There was a rental car facility located in one of the more elaborate hotels that was in walking distance of the townhouse. For that, Lyle was eternally grateful. He’d had it in his head that they were going to have to go back to the airport, whether Rafe liked the idea or not. Luckily, DC was no Wolf, or even Sheridan for that matter, and there’d been a dozen little red circles on his laptop when Lyle had Googled for rental cars.
“It’s my father’s,” Lyle had said when he’d dropped the credit card on the desk in front of the girl at the rental desk. For some reason, he’d been sure she was going to tell him to go f**k himself, that she might even call the credit card to report ‘suspicious activity’ and that the police would soon follow.
But be it something as simple as the clerk being bore
