headache.
Finally, Jackson turned onto the side street
near the hostel and pulled into an empty parking spot. He fed the
meter a few dollars to get the maximum three hours. The car would
either be ticketed or towed once the time ran out, but he didn’t
care.
He'd bought it from a roadside sale in the
country, meaning he stole a "For Sale" car and left the cash in
their mailbox in an envelope. Then he switched the plates with
another car in case the owners reported it stolen.
Opening the back passenger side door, he
leaned in and hauled the woman into a sitting position. At least
with the late hour, most people were either in bed or at the clubs.
No one was around to notice him carrying her into the hostel.
Slamming the door with his hip, he used the fob to lock the car. No
need to have his emergency stash stolen.
Making his way unnoticed to his quarters, he
opened the door and gently laid the woman on the twin bed - the
only bed - in the room. He hadn’t expected company when he paid in
advance for this place. Once he had her tucked her and comfortable,
he left the room, locked the door and verified the wards were in
place. He had a misdirection ward set up to stop tracking spells,
along with a few others. Soon the Enforcers would realize they were
missing one of their own and he didn’t want them breaking down his
door. Satisfied everything was intact, he hurried off to gather his
emergency supplies.
Chapter Three
JULIA WOKE WITH a
pounding headache. This situation was becoming all too familiar and
it ticked her off. She didn’t audition for the role of the helpless
maiden. Growing up, she disdained stories of princesses and their
chronic need for a man to save them.
This ended now.
She turned her head, expecting the forest and
instead saw plain white walls. Her hands sunk into a thin blanket,
not grass and dirt. Dipping her chin to her chest, a hideous blue
and brown patterned blanket covered her. A lumpy mattress cushioned
her body and when she moved, it squeaked in protest.
Fighting off the panic rearing its nasty and
unprofessional head, she flung back the blanket and sat up. A bit
of dizziness assaulted her and she hoped standing wouldn’t be an
issue. Worry gnawed at her. Did anyone know where she was? What
plans did Jackson have for her?
A complication. A burden. An unknown
element.
At best, he would drop her off somewhere and
disappear. At worst... oh damn, she didn’t want to think about
that. A demon trafficker, capable of anything. She needed an escape
plan.
Her eyes roamed the room. On the small side,
it was an open area similar to a bachelor apartment. To her left,
an open door showing the sink and part of the toilet. Both white
and basic. The sink was the pedestal type, no extra cabinet space
underneath.
Across from the bed near the main door, a
kitchenette with a small section visible through the doorway. The
wall blocked her view of the fridge and stove. At least, she
assumed it came equipped with the major appliances. The wooden
cabinets lining the upper and lower areas gave it a homier
appearance. It didn’t match the rest of the cold, impersonal
room.
Right of the bed, past a small nightstand,
stood a tiny kitchen table and three chairs; one edge of the table
pushed against the wall. Perhaps that was the reason for odd number
of chairs. Or maybe a drunken brawl destroyed it. The tiny room
brought to mind a starving student's budget, loud parties and rowdy
nights.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed,
she disregarded the sharp sting in her ankle. She stood and
crumpled to the floor when the pain became impossible to ignore.
She yelped as she fell, unable to contain the involuntary cry.
The door flung open, banged against the wall,
and Jackson filled the entry. Wary, he assessed the room and slowly
closed the door behind him. Relaxing a little, he tossed a duffle
bag to the side of the door when no immediate danger presented
itself. He prowled to the kitchenette and bathroom,