Ronan

I kissed the top of Willow’s head.

Her eyes had gone blank, and while I hadn’t been able to hear Tom’s side of the conversation, I got the gist of it from her responses. He’d turned her down. Damn him for making her feel as though she wasn’t worth his pride.

I turned to Zeke. “Did we get a trace?”

He studied the screen. “He’s at the Alton Motel. Not sure what room. You’ll have to figure that out when you get there.”

“Got it. Thanks, man.” I held out a hand and pulled Willow to her feet. When she was upright, I planted a kiss on her mouth. “We’ll fix this,” I promised.

“Be safe.” She stretched onto her tiptoes to kiss me again. “I need you to come back.”

“I will.” Reluctantly, I let her go. “Kade, you ready?”

“Fuck yeah.” He was practically bristling for the chance to get Tom alone. Kade didn’t like men who hurt women. Even if it wasn’t physically.

He really didn’t like them.

Twenty minutes later, we cruised up to the Alton Motel in one of the cars that Kade’s team used for undercover work. I parked, and we locked it behind us. The motel was run-down. Based on the number of cars in the lot, it was mostly empty.

We headed to the reception area and found the desk unsupervised. I slipped behind it and flipped through the pages of the notebook beside the ancient computer. It seemed to be a log of which rooms were in use, along with nom de plumes for the occupants. I reached the newest page and saw that one Mr. Gatsby had checked in yesterday. I doubted this motel saw many high rollers, so the receptionist may as well have written “Tom Lennox is here.”

I shut the notebook and ducked out from behind the desk. “Room eight.”

Kade nodded, and we made our way down the corridor, moving carefully in case any of Tom’s enemies had also tracked him down.

We reached the room, and I tested the door handle.

Locked.

I hadn’t expected anything else. Tom was running for his life, so he wouldn’t be careless.

I jerked my head toward the door and stepped back so Kade could do his thing. He shoulder-barged the wood. The flimsy lock snapped. He darted inside, gun raised. A bullet tore through the wall to my left, two inches from my shoulder, and I zeroed in on Tom, who was sheltering behind the bathroom door.

“Lennox,” I barked, knowing he probably thought it was the men he owed, come to collect. “It’s King.”

Tom swore. “You traced the phone call.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He’d have realized it sooner if he were thinking clearly. “Come out and put the weapon down.”

The gun appeared around the edge of the bathroom door, and he lowered it to the floor. Kade strode forward and snatched it up, then Tom exited the bathroom with his hands held high.