again before deciding his efforts were best spent on finishing his cigarette.

Laine rubbed her tired eyes, the smoke from her cigarette drifting up from the ashtray on the nightstand. She had kicked her shoes off and sat up on the bed, pillows propping her against the headboard. She watched Donnelley as he kept an eye on the parking lot but it seemed like they had lost their tail for now. 

Her thoughts drifted to the night before and the morning, to the hostility and jealousy he had displayed. Laine sighed, picking up her black Djarum and took a long drag before tapping it back into the heavy glass ashtray. She shifted against the headboard, feeling the restrictive band of her bra which would have been off by now on any normal night. Laine glanced at Donnelley who was smoking with a concentration then shook her head. The fuck if she would sit here uncomfortable because of his presence. 

She reached behind under her shirt and unhooked her bra then pulled her arm through each sleeve and the straps, pulling it out from the bottom of her sweater. Laine sighed deeply with relief, dropping the black satin lingerie beside her on the bed. 

Freedom. 

Now more comfortable, she leaned back and picked up her cigarette. The air was thick with unspoken tension that had nothing to do with Frank or whoever was after him.

"So," Laine said, the soft raspy quality of her voice seemed more noticeable. "Are we going to talk or stare at the walls avoiding each other?"

A flick of ash and she crossed her feet at her ankles, her long legs stretched out. "I wanted to apologize for last night, you didn't need me butting in."

He blew out his smoke lazily in a sigh, hanging his head for a moment and nodding. He glanced at the bra she left on the bed and the shared hotel room. Normalcy, comfortability. It was as alluring as diamonds to him. He looked at Laine, “Yeah.” He nodded, “You didn’t… need me being an asshole about things.”

He held her gaze, searching them for the same things he saw when she was looking at Jason. He shook himself from that fool’s errand, he had to stay professional, especially now. Keeping everyone at arm’s length was a good way to avoid shit like the diner. There wasn’t any place for those things on a mission. “I’m sorry though. You were concerned, and I’d say the same thing if it was you with a hole in your leg looking for liquor.” He recalled the night watching the tape, gingerly holding her injured foot, the moment of tension wanting to be released.

And how it wasn’t, “How’s your foot?”

“We both said shit we didn’t mean,” she agreed, recalling the bottle remark. It had been apt but rude. She met his gaze and held it, “Stress will do that. 

His question caught her off guard and she glanced down at her bare feet. Wiggling her toes she turned up the one that had been cut by the broken glass, looking at the healing scratch. It seemed so long ago, the haunting film and the strangeness that had enveloped all of them, invading their conscious to use their memories against them. Laine put her foot back down and gave him a half smile, shifting herself to sit up. 

“It’s healing,” she said, her green eyes flickering with recollection of his care and the unspoken moment that had passed unfulfilled between them. 

 “You did a good job. Speaking of injuries in the line of duty, if your leg is still hurting, I have some Tylenol. I know it’s not the same as a couple of shots of Jack but you’re welcome to it," Laine added quickly, her teasing tone more gentle this time. 

“Oh, thank y’kindly, miss’m.” He snorted, rolling his eyes at Laine’s teasing. His smile remained as he held Laine’s gaze, fading a bit as he made himself look somewhere else. “Be appreciated if you spared me some.”

Laine slid off the bed and went into the bathroom where she had left her purse and dug out the small bottle of painkillers. She shook out four pills, then filled a paper cup with water before returning to the bedroom. 

As she moved, the grey sweater clung to her natural shape which bounced  slightly with each step. Laine approached him, her gaze on his face watching his expression as much as where his eyes might wander. A mischievous hint of a smile touched her lips as she handed him the cup and Tylenol. 

"Here," she said, her hands now settling on her hips. After a few seconds she moved to sit on the end of the bed, facing Donnelley in his chair. Her thoughts hovered between wanting to enjoy the tentative peace as the warmth returned slowly and the need to confront him about the diner. 

