The Kendall Family: Riley Part 3

It didn't take long to reach a narrow trail, b.u.mpy with mostly-buried rocks the size of a turkey everywhere underfoot. This required a certain amount of watching their step to avoid twisting an ankle, but the Kendalls had been climbing all over this mountain since they were kids. Both of them were in good shape and easily ascended nearly a thousand feet toward the first parking area. They pa.s.sed other hikers more often as they neared the top, since that's where most people started hiking from.

"Good thing that case you're carrying isn't shaped like a usual one," Kris remarked as they neared one of several lookout points for sightseers, where the first parking area lay.

Riley nodded. "No surprise. I use a rectangular one in urban areas, too, so it's less obvious what I'm carrying." Other rifle cases sloped along one side in such a way that anyone who recognized that would realize what he carried.

The trail widened and opened into a cleared area where pine needles littered the ground among a handful of widely s.p.a.ced picnic tables, a trash bin, and a board telling people about Sugarloaf Mountain. Pulling out the car key, Riley approached the two rows of parked cars just beyond, his eyes on the lookout for a Ford. Each time he saw one, he pressed the key fob, but none of the cars reacted.

"Up there," Kris suggested, nodding at a dozen cars parked around the corner. Like all mountain roads, this one twisted back and forth. Since the lot was full on this warm summer day, some people had elected to park on the winding road. The siblings walked through the stand of trees separating them and on the first click of the fob, the lights on a white Mustang convertible flashed in the growing dusk.

"Interesting choice of cars," Kris remarked, heading that way.

"Wasn't expecting that," he agreed, more intrigued by Jordan. A sniper usually tried to keep a low profile, but a convertible attracted attention. Adopting a casual demeanor, he unlatched the roof and pressed the b.u.t.ton to open the top, which peeled back to cast full sunlight on the black interior. Nothing but a water bottle. Kris opened the glove box and arm rest but saw nothing in either.

"Trunk?" Kris asked, moving toward it.

"Almost certainly," he said, pressing the trunk release b.u.t.ton on the fob.

She got there first and lifted the lid. And there sat a small black backpack. Riley poked it with the rifle bag on the off chance it was b.o.o.by-trapped, but nothing happened and he dumped the gun into the trunk, hauling out the little bag. To be discreet, he closed the trunk and suggested they sit in the car. Sitting in the driver's seat, he began going through the bag, which had some spare clothes, a knife, rope, more ammo, and her purse. The latter held what Riley thought of as the usual girl stuff, but what interested him was the intel.

"Virginia license," he noted out loud. "A place in Fairfax. Probably a UPS Store box."

Kris furrowed her brow. "What makes you say that?"

"I doubt she'd list somewhere she actually stays."

"Could be a post office box."

Riley shook his head. "Some places don't accept one on paperwork because they want a residence. For the post office, you have to indicate it's a post office box, but at a UPS Store you can use something like Suite 123 instead of Box 123. It's the same s.h.i.+t but fools government agencies and other places into thinking it's your residence or place of business."

She made a sound. "Didn't know that."

"Name's a fake." He handed her the license while looking through the purse more.

"Julia Thomas, age 25, 5' 9", 140 pounds."

"Hotel key." He put it on the dash.

Kris picked it up. "Doesn't say which Hilton."

"The one on Perry Parkway in Gaithersburg."

She shot him a disbelieving look. "How do you know that?"

"Used her smartphone to get into her bank accounts and saw the transaction."

She pursed her lips in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Clever, Riley. Now I know why you're running security for all of us."

"Because I like beating up people."

Kris laughed. None of their businesses required head bas.h.i.+ng, though sometimes the wet T-s.h.i.+rt contests at Kendall Motorsports got out of hand.

"Okay, the car rental agreement is here and a bogus car insurance thing, since it has the same fake name on it. Nothing useful. Her real stuff's probably all at the hotel."

"What are you hoping to find?"

"Pa.s.sport, at the least. Luggage."

"Why pa.s.sport? She came from outside the U.S.?"

He filled her in and then took the key. "It's too bad modern hotel keys don't have a number on them like the old days." He started the car to drive back to his house, flipping on the headlights.

"I guess it would look suspicious if we tried every door."

Riley nodded as he pulled the car out and began driving, keeping to the speed limit at fifteen mph. He hadn't brought his wallet and being pulled over with a rifle in the back wouldn't be smart, not that cops were up here much. "Yeah, I'm sure the hotel security guards would stop us in a few minutes."

