She set the bag back on the table and pulled out the leather pouch. Only a flicker of surprise flashed through Liam’s eyes before he shielded his expression again.
Rachel plucked free the fake identifications that Sunny had given her, ones for a husband and wife. She prayed the grainy photos would pass muster. The dim lighting was in their favor.
“Here’s my driver’s license from our home state of Oregon. And here’s my husband’s identification as well. Phil and Audrey Franklin. On the bed over there are our family pets, Disco and Fang.”
Liam glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.
She babbled on nervously, while Officer Vogel flipped the IDs over. “Phil didn’t have gray hairs yet in this photo, but he had the picture made back when he was using that Grecian Formula because he was worried about losing his masculinity.”
Choking on a cough, Liam scratched the back of his neck.
She forged ahead. “And what do you know? All we really needed was a vacation in Florida and some naughty fantasies.”
Frowning, Vogel passed the pair of IDs back to her. “These actually appear to be in order. You two should really be more careful. Places like this aren’t the safest. People usually come here to find something bad or hide from something even worse. Understand, ma’am?”
“Completely.”
“And Mr. Franklin, next time, just pretend to pick her up in a nice hotel bar and get a room, preferably one that sports clean sheets, okay? Protect your wife like a good husband.”
“Will do, Officer,” Liam answered, tight-lipped. He closed and locked the door. He flattened his hands on the frame.
His back expanded with a deep sigh before he turned around to face her again. “Wanna tell me what’s going on with our IDs, Mrs. Franklin?”
***
Liam took in Rachel’s tousled hair and plumped lips. She looked like a woman who’d been doing exactly what they had been doing five minutes ago.
Or rather, what they’d almost done before the cop interrupted.
Anger churned in his gut with an emotion he hadn’t felt in so long he almost didn’t recognize it. Fear. Fear for Rachel set his stomach burning with acid. “Well? Anything to say?”
“Should we leave now?”
He considered it. Then shook his head. “If we bolt, Officer Vogel might think we have something to hide, and the less he thinks about us, the better. Then there’s that television crew. We’re better off staying here for now.”
“I can see that… Mr. Franklin.” Her mouth twitched again.
“You’ve got a warped sense of humor, Mrs. Franklin.”
Rachel stood toe-to-toe with him, sexy and seemingly unaffected by how close they’d been to deep, deep trouble. “Liam, you’re not going to stare me down with that grim ‘I’m in charge’ face, so take it down a notch.”
Grim? Grim? He wasn’t grim. He was the fun guy, the team’s cool CRO, the one who made people laugh and unified a group. Or rather he had been until about six months ago, when someone had kicked the props out from under his world.
“Then how about some answers, Rachel? What’s up with the Franklin family fake IDs, and is there anything else in that bag I should know about?” Needing distance from the draw of her, the need to pull her close and safe, he placed his weapon on the table beside her backpack. “Keep in mind, I do not like being lied to.”
Really didn’t like it, especially after marriage number two.
“Sunny gave me the extra identification, just in case.” She passed the pouch to him. “There was no need to tell you unless we needed it. Which we did.”
He thumbed the well-worn leather. “And that’s all?”
“That’s it.” She crossed her arms, which plumped her bra-less br**sts against the snug T-shirt. “Come on, Liam, you have to admit what happened with Officer Vogel would be funny any other time.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Maybe you need to.” She flattened her hands to his chest. “This will make for a great bar story some day. Maybe you’ll even get a new call sign out of it… like John, perhaps.”
He bit back the urge to laugh, humor battling with anger.