She clasped her hands then unclasped them, settling her palms against her thighs. "At the diner, what was that about?"

Laine knew or assumed she knew why, just as he had reacted to Bakker. But she wanted to hear it from him, hoping that maybe she was wrong. She did not do well with controlling, possessive behavior, a natural part of her would always rebel against it.

Whatever friendliness was back on his face had evaporated as quickly as it had come with her question. He knew the apology was going to have to be sometime, but he wanted it to be on his terms. Having it here and now, against his will, it made him feel trapped. Cornered. He never did well when pushed, he tended to push back. Rebel against it.

“Just a thing, you know.” His tight smile returned but as Laine looked at him with no amusement in her eye he knew he had to continue without the smile, “Again, I know. I am an asshole. I just…”

What was he even going to say? Maybe everything between them was imagined, or not as strong as he thought. A few looks here and there, a held hand, a hurt foot. It’s not like they’d made anything official, ever. He shook his head, looked away from her with a face like he’d chewed over something bitter, “What do you want me to say, Laine?” He shrugged, “What… You can’t…”

A part of him felt the telltale clenching of his chest, a rising anger boiling to the surface and a pure animal aggression snapping his body to action. But this was Laine, this wasn’t some security guard at his daughter’s school. He rubbed his face, “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t hold his tongue before it flapped something stupid out, “I guess Jason’s [i]safer[/i].”

Laine watched silently as he struggled to hold his temper, to keep himself in control. To his credit, he did, for the most part. She could almost taste the bitterness when he mentioned Jason. She turned her face now, breaking eye contact as she rolled over his accusation. 

Maybe Jason was safer. Maybe he was just a handsome troubled man that would be a distraction and nothing more. A fuck buddy. That's what she had retreated to after the spectacular failure of her longest relationship. Maybe he was safer because despite the physical attraction she had not felt that same spark as she had with the man sitting in front of her. And he was a colleague, a coworker, not her team leader.

Her jaw tensed and she swept her hand through her dark hair. "Yeah, maybe."

Laine turned back to face him, her eyes finding his gaze. She stood up, unable to keep still and put her hands on her hips, pacing a few feet before turning back to Donnelley. She held her breath for a moment, a rush of conflicting emotions rising within, knotting her stomach. 

"You..." She started then took a deep breath. "You are an asshole for doing that. I will not be treated like a thing, something to be possessed. We haven't even started..."

Laine stopped, then ran both hands through her hair, raising her arms up that turned into a back arching stretch as she looked up at the ceiling. She was acknowledging it, the unspoken feelings that had happened. The smoldering of sparks that occurred over the months. 

She dropped her arms and looked at him, a sardonic grin trying to appear on her lips but she fought it back and it became more a feline curling of her lips, "You are fucking bold, Donnelley."

Donnelley slowly raised his shoulders and his hands rose barely an inch from the arms of his chair, “Yeah,” he rolled his jaw and nodded at her, eyes still suspended on her own, “Maybe.”

He stood too, puffing on the dying ember of his cigarette to put life back into it, all the while their gazes never left each other, “I didn’t mean it that way, though.” He said quietly, “You’re not a thing. You’re a person who can make their own [i]choices.[/i]”

Part of him wanted to keep digging his fingers deeper into the wound, some kind of sick need to push Laine away and give a childish ultimatum between him and the man in the other room. Another part of him wanted to turn that aggression into something else more passionate, but that was reserved for the people he could give a shit about waking up next to the following morning. “So, there. Sorry.” He shook his head, “I am sorry.”

His apology sounded like he had a tooth pulled but she nodded her acceptance. Laine bit her lower lip slightly in thought, then said, "Alright."

She looked at him and her gaze lingered on his extensive scar then moved to his eyes. Part of her wanted to ask how many times he had said sorry until his wife got tired of hearing it but it was petty and mean. Though she felt it was a sincere apology, it was still words and there was still his underlying insistence of her making a choice. That irked her still and she turned away, rocking on her heels. 

