Free Seduced by the Enemy (Blaze, 41) by Jamie Denton Page B

guided her out the window.
    As soon as she was on the ground and steady, he had the window closed and the screen back in place while she stepped into her shoes. He bent to retrieve the duffel bag and her briefcase, then went completely still.
    Peyton frowned as he reached for her hand and pulled her down beside him. She looked ahead, toward the entrance of the alley, and spotted the headlights of an approaching vehicle.
    â€œStay low, don’t move, and for God’s sake, don’t make a sound,” he ordered quietly.
    She wanted to ask him why they didn’t try to find a place to hide. They were in an alley, and large trash receptacles and wooden crates were more than plentiful.
    Crouched down and pressed against the wall, she felt exposed, even if they were hidden in the shadows. She struggled to keep her breathing even so as to make as little noise as possible. Panic gripped her the second the car turned on a spotlight, telling her without a doubt the cops were indeed looking for them. She had no idea if the officer pounding on the door had entered the motel room, or if the patrolman slowly coming toward them was the same guy. In her mind, what did it matter? Just the fact that she was a wanted woman was enough to have her scared witless.
    The definite chill of the fall-night air nipped at her legs, hands and face. The warmth of the sultry Indian summer that had blanketed the area for the past few days had finally passed, leaving her cold and miserable. The patrolman continued to drive slowly in their direction. The spotlight shone somewhere above their heads, probably at waist or shoulder height, she guessed. Moonlight slashed through the alley, but thankfully, because of the angle, didn’t reach the pavement or bottom half of the wall where they were crouched.
    Another three feet and he’d be directly in front of them.
    Two feet.
    She tucked her head near Jared’s shoulder and started a silent litany of every novena Sister Patricia had taught the girls of the Biddeford Home. The prayers ran together in her mind, one drifting into another at the speed of light.
    Twelve inches!
    The spotlight flashed above them. Peyton held her breath, waiting for them to be discovered. Her calves burned in pain and trembled from the added pressure caused by the angle of her feet, thanks to her shoes, not to mention the cold making her toes and fingers numb.
    The patrolman drove past them without stopping.
    The urge to expel a huge sigh of relief overwhelmed her, but she resisted with every ounce of willpower in her arsenal, lest she be heard.
    The two of them remained crouched against the wall as the patrolman continued to drive farther down the alley. How long Jared planned for them to stay hidden in the shadows, she hadn’t a clue, but she certainly hoped she could shift her feet and at least get the blood flowing through her limbs again soon. She didn’t know how much longer she could remain in such an uncomfortable position.
    A slash of light above them cut across the alley. Someone was in the bathroom they’d just left. Her grip on Jared’s arm tightened. The patrolman searching the alley with his spotlight might not have seen them, thanks to the angle of the moonlight, but if thecops inside opened the window and looked down, they were as sure as caught.
    Jared shook his head with the least amount of movement possible, whether trying to convey that he believed everything was going to be all right or to keep her quiet for a little while longer, she couldn’t guess. Taking the safest and most comforting route possible, she opted for a dual meaning.
    The patrolman stopped in front of a stack of wooden crates, flashing his spotlight over the area and bringing the light down to shine upon the lower section of the wall. At least now she understood why Jared hadn’t tried to dive behind the discarded crates.
    Not only were her calves still screaming in protest, but the muscles in the back of