She held up the license. "You know, based on this picture, I could pretend to be her and just say I have my key but forgot the room number. We look similar enough, since her hair is partly in her face here. Surprised the DMV let her get away with that."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. What's the worst that could happen? Besides, I can't let someone shoot at my baby brother and get away with it."

"Then let's go."

Kris radioed Quinn with the details and said they'd be back in an hour. She and Riley had already discussed pretending they weren't together once at the hotel. The tall building loomed over a Sam's Club and Toys-R-Us. Kris entered first and approached the clerk, doing a good enough job of acting casual so that she was given the room number on presenting the key and the ID. The clerk wanted the credit card used but Kris guessed, correctly, that a debit card had been used instead. She flashed Jordan's, hoping she wouldn't need to prove the PIN. It worked. Riley stood nearby eavesdropping and drinking a cup of the coffee the hotel provided free to guests, but he headed for the stairwell on hearing the number, while Kris took the elevator. Minutes later, they met at the brown door to room 432.

"Wait outside a minute," said Riley, exchanging his coffee for the key in her hand, "just in case."

"Be careful."

No one else was in the hallway, so he pulled out his gun, unlocked the door and pushed it open an inch. He peeked around the door, and went inside. A glance told him the place was empty. He looked into the bathroom next to him and saw no one, so he let Kris in and they began searching all of the drawers, finding everything empty. They ignored the lone Samsonite suitcase in one corner until Riley decided nothing else remained for searching. He put it on the bed and fished a key out of Jordan's backpack, which Kris had brought inside, but the key wouldn't open it.

"What about the combination?" Kris asked, seeing the tumblers.

"Easier to open than you might think," Riley replied. He took the suitcase to a table near the window, throwing the curtains wide for more light. Kneeling, he looked into the narrow gap between the combination wheels, rotating one of them until he saw a notch in the wheel line up with a mark outside the lock. He did the same with the other two tumblers and slid the latch. It opened.

"Where the h.e.l.l did you learn how to do that?" Kris asked, impressed.

Riley just winked and opened the suitcase. "Call Quinn and tell him we'll be on the way in a minute."

She pursed her lips but did as he asked, stepping to the window and looking out.

The Marine pulled aside the sweat pants, thongs, bras, and various T-s.h.i.+rts to find Jordan's pa.s.sport, real ID, a second smartphone, plus the usual girly stuff, though his hand did close around one thing he wasn't expecting. On pulling it from under a s.h.i.+rt, he felt relieved Kris had her back turned. The purple d.i.l.d.o was rather large but didn't quite measure up to himself. He was certainly looking forward to showing it to Jordan and seeing how beautiful she'd look, buck naked and flushed with embarra.s.sed fury. He got hard just thinking about it.

"She's claiming she has to pee," Kris advised him, hanging up on Quinn and turning back to him. He quickly tugged a T-s.h.i.+rt over the d.i.l.d.o.

"She can wait a bit longer."

"Find anything interesting?"

He smirked but said, "Pa.s.sport and real ID. She's living in France. Real name Jordan Hunt."

"Appropriate."

Closing the suitcase, he said, "Yeah. No return ticket. We'll take this with us. I want you to carry it and check out. Just pay whatever the bill is and I'll pay you later."

"No need."

They left and went separate ways to the car. He needed to grill Jordan harder to find out what she knew. He'd never really tortured anyone, just beaten the h.e.l.l out of a few guys, but the thought of actually hurting her caused a pang. He couldn't do it, he knew, and if he didn't keep himself in check, she'd know it, too.

He wasn't the only one exposing himself. The nudity had shown him things about Jordan he wouldn't otherwise know. She could pretend all she wanted, but if there was one thing Riley Kendall knew, it was when he turned a woman on. With a smirk, he started the car as Kris got in. Then he peeled out and headed back home to his captive beauty, dimly aware that he might be the one caught in her machinations instead of the other way around.

Chapter 5 Bluffing.

The peacefulness of Riley's house belied the violence that had led to Jordan lying nude with her eyes closed on his guest bed, wrists and ankles bound with handcuffs to the bed posts, sheets and a comforter covering almost every nubile inch. Outside the half-open bedroom door, his brother Quinn sat quietly with two dogs. She'd given up on trying to get him to do or say much. Either he was too smart to get involved any further or Riley had good control over his elder brother.

Thoughts of the Marine made her tremble with antic.i.p.ation of his return, which in turn irritated her. Was it fear? A little. He'd find the rifle, she was sure, and likely the car, and from there, her hotel key, but he'd never get inside her room and find the pa.s.sport. Even that wouldn't reveal much more than her last name. He already knew everything she wouldn't directly tell him.