"Well, I guess I'll go next door, I hope Frank's a heavy sleeper," Laine said lightly, looking over to the door that connected the rooms.

His expression didn’t shift away from annoyance as he stared at her, watched her face. He figured she was joking but now of all times to do it, he huffed a cloud of smoke through his nose and turned away from her, grasping up his flask in his coat pocket, “You think you’re so fuckin’ funny, don’t you.”

She looked back at him, the teasing grin forming on her lips turning to one of chagrin. She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow, unable to keep sarcasm out of her voice, "Yeah, sometimes."

Laine sighed when she saw him draw out the flask, her expression softening. He had been insecure about whatever he thought she might feel for Jason, that was certain, and here she was rubbing salt into the wound. She tried to meet his eyes, it had been petty, and Laine felt a rush of remorse for the snark. 

"Bad timing," she admitted, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck, "I apologize for that. Look, if I really wanted a different roommate I would have said so."

Laine waited a beat, her gaze flicking over to the flask and the thought of drinking while on the job not being a good idea passed over her mind. It was gone as quickly as it formed, there was no way she was going to point that out and wondered briefly if he was testing her reaction as she had just done with him. Or more likely it was habit to soothe frayed nerves, part of which she was responsible for tonight.

"I could use a shot," Laine said, glancing back up to his eyes. "If you don't mind."

He sighed, looking at her and pursing his lips. She knew how to dig deep into him just as well as he could to her, though it remained to be said that he made it all too easy this time. He always figured her to be a sharp one, but never imagined the possibility that he’d feel her edge. There was still a camaraderie there between them, still a connection. And as he once again took the opportunity to glance her over in the glory of her curves and all, there was still that need put into him by years of marriage to mend bridges by breaking beds. He settled for offering out the flask, dangling it in front of himself by thumb and forefinger, “I thought you’d never ask.” He said, a twitch of a smirk at the corners of his lips as he jerked the flask away from her reaching hand, but nothing more, “Drinkin’ on duty. Been hangin’ around me too long.”

He placed the flask in her hand and sat back down, grinding the smoldering cherry of the cigarette into the ashtray.

She reached for the flask only to have it jerked away, dangling in temptation before her until he relented. Laine took it, eyeing him with the hint of a coy smile on her lips. "You're a bad influence," she said, sipping from the flask. 

The path of his gaze had not escaped her and she knew what it meant, the idea spiking in her was as dangerous and tempting as the whiskey. Even more so because it was in the darkest part of the night in a strange motel room and death lurked like a persistent shadow.

He sunk lower into his seat and undid his tie, the ends hanging down either side of his chest and framing the two undone buttons on his shirt. A grin slowly grew across his lips and just like that night in Charleston he felt a fire in him. Lonely motels, alcohol, a woman and risk were a combination that always led Donnelley into trouble. “Always have been.” He spoke as he undid his cuffs and rolled his sleeves to the elbow, muscles writhing in his forearms as his fingers worked and he put his hand out, “Please?”

Laine let her own gaze travel over his lean body, lingering on his forearms now exposed. There was probably something Freudian about her admiration of a man's arms, especially those like his. Hard muscles won from labor, the line that flexed amid the dusting of fine ginger hairs held her gaze until he spoke again. She took another sip, the whiskey firing a path through her torso and stoking the warmth already building deep below. 

She snapped her gaze back up to his eyes, feeling the heat of the whiskey and her awareness of their mutual interest flush her pale cheeks. "I bet," she said, handing him the flask. "Making  kissy faces at rednecks and Taliban."

Laine grinned, her eyes were tired but now sparked green in their depths. She sank back on the foot of the twin bed she had claimed, looking at him still in the chair. 

