The room smelled like stale air and the harsh lemon scent they use in cheap motels to cover up the cigarette smoke. Roman pushed the door shut and immediately turned the deadbolt, the metal click echoing in the small space. He didn't sit down. Instead, he started moving through the room, his eyes scanning the smoke detector, the back of the television, and the gap under the nightstand.
"Roman, what are you doing?" I whispered. I stood by the door with my hood still pulled low over my face. My hands were shaking so hard I had to shove them into my pockets.
"Checking," he muttered. He checked the seal on the window and pulled the heavy, yellowed curtains shut until not even a sliver of the parking lot neon could get in. "Just stay back from the window."
He finally stopped, but he didn't l
