Priceless

to be prepared to face down the rogue Coven and, on top of that, avoid the pack that was probably setting up camp at my house, waiting for us to get back. And that’s where all my gear was.
    I stopped at the first hotel we came to, one I’d used a few times in the past. Running in, I booked a room in under three minutes. The fear that the pack would be on us if I left Alex by himself was strong, even though they didn’t appear to be following us anymore, I wasn’t taking any chances. Losing one friend in any given day was enough for me, particularly considering how few I had. Room key card in hand, I drove the Jeep into the underground parking, a large sheeted metal door closing behind us. Now the trick was going to be getting Alex into the room without being seen.
    “Come on, we’ve got some flights to run up.”
    Alex gave a soft woof, his tail wagging as the flight from his rampaging pack mates was already forgotten.
    Using the stairwell, keeping a hand on Alex’s collar, we sprinted up the three flights with no problem. Peeking into the carpeted hotel hallway from the stairwell, I could see our room was at the far end. “Ready?”
    He bobbed his head. “Yup.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh, and for that alone, he was worth the pain in my ass he caused with all his pack issues. Sprinting again, we ran to our room, the key card in my hand and sliding through the lock before I’d come to a full stop, which meant we slammed through the door in a heap. Alex laughed and tried to start a wrestling match with me.
    “Nope, not right now,” I said, pushing him off me, the scratches on my arms a reminder of how lucky I was to be immune.
    Flicking on the TV, I said, “You stay here, be quiet. I’ll be right back.” Alex ignored me as he leapt onto the king-sized bed and flopped down facing the TV.
    Two trips later, I had brought up my overnight bag as well as a range of weapons from my Jeep. No way was I going anywhere else without them. For that matter, I was going to sleep in my flak jacket.
    Next on the list was finding that mineshaft.
    I dialed in Kyle’s number from memory, hoping my little hacker was still up. A groggy hello answered the phone.
    “Kyle, can you look up mineshafts for me around here?”
    “Hello to you too, Rylee,” he grumbled. A shuffling of papers and then I could hear him typing on the keyboard. “Lots of mineshafts, anything in particular?”
    “Deep ones, two hundred feet or better,” I said, switching the channels to a local news station.
    “Only four that deep that I can find. Mines are deeper, but you just want the shaft?” His voice became clearer the longer we spoke.
    “Yes. Send it here. I gotta go.”
    I gave him the hotel’s fax number and hung up, not wanting to stay on longer than we had to and chance either a tap or a power failure due to my proximity. Plopping the phone back into its cradle, I stared at the TV. It was the main story that caught my eyes.
    “FBI AGENT KILLS PARTNER IN COLD-BLOODED MURDER, THEN ESCAPES.”
    “You’re in deep shit now, O’Shea,” I said.
    “Gun man in trouble?” Alex’s voice picked up in intensity.
    I stroked his head, soothing him. “Maybe.”
    The news reporter came on, her voice pitched all wrong for TV. The gist of it was that on transport, O’Shea (though they didn’t name him) overpowered his guards and stole the unmarked car following the police cruiser he was in. The pictures looked like a bomb had gone off, like some high-end movie production chase scene had gone horribly wrong. Cars flipped over, debris everywhere, not to mention the people gawking at the edges of the scene as the helicopter flew overhead.
    “Who do you think you are, O’Shea? Schwarzenegger?”
    I turned the TV off. He was on his own now; I’d offered him help and he’d turned it down, stupid man.
    Leaving Alex in the room, I took the elevator down to the lobby to see if Kyle had faxed me the info yet. The clerk, the same flustered young woman who’d booked me in, went all wide-eyed when I said I had a fax coming in.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, we can’t do that.”
    “Too late, I’ve already given him the number and if you didn’t want people sending in faxes it shouldn’t be on the welcome card.” I flopped down said welcome pamphlet on the high counter that made me feel like a little kid even in heeled boots.
    Tight blond curls bounced as she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, we can’t . . .” a beeping noise interrupted her. Bless