By the time they reached a town to stop in for the night, the sun had turned a light purple colour with the setting sun. Kit parked the motorcar around the back of the first hotel they saw, hoping it had at least one room for them. He didn't like the idea of having to spend what little money they had, but a night in the Royce was not on the cards and he liked the idea of having a roof over his head.

Emily gathered up the pile of bread and sweet cakes she had stolen from the bakery, and the two of them headed into the hotel. Kit kept the gun safely covered by his jacket, fidgeting with it when they approached the front desk. The man standing behind it — at least forty years older than Kit, with thinning grey hair and a moustache so thick it needed its own brush — gave them a questioning look. His eyes moved over Kit's body with a furrow in his eyebrows that grew deeper when he saw the bread Emily was holding.

"How may I help you?" he asked, though Kit wasn't sure he had just growled at them.

"We need a room for the night," Emily said.

"Just the one?"

"Yes, sir. We just got married and we're on our way down to the coast for our honeymoon."

Kit almost laughed at the absurdity of Emily's story, but if it meant they weren't scrutinised, he was more than willing to go along with it. "That's right. It's a long drive."

"We have one room available for one night." The man glanced at the leather-bound book in front of him. "Money is paid before you're given the key and checkout is at nine in the morning."

"Perfect. We shall need to be on the road early, anyway."

Emily nudged Kit hard in the side and gestured to the man behind the desk, who drew a small line on one of the pages. Kit reached into his pocket and pulled out some of the money from the ring, reluctant to part with it but knowing it was for a good cause. He handed it over, accepting the small metal key in response.

"You're in room eight. Remember, checkout is at nine."

"Checkout at nine, got it."

Kit nodded, and the man flicked his wrist in the general direction of the room they had for the night. Rolling his eyes, Kit walked away from the desk and towards a long hallway lined with wooden doors. Low conversations drifted through the cracks in the doors. They found room eight at the far end of the hallway, shrouded in the darkness but closer to a small window that, Kit thought, offered them at least a chance of escape if something went wrong.

He unlocked the door and gestured Emily inside, trying not to recoil at the sour smell that filled the room. It was the same size as the room they had stayed in with Rob, but the large bed took up most of the floor space. The walls were covered in soot; the carpet covered in strange dark stains, and Kit wasn't sure he trusted the bed, but he'd slept in worse places.

Emily stepped into the room, frowning at the state of it. Kit knew this would be new for her, just like sleeping on the straw mattress had been. Still, she had yet to complain about any part of their less-than-savoury journey and he didn't think she was going to start with a cheap hotel for the night. The other option was an even worse choice.

"Cosy," she said.

"Tell me about it." Kit sighed, removing his cap and throwing it onto the bed.

Emily placed the bread onto the bed and Kit was grateful that she had wrapped them up in the towel the gun had been wrapped in before they left the motorcar. "It's just for one night. I'm sure it can't be so bad."

"There are definitely worse places to sleep, believe me. Though I reckon we should lock the door for the night just to be safe."

She nodded, looking at the bed. Kit promptly locked the door and removed the gun from the waistband of his trousers. He placed it on the nightstand so he had quick access to it if someone were to try something in the dead of night. One look at Emily told him all he needed to know about her feelings towards their only being the one bed. Had they had the money, he would have considered a second room.

"I can sleep on the floor. Saves any awkwardness," he said.

"You can't." Emily glanced at the floor with a look of disgust. "It's probably crawling with cockroaches and you don't want to get sick. Besides, the bed will be better for your leg."

"My leg will be fine."

"No, Kit. We'll share the bed. You've done so much for me that I cannot just let you sleep on the floor with whatever might be lurking in the fibres. Nothing about this has to be awkward."

Kit looked at her, pushing down the smile so she didn't think anything strange about it. Of course, he much preferred to sleep on the bed than on the floor, but he wanted to do the gentlemanly thing and at least offer her some privacy and her own comforts. Then again, he knew that it would be rough until they could get the money to live a little more comfortably. He wished she had taken something from her father's house.

He removed his jacket and placed it on the bed for Emily to sit on, the two of them tucking into the bread and cakes. They tried to be careful, to ration what they had, but Kit considered it a small victory meal for making it out of the city.

"We can always get more before we go," Emily said, dusting icing sugar off her hands.

"Might be an idea. See what supplies we can scrounge up before we hit the road again in the morning."

She smiled a little, and Kit noticed a small glint in her eye. "This has been fun."

"Definitely an adventure."

"We're like the outlaws I read about in books. The people that used to ride through America robbing people at gunpoint, or the old highwaymen who would stalk the roads."

"Kit Jones and Emily Masters. Highwaymen. Raising hell wherever they go." Kit laughed. "It has a nice ring to it."

Emily laughed, and Kit felt that familiar swooping sensation in his stomach. Maybe they could be a little something more than partners in crime.

~~~

First Published - February 10th, 2024