Serial Story: Jasmine Betrayal, Part 5
This story is presented weekly in draft (that means unedited)
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 5
Genevieve lost track of the backroads her would-be protector used to lose the people following them, but eventually they were all alone on a two-lane highway and heading west. The sky was lightening as dawn began to break behind them. Max pulled into a tiny no-name town and parked behind a cheap-looking hotel.
“I’m trying to help you,” he said, weariness permeating both his voice and the lines of his face. “I need you to cooperate with me, or they will kill you. Can you do that, just for a little while?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t even matter now. They have the diner, so what’s the point? If the cops are on their side like you said, there’s nothing I can do anyway.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand down one side of his face. “We can call a lawyer, to start. I know someone who can help. And then as long as we have the deed, or can get a copy of it, we can fight this. But first we both need some sleep. Come on. I’ll get us a room.”
“Two rooms,” she said, sliding out of the truck and closing the door. She walked around the bed and met him on the other side, surprised when he grabbed her hand in a rather firm grip.
“One room, two beds.” He pulled her toward the office. “There’s no guarantee they won’t track us down here, and I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”
She tugged against him, wincing at the pain in her fingers as he merely gripped tighter. “You’re basically kidnapping me. I could scream right now, and you’d have to let me go.”
He stopped short, and she almost ran into him as he turned and looked down at her. He was tall - too tall, and between his height and those strong broad shoulders, she had to admit she was intimidated.
And a little turned on too, damn it.
“Then do it.”
She seriously considered stamping her foot in frustration, and the slight lift at the corners of his mouth wasn’t helping. For a moment, there was something in his eyes that held her captive, a spark of interest that intrigued and scared her at the same time. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could swear he was leaning closer, perhaps even bending for a kiss…
Rather abruptly, he turned away and pulled her behind him again, his grip loosened only slightly. She rolled her eyes and tried to keep up, trying to decide which was worse - his unyielding attitude or her lack of self-control.
Holding the door open for her, he finally released her wrist inside the small, seventies-style hotel office. The rust-carpet crept half-way up the walls and there were all of two uncomfortable looking plastic chairs shaped like eggs, and a short wooden-panel desk with a metal bell sitting on top. The sign in front of the bell said “Do not ring” in bold, block letters.
Max tapped the bell. Twice.
A few cuss words drifted through the dark doorway beyond, followed by shuffling sounds and a crash that made Genevieve twitch. A couple seconds later, an elderly lady in a long flowered mu-mu of some sort emerged, her salt and pepper hair sticking out in all directions and the wrinkles on her face pulled together in an annoyed squint.
“Whadda ya want! Can’t you read?” She pointed to the sign in front of the bell, then leaned on the back of the counter. “Just ‘cause you ain’t sleepin’ doesn’t mean you have to wake the whole place up. What happened to good Southern manners anyway?”
Genevieve struggled not to laugh as Max explained calmly that they needed a room for the...day. The hotel owner was clearly not southern, but she couldn’t place the odd accent. The old woman gave Max more grief and more than once Genevieve caught a disapproving look of her own, but finally they had a room key and an admonition to keep quiet and not disturb the other guests.
Resigned for the moment, Genevieve followed Max back out and past most of the doors at ground level until they reached the last, closest to where he’d parked the truck. They went inside and he locked the double-keyed deadbolt, pocketing the room key. Genevieve looked around.
“There are probably bed bugs in that mattress,” she remarked, headed toward a door she assumed led to a bathroom. Poking her head in, she moved back just as quickly, wrinkling her nose. “I’m pretty sure the maid quit a long time ago too. Are you sure we can’t just get our money back and go somewhere the inanimate objects won’t try to kill us?”
Max sat down on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up, laying his head on a pillow and closing his eyes. “You really want to get our hostess out of bed again? Be my guest. And we won’t be here long. I’m pretty sure you’ll survive, which is the whole point. Come lay down and get some rest.” He patted the space beside him, and it finally dawned on her.
“There’s only one bed.”
He cracked one eye open, regarding her with a look that said he thought she might have a screw loose.
“You’re smart. This room was closest to the truck, and cheap. Get over it.” He closed his eyes again, letting a breath out long and slow as he relaxed into the comforter.
Just the sight of it made her itch.
The only other furniture in the room was a small square television stand with an equally square TV, and a pair of square wooden chairs with tan leather-look backs and seats that looked only slightly more comfortable than those in the office had. She glanced at the bed, and then at the chairs again, finally pulling one chair to face the other, and stretching out as well as she could between them.
“You’re gonna have a kinked neck,” Max warned. “Not to mention serious back pain.”
She shot him a dirty look, but he hadn’t even opened his eyes. Bastard.
