Right Where She Belongs

Chapter Twenty-Six

[Caleb's P.O.V]

 The sleek black Escalade zipped down the highway at alarming speed. I kept a tight grip on Adrian's hand, my eyes glued to the back of the seat in front of me. I could make out the bulging muscles of the man as he steered the wheel, but not much else apart from his gleaming bald head. He hadn't said a word yet; no one had. Anxiety levels were high, perfuming the air in the confined car.

 If someone told me just this morning that I'd be riding in a strangers car, Dallas and Adrian by my side, on a mission to go rescue two of my friends from kidnappers, I would never have believed them - might have even socked them for even suggesting it. 

But here we were, all in different stages of handling our emotions.

Dallas sat in the passenger seat, his eyes fixated on the road. They were narrowed dangerously, his fists occasionally clenching and relaxing, as if he were trying to regain some control of the vicious thoughts circling his head. He looked ready to fight, to battle through a whole army if he had to. Hell, even the tear drop tattoo beneath his eye twitched menacingly.

To say the least he looked like one scary bastard.

Adrian, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to puke. Her usually delicate pale skin had taken a slightly yellow hue. A film of perspiration coated her forehead, her sharp finger nails digging into the palm of my hand, leaving little indention's on my skin, but I didn't care. Her brown eyes were large, staring unblinkingly at the back of Dallas's seat, plucked brows creased. Her plump lips were parted and slightly chapped from her incessant worrying them. Her chin quivered slightly and I knew she was holding back tears even though her eyes were dry. 

My heart ached at seeing her in so much pain. My whole goal was to take away that pain, yet, here she was, agony twisting her expressions. 

We just can't win.

"We're here," the deep baritone of the stranger broke through the silence. My body jerked and I felt Adrian jump at the sound of his voice. We exchanged wary looked before glancing out of the dark tinted windows.

It was a little broken down motel, the kind of place you'd expect an ex-military man to hold his uber-secret search-and-rescue missions. There were three other cars in the parking lot, though none of them were as grand as the Escalade.

"Let's go," Dallas barked, hopping out of the car and slamming it behind him. A second later we all followed. 

The stranger kept his back to us as he pulled the motel room keys from his navy cargo pants. In the sunlight, his bold head glinted reflectively and I actually had to squint my eyes to block the blinding glimmer. His back and broad and rippled with muscle with each of his movements, emphasized by his tight black top. His combat boots thunked against the ground, but I somehow knew that, when it would count, his steps could be lighter than Adrian's.

Paint peeled from the fading doors. The numbers and letters imprinted on the doors were barely legible, the pavement littered with days old food wrappings and empty coke cans. I saw Adrian's nose crinkle and could practically hear her thoughts.

Who the hell would want to stay in a place like this?

Without breaking stride, the ex-military buff inserted the keys into the third door that read A12 and yanked the door open. I was honestly surprised when the door didn't rip off it's hinges.

The inside was in no better condition than outside. The floral bed spreads were stained and clearly unwashed, the carpet splattered with the telling signs of cheap make-up, Cheetos, dirt tracks and...gag...a used condom in the corner beside the single bedside table.