On my fifth evening away, I was walking back to the motel with a bag of groceries when I noticed a black SUV parked near the entrance. It had New York plates.
I recognized it immediately.
The car belonged to Yates.
My heart lurched. I turned around before anyone could see me, but I had barely taken a few steps when a hand closed around my wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Yates sounded every bit as angry as I remembered.
"Is someone after you, or do you just have a guilty conscience?"
I twisted my wrist, but his grip only tightened.
"Not until you hear what happened after you ran." Something in his voice made me stop struggling.
"You kept Blake in that hotel room for five days. The second you left, he came tearing out of that hotel after you. He didn't even stop to finish