He took her own roaming eyes as cue to let his do the same. Roaming over the sensual curves and linger on the soft rise and fall of her chest. He met her eyes as he took a quick pull from his flask and capped it. He sighed appreciatively at her and set his flask on the table next to him. “There’s the chance we’ll have to sleep here.” Donnelley clucked his tongue and made a show of looking out the window, “Or we could leave now.”

Without turning his head his eyes settled on Laine, “If we really got to.”

Laine could still feel the tingling from the whiskey, and from his direct blue gaze. She turned her head when he looked away and ran her hand over her face. She was not thinking clearly because there was a strong urge to straddle his lap, wounded thigh or not and that would certainly lead to other things that could not be undone in the light of day. 

"Well," she shifted herself on the end of the bed, finally looking back over at him. "It's so late, if I fall asleep I'm not waking up with the sun. It might be better to stay awake for awhile or just leave, but I'll leave that up to you, boss. Tactical decision time."

Donnelley nodded, something playing across his brow. The task at hand seemed to filter back in to the forefront of his mind and he sighed, “We’ll mount up, haul ass back home.” He looked at her fully, turning his body in his chair to face her and wore his urges plain for a few moments, biting his lip and chuckling as he stood, “[i]Goddamn.[/i]”

He snatched up the keys, tossing them in the air and catching them in his waiting palm again, “I'll wake up Jason and Frank. I’m drivin’.”

Laine nodded, it was the right decision, there was much more at stake than their personal desires. A knowing grin formed at his remark, her brows ticking up slightly as if to agree with the sentiment.

Laine pushed the preoccupying thoughts aside and stood up to fetch her shoes. "I'll make a pit stop while you do that."

She went into the restroom and shut the door, turning on the cold water Laine cupped her hands in it to splash her face. Half the reason was to help wake her up, the other half would probably need a whole cold shower to settle but distraction would have to do the trick. Riding back to the safehouse would hopefully be uneventful, they had lost the Dodge Challenger on their way here. 

Laine dried her face and neck, then stepped back out into the room and put on her holster and blazer, then slung her bag over her shoulder. She glanced towards the connector door that stood ajar, calling out, "I'm ready when you are."

Jason emerged from the door first with a hand at Frank’s back. The two of them looked groggy, though Frank was worse for wear. Donnelley followed them out of the connector door and watched them as they went. As the sound of doors opening and shutting on the Explorer sounded, Donnelley looked from the open door to Laine. He spun the keys on his finger and offered her a little smile. It seemed responsibility and risky careers kept getting in the way of their little moments. He looked away for a moment and huffed a chuckle, appreciating her in the dim light of the motel room’s lamp. He settled on her eyes and smirked. The fact he wanted so badly to jump from his chair and hold her down by the wrists on that damn bed, and then did not get to, simmered just below the surface. He shook his head and chuckled as he turned for the door, “[i]Goddamn.[/i]”

Laine stuffed her bra into her purse as she stepped out of the room. She had her blazer back on, covering her holster and the telltale bounce of her unfettered chest. Meeting Donnelley's eyes she recognized the desire and matched his smirk with her own little half smile and shrugged her shoulders.  

With a sigh, she passed him on her way out and said, "Well, back to work."

The faint scent of her perfume might be noticed, a sensual light musk that drifted after she had stepped past him. Laine headed towards the truck as the others climbed into the back and she opened the passenger door, pausing to glance around at the motel lot. It seemed as quiet as a parking lot might be at the darkest hour of the night. 

Laine climbed into the Explorer and buckled in, glancing behind at the two tired faces then have Frank an encouraging smile. "We're heading home, you'll be safe there."

“Don’t call it a Safehouse for nothin’.” Donnelley’s grin shone white in the shadows of the night as he opened the door and grunted himself into the driver’s seat. He looked around for any reaction to his dumb joke, but Jason was still rubbing sleep from his eyes and Frank was understandably not in a joking mood. The only one who showed anything was Laine and her shaking head and a small smirk.

The engine revved to life, “Alright.” Donnelley said, “Let’s go.”