But before Magnus could slip out, Trey pushed him up against the wall and kissed him again. He lingered longer than before, the razor-sharp edge now dulled.
“I look forward to you payin’ me back for that later,” Magnus whispered against his mouth.
Trey pulled back, grinned. “You’re not the only one.”
He let Magnus leave the room ahead of him, then waited a couple of minutes. He glanced down to ensure his clothes weren’t askew, then when he figured the coast was clear, Trey stepped out.
It took effort not to smile.
More so not to think about when they were going to have a chance to do that again.
*
The one-hour flight was uneventful, allowing Reese to catch a few minutes of sleep when Brantley did. He figured Brantley’s reasons had more to do with his training than anything. He’d once mentioned, during his time with the Teams, they were forced to catch sleep when they could during missions. A skill that was obviously still ingrained in him.
When they touched down, they found Decker Bromwell waiting.
“This is the best I could do,” Deck informed them, gesturing toward a ten-year-old Ford Taurus, a seen-better-days Honda Odyssey, and what had probably once been a relatively nice BMW.
“If you were goin’ for inconspicuous, you did good,” Brantley told him.
“And if you were goin’ for reliable, you probably failed miserably,” Baz noted.
“They run,” Deck assured them. “Maybe not for long, but they’ll get the job done.”
Reese was betting they’d crap out sooner rather than later, but for now, they would do. No one expected them to be here long, so if they were lucky, it wouldn’t matter.
“Do we know where she was last seen?” Brantley asked, accepting a set of keys from Deck.
“We’ve got one sighting of her at the Starbucks, another nearby. Two different days.”
“So it’s safe to assume she’s stayin’ somewhere around there?”
“There’s not much ground to cover, to be honest. She could be stayin’ anywhere, including on South Padre for all we know.”
“We’re gonna assume she’s here,” Reese told him. “And we’re gonna do a grid search accordingly. There’s six of us. We go door to door, business to business. Someone’s seen her. It’s just a matter of gettin’ to her before she realizes we’re here.”
“Baz and Deck, y’all can start from the south, work your way north,” Brantley instructed. “Trey and Magnus, work west to east. We’ll take north to south, meet somewhere in the middle.”
Reese opened his go-bag, pulled out a sealed plastic bag, and passed it to Magnus. “We were able to get some of Juliet’s things. If you’re lucky, that’ll have her scent.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Magnus said, taking the bag. “Adira’s my best, so if she can be tracked, she’ll find her.”
Reese hoped that was the case. He honestly wanted this to be over.
While they were standing in the parking lot at the private airstrip, another plane came in for a landing, this one smaller than the one they’d come in on.
“Just FYI, this isn’t a busy place,” Deck noted. “I’ve been here for two hours and there’ve been no other planes in or out.”
Now there were two in a short time.
“No sense in stickin’ around to see who it is,” Brantley said, glancing at Reese.
Reese agreed. If that happened to be someone sent by Max Adorite, it would be best for them to hit the ground running. Even a few minutes in front of them might help.
Still, he kept his eyes on the plane as they piled into the cars and drove away. No one exited and they didn’t pass any vehicles sent to pick up a passenger. Maybe he was overthinking this. It was possible the plane was coming to pick someone up, take them to their destination.
“Let’s focus on the task at hand,” Brantley said. “We can’t control what Max Adorite does.”
“You’re right.”
“Plus, we should have a couple of hours on him.”
Reese didn’t bother to mention Max wouldn’t be the one flying down here. They wouldn’t be waiting for someone coming from Dallas. Knowing Max, he would call in a favor from someone local. Perhaps someone in Mexico.
For all they knew, that person could already be there.
*
Brantley wasted no time heading for the most populated places. He figured if they did end up going house to house, that would be their last resort. For now he wanted to focus on the businesses, mainly restaurants and motels.
He steered the BMW into the first motel they saw, pulling into a spot near the main office.
It was a single-story setup, probably two dozen rooms if he had to guess. There were a couple of cars and one motorcycle parked in spaces in front of the rooms, but other than that, the parking lot was empty. He saw no one, only a housekeeping cart stopped outside the first room behind the office structure.
Brantley walked into the motel office, leaving Reese to keep an eye out in the parking lot.
“Welcome,” a man with thinning hair and a bushy gray beard greeted. “What can I help you with?”
Brantley held up the picture of Juliet Prince, pressed it to the plexiglass barrier. “Have you seen this woman?”
The man leaned in to get a better look, squinting. He didn’t bother to put on the glasses that were dangling around his neck.
“She looks familiar,” he said, still staring.
“She’s probably changed her hair color, maybe cut it.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod, standing tall once more. “Sure. That could be Mary Smith.”
Mary Smith? Very original, Juliet.
Before the man could elaborate, the phone on his desk rang.
“Excuse me a minute,” the man said, turning to snatch the receiver up.
Brantley glanced around, looking out the windows as a Ford truck was pulling into the lot. He couldn’t make out the driver as it puttered past, coughing black smoke in its wake.
“Sorry ’bout that,” the manager said.
Brantley turned back around. “You said this might be Mary Smith,” he prompted.
“Oh, right. Yes. But her hair’s red now. Pretty shade, too.” The man smiled, revealing a missing left incisor. “You’re the second person whose been in here lookin’ for her today.”
Second?
Brantley sighed. “Do you have a description of the other guy?”
“Mexican fellow. Tattoos. Didn’t speak much English.” The man looked skeptical when he asked, “Are you with the police?”
“No, sir. I’m with a private investigation firm.”
“And what do you want with Mary?”
Brantley figured telling him the woman was wanted for murder could send him into a panic, so he opted for another logical explanation. “Her family hired us to find her.” He added some sympathy to his tone. “They’re worried.”
That was the right way to go based on the way the man’s face softened somewhat. “She does look sad sometimes. Probably misses them, too.”
Because they were wasting time and Brantley didn’t want to risk Juliet seeing them, he urged the man for more information. “Can you tell me what room she’s stayin’ in?”