Free Operation Willow Quest by Karlene Blakemore-Mowle Page A

man, noticing the envelope he held in his hand which he extended toward
her. With numb fingers, she reached out, murmuring a “thank you”, as she stared
uncertainly at the package in her hand. Her name was scrawled across it. The
door slid shut in front of the hotel concierge’s beaming face and Willow sought out Del’s
gaze with a small hopeful smile. Noting the lack of postage stamps on the
yellow envelope, she realised someone must have
delivered it.
    “You have got to be kidding me. If that’s what
I think it is—we risked our necks to break into an office looking for something
that was at the front desk the whole time,” Del growled.
    Willow went to rip open the
package but Del
caught her hand and shook his head. “Wait,” he told her, his stare fixed on the
numbers above the door as they counted their way up.
    As the door closed behind them inside the room,
Del turned to
face her and she couldn’t help the relieved smile which broke out across her
face as she stared back at him. “How does it feel to be a felon?” he asked, as
he returned her grin.
    “Terrible,” she lied, unable to wipe the smile
from her face. They stared at one another until with an impulsive action she
leant forward and kissed him quickly. “Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly feeling
shy and awkward.
    “Any time,” he said in a slow drawl that curled
her toes and made her heart throb painfully.
    “I don’t think there’ll be a second time—my
heart wouldn’t stand the excitement.”
    “Are you going to open that thing now, or
what?” he prompted, glancing down at the envelope.
    She was giddy with relief—for a moment she’d forgotten
all about the package she held in her hand. Crossing the room, she tore it open
and emptied the contents onto the bed. A small memory stick fell out, and Willow withdrew a piece of
folded paper.
    Del moved closer and
reached out to pick up the memory stick, rubbing his thumb across the plastic
object thoughtfully.
    Willow gave a murmur in her
throat, still reading. “Terry says here that he sent me copies of the information
he was going to hand in to authorities…” She paused, pushing away the tightness
in her chest.
    Del walked across the room
to the window.
    “We need to see what’s on these,” muttered Willow.
    “Not just yet,” he said, “get your gear, we’re
leaving.”
    She stared at him, concerned by the rough
urgency in his voice. “What?”
    “Grab whatever you have and let’s go. The
police just pulled up out the front and I don’t think it’s a social visit.”
    She grabbed her computer and suitcase, already
packed in anticipation of their departure, and followed Del out of the room. As she reached out to
press the button to call the lift, Del’s
hand shot out and stopped her. “We’ll take the stairs.”
    Sparing him a wary glance, she followed him
silently. His soldier mask was back in place and she felt a slight tremor of
fear scuttle down her spine at its appearance.
    He carried her suitcase
easily in one hand and his own luggage in the other, while she followed behind
with her laptop and handbag. Their footsteps echoed eerily on the staircase as
they made their way down to the ground floor, stopping when they reached the
lobby level, where Del
carefully looked out. “Damn,” he whispered under his breath. Easing the door
closed, he turned, heading back up to the level above. Going through the door,
he set off in a jog and Willow
hurried to keep up until they reached a door at the end opening on to a narrow
staircase leading down.
    “Where does this go?”
    “It’s a service entrance,” he told her briskly.
The silence was nerve-racking compared to the echo of the fire escape
stairwell. As they moved along the long corridor they passed several doors and Willow realised they were back down behind the restaurant and
reception area. Opening a door on the right, Del looked out once more and seeing the
coast was clear, beckoned her to follow. They walked