“We’re not going to be here that long - your words.” She crossed her arms over her chest and scooted around to find a semi-comfortable spot as his breathing slowed, evening out.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d dozed, but at some point she twitched, jerking her head up and barely suppressing a cry of pain when the predicted kink in her neck materialized. Rubbing it with one hand, she looked over at Max, who had shifted onto his side.
The keys to the room and the truck - her truck - were lying in the bed beside him, apparently having worked their way out of his pocket.
She chewed her lower lip. Contrary to what both Max and the goons chasing her probably thought, she hadn’t been staying in her father’s old trailer. She couldn’t, not while she was sorting through his things, trying to make sense of his life. Instead, she’d subletted an apartment in Little Rock, and that’s where she’d been working on all the accounting and legal paperwork.
The deed was there too. It would be hard for anyone to track her down there, since the lease wasn’t actually in her name. If she could just get there, she could lay low, talk to a lawyer and figure out some way to get Jenkins off her back.
It would depend a lot on how sound Max was sleeping, and whether the stabbing pain in the center of her lower back was going to be a big issue or not.
Deciding a test was in order, she carefully pushed the chair her feet were resting on away a few inches, making a slight scraping sound on the low, industrial carpet. Standing up, she winced at the pain as her body protested. Hands on her hips, she leaned back, then forward, trying to stretch out the knot, but even though it loosened slightly, she knew it was going to be a long drive back to town.
If she could figure out which was that was.
Max still appeared to be sleeping and she studied his face for a moment. The hard, square jaw, thick black eyebrows and small, slightly crooked nose reminded her of a quintessential mobster. A pinstripe suit and fedora, and he could easily step back into the New York twenties without even attracting attention. His lips were full and oh-so-kissable, and for the second or third time since they’d met, she wondered what they would feel like against hers.
Doing her best to move naturally, she leaned over and grabbed the keys, one at a time so they didn’t jingle together. Two steps got her from the bed to the door, and she spent way too much time trying to quietly fit the key into the sticky deadbolt, and yet more precious seconds trying to coax the key to turn. Whoever had installed these locks sure wasn’t worried about safety, but since she wouldn’t be back, she saw no point in complaining.
Finally getting the door open, she left the room key hanging in the lock and carefully pulled it shut. Then she jogged around the corner to the truck, got behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Moved the seat forward. Shifted into drive.
Just as she put her foot on the gas, the passenger door opened and Max hopped in, his door closing forcefully as she stepped on the accelerator.
“So,” he said, as if she hadn’t just tried to ditch him cold. “Where are we going?”
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 5
Genevieve lost track of the backroads her would-be protector used to lose the people following them, but eventually they were all alone on a two-lane highway and heading west. The sky was lightening as dawn began to break behind them. Max pulled into a tiny no-name town and parked behind a cheap-looking hotel.
“I’m trying to help you,” he said, weariness permeating both his voice and the lines of his face. “I need you to cooperate with me, or they will kill you. Can you do that, just for a little while?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t even matter now. They have the diner, so what’s the point? If the cops are on their side like you said, there’s nothing I can do anyway.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand down one side of his face. “We can call a lawyer, to start. I know someone who can help. And then as long as we have the deed, or can get a copy of it, we can fight this. But first we both need some sleep. Come on. I’ll get us a room.”
“Two rooms,” she said, sliding out of the truck and closing the door. She walked around the bed and met him on the other side, surprised when he grabbed her hand in a rather firm grip.
“One room, two beds.” He pulled her toward the office. “There’s no guarantee they won’t track us down here, and I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”
She tugged against him, wincing at the pain in her fingers as he merely gripped tighter. “You’re basically kidnapping me. I could scream right now, and you’d have to let me go.”
He stopped short, and she almost ran into him as he turned and looked down at her. He was tall - too tall, and between his height and those strong broad shoulders, she had to admit she was intimidated.
And a little turned on too, damn it.
“Then do it.”
She seriously considered stamping her foot in frustration, and the slight lift at the corners of his mouth wasn’t helping. For a moment, there was something in his eyes that held her captive, a spark of interest that intrigued and scared her at the same time. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could swear he was leaning closer, perhaps even bending for a kiss…
Rather abruptly, he turned away and pulled her behind him again, his grip loosened only slightly. She rolled her eyes and tried to keep up, trying to decide which was worse - his unyielding attitude or her lack of self-control.
Holding the door open for her, he finally released her wrist inside the small, seventies-style hotel office. The rust-carpet crept half-way up the walls and there were all of two uncomfortable looking plastic chairs shaped like eggs, and a short wooden-panel desk with a metal bell sitting on top. The sign in front of the bell said “Do not ring” in bold, block letters.
Max tapped the bell. Twice.
A few cuss words drifted through the dark doorway beyond, followed by shuffling sounds and a crash that made Genevieve twitch. A couple seconds later, an elderly lady in a long flowered mu-mu of some sort emerged, her salt and pepper hair sticking out in all directions and the wrinkles on her face pulled together in an annoyed squint.
