their mingled breathing and the flickering light from the television providing eerie illumination to the drab motel room.
“What next?” he mouthed silently against her ear. His body was still half on top of hers, but he held himself very still, doing nothing to increase the pressure of his hips against hers.
“Stay where you are.” She slid from underneath him, off the bed with a fluid, silent grace, moving through the dimly lit motel room like a ghost, keeping well away from the windows. She edged over to the outside wall, pressed her back against the stained and scarred paneling, and moved her head a fraction of an inch, just far enough to get a tiny glimpse out into the scrubby bushes that lined the front of the motel.
“What are you doing?” Mack pitched his voice perfectly—it reached her on the breath of a sigh, going no farther than her ears. And then he raised it a few decibels. “Damn it, Maggie, are you laughing?”
She couldn’t hold it back any longer. The amusement rippled out of her, a rich full laugh as she staggered back to her own bed. Only for a moment she considered rejoining him on his bed, considered and then wisely rejected the notion. She flopped down on her bed, still laughing. “You can turn on the light,” she said in a normal voice. “And you can call me paranoid.”
“Don’t tell me there was no one out there. I heard them too.” He switched on the light, squinting in the sudden brightness.
“Oh, there’s someone out there, all right—three teenage boys! They’ve given up on us since we were unsporting enough to turn off the lights, and now they’re peering in the window three doors down.” She let a last chuckle fade away in a contented sigh. “I guess I have been too alarmist. I’ll be glad when we get to Houston tomorrow and you’re no longer my responsibility.”
“Been that tough on you?” he drawled, turning his attention back to the television.
For the first time Maggie felt a moment’s doubt. Surely Mack Pulaski couldn’t have hurt feelings? Surely he wanted this small odyssey to be over with as much as she did. Didn’t he? Didn’t she?
“I’d like to deliver you in one piece, Pulaski,” she said after amoment. “We can argue about it when I fix you up with my mother.”
He grinned, and she decided she’d imagined that momentary reaction. But he said nothing, turning back to the ever-present din of the TV, and Maggie lay back on the bed, stretching her long legs out and closing her eyes. She wasn’t lying when she said she’d be glad to pass him over to Peter Wallace. It had been years since her instincts had played her false. She could have sworn the men in the diner were far too interested in the two of them. She could have sworn someone had been watching them tonight, and not for the sake of vicarious thrills. When it came to a time that her reflexes were so far off, it was time for a long break. Whether she liked it or not, lives were depending on her. And she was beginning to doubt whether she could live up to the responsibility. This was still fairly new to her, this life-or-death situation. She’d managed so far, but there were no guarantees that she’d continue her lucky streak.
“Don’t worry about it, Maggie May,” Mack’s raw voice came from the other bed. “A little paranoia can come in handy sometimes.”
Maggie’s eyes flew open. “How’d you know what I was thinking about?”
He grinned. “I know you better than you think, lady.”
“Am I that transparent?”
“No, I’m that good,” he said, reaching down beside his bed for his abandoned glass of whiskey. “I’ll tell you something else, Superwoman.”
She didn’t even bother to snap at him for the nickname. “What?” she demanded warily.
“I don’t think you’ll be abandoning me in Houston. I think we’ve got more in store for us than a three-day trek across the Southwest.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Yup. And my instincts are seldom