Still, he had the smartphone. It had never occurred to her that she might be captured, her own fingerprint used to open the device. She'd become lazy in her time as a freelance operative, the freedom from official restrictions causing a lapse in preparations. Disappointment in herself had made Riley's amus.e.m.e.nt sting that much more, and she felt only anger at the idea that she wanted to impress him.

But was that really so bad? He was easy on the eyes. And he'd handled himself-and her-pretty well. Almost too well. That moment of wanting him to manhandle her before she shot at him had come to fruition. If he ever found out what she'd been thinking, she'd turn red and he'd have no trouble telling, as she was sure he'd pull the covers down on his return. That the idea excited her a little made her teeth clench.

Jordan had to learn what Thomas had told Riley. The thought unnerved her. Thomas knew she was planning the a.s.sa.s.sination today but that was all. Had Riley claimed it was successful? Had he admitted Jordan's capture? Or reported her dead? What would Thomas do? And would anyone even care? Would her family ever find out what had happened to her? She vowed that if she got out of this, she'd never make these mistakes again.

She had to figure out a way to convince Riley to tell her about the conversation. She had nothing to offer him that he couldn't just help himself to. Heat warmed her cheeks. If he touched her the way she suspected he touched a woman, it would be Jordan who'd be volunteering intel, not Riley. It might just be worth it if he did, because he'd be the last man to have her before she rotted away in a federal prison with no one to touch her but herself. If only there was a way to convince him to let her go.

A door opened below and booted footfalls sounded on the hardwood floors downstairs, the surefootedness that of Riley, she knew. Jordan's pulse raced. Their next talk might determine her fate. At this point, life was more important than anything else. She didn't owe Thomas s.h.i.+t, and certainly not her life. Still, she wasn't giving Riley intel without something to show for it, like her freedom.

Not until the footsteps ascended the stairs did she hear Riley's familiar voice. "No trouble?" he asked Quinn.

"None."

"Why don't you split with Kris? I'll take it from here."

"What did you find?"

"Everything. She'll fill you in. You're staying close tonight?"

"I am now."

"Sorry to mess up any plans."

"Didn't have any that can't wait. I'll take the radio."

"Good idea."

Jordan listened as Quinn descended the steps, which creaked under his weight, one dog following him by the sound of it. Donning her best unimpressed look, she smirked on seeing Riley open the door slowly, those blue eyes alert and sending a jolt through her.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

He strode in, dog beside him, the rifle bag in one hand and her suitcase in the other. Jordan couldn't hide her surprise at the latter. She shot a look at his eyes, which seemed amused. She flushed angrily.

"Hi sweetheart." Riley dropped the cases, flipped on a table lamp, and came to the bed's side. "I'm home. Did you miss me?"

"Hardly."

"It didn't take long to find your rifle or the car."

"No surprise there," she said, putting on bravado to cover for being a little intimidated by just how good this guy appeared to be. That she was impressed annoyed the s.h.i.+t out of her. She was dying to know how he'd gotten into her room.

As if reading her mind, he said, "Getting into your hotel room wasn't too hard, really."

She had to ask. "How did you know which room?"

"Well, if I'm telling you secrets, maybe you should tell me something in exchange."

"Walked into that one," she muttered.

He sat on the bed, the motion pulling the covers across her nipples, which stirred to life. "Let's have the first name of the guy I was texting earlier."

"I don't want to know that badly how you got into the room. I a.s.sume you charmed the receptionist."

He smiled. "You find me that charming?"

"I didn't say that." She felt a little amused by his flirting despite the situation. If she'd had a free hand, she might've smacked herself for enjoying their banter.

"Yes, you did. Tell you what, I have a better idea." He stood up and suddenly yanked the covers down to bare her, then stood there ogling, one hand adjusting the sizeable bulge in his pants. "For every question you answer, I'll pull the covers up another foot."

"You're a p.r.i.c.k, you know that?"

"Is that a yes?"

"What makes you think I want to be covered that badly? Maybe I don't care." She arched her back, playing with fire, which is exactly what she thought smoldered behind his eyes.

"We both know I can read you pretty well when you're lying there naked."

"I think you'd manage regardless."

"Wow, a compliment. I'm beginning to think you like me."

"You mean my erect nipples weren't a clue?"

He coughed uncomfortably and she smiled. "Are you offering me something besides information?"