7. Blane

CHAPTER 7

Blane

B y a miracle, we made it to Saint George, Utah, without the suspension falling out of the truck. Kayden didn’t seem to be a fan of the rear-view mirror because he failed to notice us in the distance when he pulled into the parking lot of the Rest-E-Z Motel and slotted his car neatly into a space at the far end of the single-storey cinderblock building. The place was a dump—mustard-yellow paint peeling from the walls, a buzzing neon sign that blinked on and off at random intervals, and assorted trash blowing along the walkway that ran in front of the rooms.

Kayden climbed out of his car and glanced both ways, trying to get his bearings, it seemed. After a moment, he hefted the duffel bag, walked to room six, and knocked on the door. It opened a second later, as if the occupant had been waiting.

“There she is,” Joseph murmured.

Why had Wren come to this awful place? Whatever happened to make her leave Vegas, it must have been truly terrible .

“We should talk with her.”

“You don’t think we should wait until Kayden leaves?”

“What if she goes with him? This truck isn’t going to make it much farther. If they decide to drive to, say, Wyoming, we’ll be left smoking at the side of the highway.”

“Maybe I could source another vehicle?”

“What would you come back with this time? A bicycle?”

Joseph folded his arms and huffed. “Fine, we’ll speak with them.”

“I’ll knock on the door, and you can go around the back in case they try to escape through the window.”

“You really think they’d do that?”

Who knew? I mean, I’d seen it in a movie once, plus Wren’s wannabe kidnappers had tried the same trick, so it seemed a reasonable possibility. And these shoes weren’t designed for running. Not that I wanted to run anywhere—I’d get hot, and I couldn’t take off my jacket because of the bloodstain on my shirt, which had spread out from the bullet hole in the shape of Montana. Dammit.

“Just go around the back.”

“What if I stay here and listen in on the conversation?”

I’d already been shot once for loitering today, and I didn’t particularly want it to happen a second time, even to Joseph. He’d never stop whining about it. And the truck parked next to us came complete with a rifle rack and a bumper sticker that said Gun control is hitting your target .

“We have the element of surprise right now. Let’s not waste it.”

I gave Joseph a few minutes to get in place, then climbed out of the truck. When I closed the door, the handle fell off again. Was our roadside assistance coverage up to date? Because we were going to need it on the drive back.

As I paused outside the door to room six, the murmur of voices came from inside, plus the sound of quiet sobbing. Wren? Something wrenched in my chest, a lurching pain I hadn’t felt since my days with Nevaeh. When I saw Wren two days ago, she’d been happy. What had Zion done to her?

I knocked on the door, and the voices stopped abruptly.

“Who’s there?” Kayden called.

Should I try the old “room service” trick? Hmm… In this place, no one would believe me.

“It’s Lucian Blane.”

Silence, then muttering. After a long moment, footsteps approached, the door cracked open, and Kayden peered through the gap. His expression said Ah, shit .

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“As I said before, I’m performing outreach on behalf of the employee relations team.”

“How the hell did you get to this place?”

“In a truck, unfortunately.”

“Mr. Blane?” Wren appeared, her pale cheeks stained with tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call.”

“That doesn’t matter. I just need to know you’re okay. Can I come in?”

Kayden turned to his sister, and when she nodded, he opened the door wide enough for me to step through. The inside of the motel room was as bad as the outside. The carpet, bedspread, and drapes all bore dubious-looking stains, and someone had earned seven years of bad luck for cracking the mirror. Was I superstitious? Not really, but my father moved in mysterious ways.

“What happened, Wren?”

“I…I don’t know where to start.”

Nowhere, if Kayden had his way. “Do you trust this asshole? He must have followed me here.”

“I don’t trust anyone at the moment.”

I offered what I hoped was a winning smile. Years ago, after Joseph told me I reminded him of Jack Nicholson’s Joker when I grinned, I’d taken to practising in front of the mirror, and I liked to think I’d turned into Bradley Cooper with a hint of a young Zac Efron. Wren didn’t recoil in horror, so I had to be doing something right.

“If I wasn’t on your side, I’d have returned to Vegas and told Zion where you were, not knocked on the door to offer help.”

Now she shrank back. “Z-Z-Zion? What do you know about Zion?”

“When I went to your apartment to look for you last night, one of his acquaintances decided to drop by. You might want to invest in a better lock.”

I left Vee’s name out of it. Better for Wren to remain blissfully unaware of Vee’s dietary preferences.

“You spoke with him? What did he say?”

“Not much, only that he’d come to take you to Zion. Don’t worry about him returning; he’s resigned from the job now.”

“If Zion’s looking for me, he’ll just send somebody else.”

“How do you know Zion?”

“I don’t. I only know of him.” Wren shuddered. “He’s a psycho.”

“If you don’t know the man, then why did he send a buddy to kidnap you?”

Wren glanced at her brother, and Kayden shrugged. An unspoken conversation took place, some sibling thing—I communicated with Aurelia that way, but never Decima. With Decima, I mostly wondered how we were related at all.

Wren’s answer shouldn’t have been important, but as she underwent an internal struggle and bit down on that plump pink bottom lip of hers, I found myself growing tense. I wasn’t exactly human, and yet I’d adopted some of their little foibles. Pride, for example. Her perception of me mattered.

Finally, she came to a decision.

“My friend Caria was dating a guy named Laurent. He’s the one who knows Zion. Zion used to come over to his place sometimes, and Caria always tried to avoid him. She said he was a nasty little thug—and I heard bad things about him too—but when she told Laurent he gave her the creeps, Laurent just laughed and said she was overreacting.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Wren did trust me, at least a little bit.

“That still doesn’t explain why Zion came for you.”

Wren sank onto the end of the bed. “As a favour for Laurent, I guess. Caria saw something she shouldn’t have, and she told me about it. Now I’m a loose end. A problem that needs to be fixed.”

“What did Caria see?”

Wren lost a shade of colour, and her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper.

“She saw a murder.”