The next morning began with the roar of a loud engine right outside our door. The three of us had barely gotten any rest and we were all jolted wide awake by the noise.

"It's just some asshole trying to look cool while he pisses everyone off," Matt mumbled sleepily from his cozy spot in bed and pulled the covers over his face.

I sat up in bed and looked at the clock. 5:14AM. Oh, joy.

I fought the urge to go back to sleep and slid out of bed, shivering when the warmth of the blankets left my body. I started pulling on my jeans and then I went to work on replacing the bandage on my arm. The painkillers Alana had given me were a godsend since I didn't have alcohol to numb the wound's throbbing pain. I made a mental note to dress Matt's shoulder wound for him once he got his lazy ass out of bed.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and I almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at me. Disheveled, exhausted, bruised and injured. I didn't look at all like myself. Then again, I hadn't really been able to recognize myself since I'd lost Dallas anyway. I was starting to wonder if I'd ever look like my old self again.

I shrugged off the unpleasant thoughts and tried to turn my focus back to getting ready. Dallas's friend was supposed to call with where to meet him any minute now, and both Dallas and Matt were fast asleep again. I briefly entertained thoughts of blasting an air horn at them.

I'd just finished washing my face and double checking my sidearm when I heard the rumble of a second engine outside. I could hear the muffled voices of men talking and at least one man laughing obnoxiously. There was the shuffle of heavy boots against concrete, too. I paused to listen more carefully.

Something didn't feel right. Something was off.

I scurried across the room to shake Matt and Dallas awake, both of them grumbling about how displeased they were at my sudden rude awakening.

"Guys, I think something's wrong," I said in a calm voice, though I knew they could see the concern in my eyes.

Dallas hopped out of bed first, quickly slipping his jeans and vest back on. He holstered his pistol and wandered over to the window while Matt got dressed. I followed Dallas and we huddled up against the wall in the corner of the room, hidden from outside view but able to peek through the curtains.

Two jet black SUV's that looked more like Secret Service vehicles than regular SUV's were idling in the parking lot, their engines still humming an angry rumble. At least six tall, broad-shouldered men were standing between the vehicles, talking. They all wore black leather and had muscles the size of small watermelons. It was almost like Hell's Angels had suddenly made a detour to Germany.

"You think they're here for us?" I asked Dallas, keeping a close eye on their every move.

Matt walked over and gazed out the window, his head just above mine as we all crowded in the corner.

"Well, don't that look fishy," he commented in an unamused tone, and I could hear him tap his pistol, checking to make sure the safety was off.

I squinted, studying each man and counting at least four who had pistols at their side. I knew the German authorities wouldn't send people who looked like that, so I was confident these men were in cahoots with Santiago. I couldn't think of anyone else who would send their minions after us. It had to be him.

"I think we've got company," Dallas groaned. "We need to get out of here now."

Matt cocked a brow at him and crossed his arms. "And how do you propose we do that when our only exit is thirty feet from the Sons of Anarchy?"

"Don't be sarcastic with me. You didn't have to stay here," Dallas snapped back at him.

I stepped between them, placing a hand on both their chests and gently pushing them away from each other. "We're not going to do this shit right now. Let's figure out a way out of here first, and then you two can kill each other. Deal?"

They both muttered un-pleasantries under their breaths, but reluctantly agreed to hold off on their tantrums.

We each retrieved our gear and hurried to find a new exit. The motel room was small with just a tiny bathroom off to the side, but we all managed to pile into the cubicle-sized room, locking ourselves inside.

"This is ridiculous," I complained as we tried to turn around and talk to each other with our gear getting in the way.

There wasn't enough room to take a decent shower, much less have a three-person escape party. We kept accidentally hitting each other with our bags.

"Any ideas?" I looked to Dallas, who always seemed to have a plan when no one else did.

He pointed a finger up at the panel ceiling and raised his eyebrows. I knew what he was thinking.

"Do you think this ceiling can hold that much weight?" Matt questioned, eyeing the vent skeptically.

Dallas shrugged. "I'd rather find out the hard way than die in a moldy motel bathroom next to you."

Matt glared at him but didn't respond. Instead, he climbed on top of the toilet and reached up to pull on the vent cover. At first, it wouldn't budge, but after a few more seconds of applying steady pressure, the rusty metal gave way with no need for a screwdriver.

Matt handed the vent cover down to me and I set it aside in the sink. He then pushed on the ceiling panel that the vent had been in the center of, easily shoving it upward and pushing it aside. He whipped a flashlight out of his pocket and poked his head up into the gaping hole, looking around.

"What do you see?" Dallas asked from behind him.

Matt squinted and moved his light around some more. "Looks alright to me. I don't see any obstacles. I'm just not sure we can all get up there without the ceiling caving in. There's not much clearance either. It's about two and a half by three foot, at most. Maybe a little less. We'll have a tight squeeze with our gear."

"Well, we're pretty much out of options at this point, so we've got to try," I chimed in. "Let's go one at a time and get a little bit of distance in between us so we're not all weighing down on the same spot. This building is really old."

Matt and Dallas nodded in agreement and they both looked to me to go first. I knew it was because they wanted to protect me and make sure I at least got out if they didn't, but I still took the opportunity to give them a little hell over sending me up there to meet the spiders and rats first.

Matt hopped down and I stepped up onto the toilet. I wasn't as tall as him and needed to get higher to pull myself up. I put one foot on the sink and Dallas helped me to step up. Now I was close enough to look up inside the vent system.

"This is worse than Bellisario's apartment complex." I cringed at the smell of mold and rodent urine wafting down through the vents. "I'm going up here first on one condition: I get to take the first shower when we find a safe spot to stop."

