Casey nodded. “He’s drinking again.” Saying the words aloud made her stomach hurt and her heart sink all the way down to her feet. “God damn it.”
“Whoa, hey, we don’t know that,” Luc was already saying.
Her fear sharpened into anger. “How many times have you lost both your phone and your wallet when you weren’t shitfaced drunk?” she asked.
He stood his ground. “I’m just saying there’re other kinds of trouble.”
“Like what?”
“Like... I dunno. Grindr gone bad?”
“That’s better?” Casey asked, but then immediately had to agree as she stomped into the hotel room bathroom. “Okay, you’re right, that is better, because he’d still be sober at least—as he’s being serial-killed. Yay!” She swept the last of her things from the counter and into the plastic bag she used to keep her shampoo and other products from leaking onto her clothes, then headed back into the room to throw it into her suitcase. “How about flights out of LA?”
“We wouldn’t make it on time,” Luc said. Apparently, he’d already checked. God, she loved smart men. “And the first flights out of LAX in the morning are early but full. So, let’s just drive.”
He was serious.
“That’s, like, a nine hour trip.”
“Eight,” he corrected her. “Not even. Seven and change.”
Casey hesitated, so he added, “Doesn’t make sense for me to go to San Diego or Los Angeles, since we know Jon’s not there. I’m not doing much of anything else this week so... Road trip! Whoo-hoo...?”
Casey zipped her suitcase shut and turned to face him. He was serious. And the thought of making that drive on her own was daunting.
“Let me help,” he said again.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to regret this massively, but... Your car or mine?”
Casey’s bland little Prius was pretty damn sweet. It had way more of a kick than Rio expected, and it handled nicely as he merged onto the 5, heading north. They’d been on the highway for nearly two hours now—Palm Springs was far in the rearview and he was on the verge of adding LA to their rapidly increasing been-there-done-that list.
Rio had volunteered to take the first shift of driving—with the intention of simply never relinquishing the steering wheel. Casey was exhausted—both physically and emotionally—that much was clear. And a seven-and-a-half hour drive was no big thing to him. Especially considering he had the power to choose when to stop for stretching and refueling both humans and machine—which was never the case when he took “trips,” both road or the wheels-up type with his SEAL Team.
Casey stirred now and he glanced over to find her waking up. She’d pretty much fallen unconscious back when they’d first gotten onto the 10, back in Palm Springs.
She’d slept with total abandon, completely relaxed, and it gave her face a sweetness, a vulnerability. Long, dark eyelashes against soft, smooth cheeks, her lips slightly parted and seemingly ready to curl up into a warm smile.
Rio had watched her sleep from his side of that big bed this morning, too. Not in a Netflix true crime way, although it didn’t feel bunnies-and-puppies G-rated either, as he remembered it now. He’d woken up early, but knowing that sleep was often elusive for her he’d just stayed where he was for about forty peaceful minutes, watching her breathe, afraid that if he got up, even carefully, he’d wake her.
He’d been right. When he’d finally slipped out of bed at a few minutes before seven, she’d opened her eyes. And immediately cracked wise. “Oh, thank god, we both survived. I was so afraid I’d dream you were an enormous chicken, and devour you in the night.”
It was a reference to that famous Charlie Chaplin movie, with the starving prospectors and the boiled shoe leather. Rio had laughed but he’d also choked a little, because hearing those words, devour you in the night, coming from that woman’s impossibly perfect mouth as she stretched and then snuggled more deeply down into the covers, eyes sparkling beneath that endearing bedhead...
“I’ll be back with coffee,” he’d somehow managed to say as he pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed his bag, and headed out of the room for the sterile safety of the hotel’s gym.
Now, here in the car, Casey woke up a little more groggily, reaching for her phone to squint at the screen.
“Argh, Luc, you let me sleep too long,” she accused him, her voice rusty. She dug in her bag for a bottle of water.
“Nah,” he said easily as she took a long drink. “I’m pretty sure I let you sleep just long enough.” He glanced at her again, only to find that she was now wincing as she adjusted her bra beneath her shirt—like it had twisted in some terrible way while she’d been out. He quickly aimed his gaze back at the road. That had to suck. She fixed a wedgie while she was at it—hard to miss, even via just his peripherals. “Just, um, shout when you need a rest stop, ’kay?”
“Do you want me to drive?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
She finished her adjustments and then more carefully checked the GPS app that was running on her phone. “Whoa, you made great time.”
“We got lucky with the traffic,” Rio said. “One of the perks of traveling at oh-dark-hundred.”
