Chapter 3 - The Motel Room Break-In
The rain was coming down harder by the time Gabriel navigated the Maybach into the cracked, potholed parking lot of the Starlight Motel—a rundown, neon-flickering dump on the wrong side of the tracks where I had managed to rent a room for two weeks using cash I had saved from my previous scrubbing jobs.
Gabriel parked the car in a shadowy alcove behind a row of overflowing trash dumpsters, killing the engine and the headlights.
"Stay here," he instructed, reaching into his jacket to check the weight of the concealed firearm resting in his shoulder holster.
"No," I protested, reaching for the door handle. "I'm coming with you. It's my room, and my suitcase is under the bed. You don't even know where it is."
Gabriel turned his head, his cold gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that brooked no argument. "Harper, Lawson could have left a tail. He could be watching this room right now waiting for you to come back. If he's here—"
"If he's here, running away won't change anything!" I interrupted, my voice rising in panic. "I've spent three years running from him, Gabriel. Every time I ran, every time I hid, he always found me because I was too scared to face him. I am not letting him touch Noah. I am coming with you."
For a long moment, Gabriel just stared at me. Then, a slow, grudging flicker of respect crossed his features. He nodded once.
"Stay behind me," he said, pushing open his door. "Whatever happens, you don't step in front of me. Understood?"
"Understood."
We slipped out into the cold, drizzling rain, moving silently across the wet asphalt toward Room 114. The motel was quiet, save for the hum of a flickering ice machine down the breezeway and the distant wail of a police siren echoing somewhere across the highway.
Gabriel approached the metal door of my room like a trained operative, pressing his ear to the wood for three seconds before sliding a small, matte-black keycard out of his pocket. With a soft click, the lock disengaged.
He pushed the door open slowly, stepping inside with his weapon drawn and ready.
I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before following him into the cramped, stale-smelling room. The single twin bed was neatly made, a cheap floral comforter pulled tight across the mattress. The small wooden table in the corner held a half-eaten box of crackers and a paper cup of tap water.
Nothing had been disturbed.
"The suitcase," I whispered, pointing toward the dark space beneath the bed.
Gabriel holstered his weapon, dropped to one knee, and reached under the metal frame of the bed. With a soft scrape of fabric against linoleum, he pulled out the battered, scuffed black faux-leather suitcase I had dragged out of our apartment window three weeks ago.
He set it down on top of the floral comforter, standing up to tower over the small piece of luggage.
"Is this it?"
"Yes," I nodded, swallowing hard. "The combination is zero-zero-zero. He never bothered to change it."
Gabriel didn't waste time entering a code. He simply popped the two brass latches open with a sharp snap that made me jump.
The lid flew open, revealing my folded clothes, two of Noah’s comic books, and a faded pink hairbrush resting neatly on top. Gabriel’s hands moved methodically through the contents, lifting my shirts and pants until his fingers brushed against the rigid, reinforced bottom lining of the suitcase.
May you like
With a low grunt of effort, he tore open the cheap fabric lining along the inner seam.
There, tucked deep inside a hidden pocket in the foam backing, sat a thick, heavy black envelope made of textured cardstock, sealed tightly with red wax stamped with a crest I didn't recognize.