"Deal," Dallas and Matt said in unison, both men managing a laugh at that.

I tried to fight through my disgust and hoisted myself up, along with the boys' help. I pulled myself into the vent and nearly choked from the strong odor.

My bag on my back banged against the side of the vent and I struggled to crawl along, barely able to fit inside.

Once I'd crawled about ten feet, I called to Dallas and Matt that I thought it was safe for one of them to come up. First came Dallas's bag, and then he lifted himself up a few seconds later with a loud grunt.

"This is not how I imagined my morning going," he complained and started scooting his bag in my direction.

"I'm not exactly on a tropical vacation either."

I watched Dallas move his bag further down the vent toward me. The closer he got, the further I crawled away, trying to keep a safe distance between us for the sake of the ceiling. I wasn't in the mood to go falling into someone else's motel bathroom any time soon. It'd be just my luck, I'd land in a bathroom while some dude was taking a shit.

"Hey, guys," Matt called to us, still in the bathroom. "I don't know if you can hear it up there, but those guys outside are trying to beat down our door."

I could hear a muffled repetitive thud coming from below. Our instincts had been correct. They were after us. But who the fuck were they working for, I wondered. Surely, it was Santiago, but there was still a little doubt in my mind. Could it be that Brit had sent them? Would she really stoop that low?

"Then get your boney ass up here," I demanded, noticing the worried look on Dallas's face as we waited for Matt.

Finally, he tossed his bag into the vent at the same time as we heard the door to the parking lot slam open and the big, scary men flooded inside the room.

"Matt, hurry!" I urged him, trying to stay quiet enough that no one else would hear me. "Come on!"

He lifted himself up and Dallas scooted back closer to him, grabbing his hand and helping him inside the vent. Something about seeing that simple gesture between them made my heart swell. I knew they didn't really hate each other. They were just both stubborn, alpha males. It made sense that they'd butt heads.

I silently hoped they'd become friends someday.

Matt rushed to replace the ceiling panel. He'd brought the vent cover up with him, too, and laid it back on top of the hole.

Hopefully, when those men finally busted down the bathroom door, there would be no trace of us or our escape route, and they wouldn't be smart enough to investigate the vent system. I hoped they would think that they were too late and that we'd left the motel before their arrival.

"We ready?" Dallas asked, looking back and forth between Matt and me.

"Ready," we said together, and the three of us started gradually making our way through the long tunnel as quietly as we could manage.

The smell was nauseating and I was trying my best not to inhale. I'd pulled my shirt up over my nose to try to mask the stench. Cobwebs and rat feces littered the vents, and not one of us could go a minute without making another disgusted comment about crawling through that mess.

"Remind me to never choose this option again," Dallas gagged.

We came to a fork in the venting and I stopped, looking back at Matt and Dallas.

"I don't know which way to go, guys," I said, hoping one of them had an idea.

"Can you tell if there's any outside noise or sunlight coming from either direction?" Dallas asked, coming to a stop about six feet behind me.

He was out of breath and I knew it was because he wasn't taking in enough air in attempts to avoid the horrid smell. He mimicked me and pulled his shirt over his nose, sucking in a filtered breath, his chest heaving from the sudden rush of tainted oxygen.

I glanced down both ways and I really couldn't tell which way was the better option. I thought about how the building had looked from the outside when we'd arrived last night. I vaguely remembered seeing a vent on top of the flat roof. I tried to remember which side of the building it had been on and calculate in my head how to get to it from where our room had been.

"Let's go this way." I started crawling down the vent to the left.

Dallas and Matt didn't question my choice and followed behind me, grunting, groaning, and coughing as they went.

A few minutes later, we reached another fork, but I continued on to the left, positive I was leading us in the right direction.

"Goddamn," Matt gagged. "Did you fart?"

I could practically feel Dallas rolling his eyes behind me.

"No. But I will if you want me to," he quipped back. "You are in prime position for me to bomb you, you know?"

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Matt groused.

To my relief, they shut up for the rest of our smelly vent adventure, and by the time we reached the exit hatch, we were all collapsing onto the roof and gasping for fresh air.

"We made it," Matt coughed, a nauseated look on his face. "And I didn't throw up."

"Yet," Dallas said with a wheeze, lying on his stomach against the cold rooftop. "I still might."

We took a couple minutes to catch our breaths and listen for any noise down in the parking lot. There was a two-foot-tall wall framing the entire roof, giving me a perfect spot to hide along the edge and spy on our enemies without really exposing myself.

I eyed the side of the building that our room was on and I didn't see the men anywhere, nor the vehicles they'd arrived in. It appeared that they'd all left while we'd been inside the vents.

Just to be on the safe side, I scurried across the roof to the other side and checked to see if anybody was there. Still, there was no one, to my relief. I couldn't hear any voices either. Maybe we'd gotten lucky.

"Everything looks clear," I told the boys when I returned to where they were still lying down. "Anybody got any plans?"

As if on cue, Dallas's phone buzzed with a text from the man with the safe houses. He held it out for Matt and me to read.

Ace, I'll be waiting at our old meeting location. Be there before eight o'clock or I'm gone.

"Ace?" Matt cocked a brow to Dallas.

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and slung his gear over his shoulder. "Used to be my codename."

"And the old meeting location is...?"

"An alley behind a train station in Munich. It's about a mile from another of his safe houses I used to camp out at."

While they talked, I retrieved a long rope out of the repelling set in my bag. Each of us always carried at least one set in case we ever needed to slide down the face of a building.

I anchored one end of the rope on the roof and slung the rest down the side of the motel.

I turned to Dallas and Matt, ready to get the show on the road. "Who wants to go first?"