“Whadda ya want! Can’t you read?” She pointed to the sign in front of the bell, then leaned on the back of the counter. “Just ‘cause you ain’t sleepin’ doesn’t mean you have to wake the whole place up. What happened to good Southern manners anyway?”
Genevieve struggled not to laugh as Max explained calmly that they needed a room for the...day. The hotel owner was clearly not southern, but she couldn’t place the odd accent. The old woman gave Max more grief and more than once Genevieve caught a disapproving look of her own, but finally they had a room key and an admonition to keep quiet and not disturb the other guests.
Resigned for the moment, Genevieve followed Max back out and past most of the doors at ground level until they reached the last, closest to where he’d parked the truck. They went inside and he locked the double-keyed deadbolt, pocketing the room key. Genevieve looked around.
“There are probably bed bugs in that mattress,” she remarked, headed toward a door she assumed led to a bathroom. Poking her head in, she moved back just as quickly, wrinkling her nose. “I’m pretty sure the maid quit a long time ago too. Are you sure we can’t just get our money back and go somewhere the inanimate objects won’t try to kill us?”
Max sat down on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up, laying his head on a pillow and closing his eyes. “You really want to get our hostess out of bed again? Be my guest. And we won’t be here long. I’m pretty sure you’ll survive, which is the whole point. Come lay down and get some rest.” He patted the space beside him, and it finally dawned on her.
“There’s only one bed.”
He cracked one eye open, regarding her with a look that said he thought she might have a screw loose.
“You’re smart. This room was closest to the truck, and cheap. Get over it.” He closed his eyes again, letting a breath out long and slow as he relaxed into the comforter.
Just the sight of it made her itch.
The only other furniture in the room was a small square television stand with an equally square TV, and a pair of square wooden chairs with tan leather-look backs and seats that looked only slightly more comfortable than those in the office had. She glanced at the bed, and then at the chairs again, finally pulling one chair to face the other, and stretching out as well as she could between them.
“You’re gonna have a kinked neck,” Max warned. “Not to mention serious back pain.”
She shot him a dirty look, but he hadn’t even opened his eyes. Bastard.
“We’re not going to be here that long - your words.” She crossed her arms over her chest and scooted around to find a semi-comfortable spot as his breathing slowed, evening out.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d dozed, but at some point she twitched, jerking her head up and barely suppressing a cry of pain when the predicted kink in her neck materialized. Rubbing it with one hand, she looked over at Max, who had shifted onto his side.
The keys to the room and the truck - her truck - were lying in the bed beside him, apparently having worked their way out of his pocket.
She chewed her lower lip. Contrary to what both Max and the goons chasing her probably thought, she hadn’t been staying in her father’s old trailer. She couldn’t, not while she was sorting through his things, trying to make sense of his life. Instead, she’d subletted an apartment in Little Rock, and that’s where she’d been working on all the accounting and legal paperwork.
The deed was there too. It would be hard for anyone to track her down there, since the lease wasn’t actually in her name. If she could just get there, she could lay low, talk to a lawyer and figure out some way to get Jenkins off her back.
It would depend a lot on how sound Max was sleeping, and whether the stabbing pain in the center of her lower back was going to be a big issue or not.
Deciding a test was in order, she carefully pushed the chair her feet were resting on away a few inches, making a slight scraping sound on the low, industrial carpet. Standing up, she winced at the pain as her body protested. Hands on her hips, she leaned back, then forward, trying to stretch out the knot, but even though it loosened slightly, she knew it was going to be a long drive back to town.
If she could figure out which was that was.
Max still appeared to be sleeping and she studied his face for a moment. The hard, square jaw, thick black eyebrows and small, slightly crooked nose reminded her of a quintessential mobster. A pinstripe suit and fedora, and he could easily step back into the New York twenties without even attracting attention. His lips were full and oh-so-kissable, and for the second or third time since they’d met, she wondered what they would feel like against hers.
Doing her best to move naturally, she leaned over and grabbed the keys, one at a time so they didn’t jingle together. Two steps got her from the bed to the door, and she spent way too much time trying to quietly fit the key into the sticky deadbolt, and yet more precious seconds trying to coax the key to turn. Whoever had installed these locks sure wasn’t worried about safety, but since she wouldn’t be back, she saw no point in complaining.
Finally getting the door open, she left the room key hanging in the lock and carefully pulled it shut. Then she jogged around the corner to the truck, got behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Moved the seat forward. Shifted into drive.
Just as she put her foot on the gas, the passenger door opened and Max hopped in, his door closing forcefully as she stepped on the accelerator.
“So,” he said, as if she hadn’t just tried to ditch him cold. “Where are we going?”
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
No comments have been added yet.
