Her shoulders hunch, instantly on the defensive. “It’s fine. I’ll get a new one from upstairs, later.” Then she turns to me, her face pinched. “Is that all right?”
“Yeah.” I lay back, hands behind my head so she doesn’t have to worry about them wandering where they shouldn’t. “You’ll have to change in front of me, though. I can’t have you hiding contraband again.”
The colour drains from her face so quickly I get scared she’s having a medical emergency. Then she scratches at her neck, digging her nails in so they leave crimson streaks behind. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why? What’re you hiding?”
I’m teasing but she looks appalled, and I have to turn away, the gouge of pain too deep to bear.
Last night, with her riding my thigh, hands and tongue touching me, my hands fisting in the sheets because I was so desperate to touch her, I thought she was into it. That she liked me.
Stupid.
In the dark, she probably painted someone else’s features over mine, someone else’s body. She freaked out when I touched her, scared when the reality threatened to overtake whatever fantasy she used to force herself to touch me.
I turn away, swinging my feet off the edge of the bed to sit upright. My nudity causes a burst of shame and I drag on the sweatpants she removed from me last night. The same oversized body that’s attracted king hits outside bars since I was a teenager must revolt her.
She’s educated, poised, loyal as hell. All the things I’m not and never will be.
“Do you want another shower before we hit the road?”
She nods, sliding off the bed and away from me, my skin instantly demanding she return, missing her touch.
While she’s in the bathroom, I head up to the attic to pick out another few outfits from the stash up there. There are piles and piles of clothing, spare sheets, towels, shoes, a few wigs and hairpieces.
From what I’ve heard, the owner was an amateur drama enthusiast, though it’s equally likely someone just thought ahead and provided the things that men transporting illegal goods throughout the country might need in a pit stop. I hold a dark wig in my hand, briefly considering it, then settle for a baseball cap instead.
If I need to disguise my hair, a razor will take care of that better.
There’s little from the selection that’ll fit Nadia, but I find a belt that’ll help her keep those cargo shorts more secure or turn one of the large tee shirts into a dress.
I knock on the bathroom door, and she calls out, “Yes?” in a shrill voice.
“I’ve got some fresh clothes for you,” I shout back. “They’re waiting just outside the door.” I set them down and wander back to the kitchen, grabbing the rucksack and rechecking the cabinets in case I missed something yesterday.
It’s nearly time to listen to the radio news when I hear a noise from outside. The crunch of approaching tyres that signal my run of luck is about to turn.
CHAPTERTEN
NADIA
I pressmy ear against the door, waiting until I can hear Malakai in another room before I open it a sliver and retrieve the clothing he left outside for me.
The belt is a godsend. The shorts he picked out are in a smaller size than the clothing yesterday, but I’d still spend half my time hitching them up if not for the strap holding it in place.
My hair is a fuzzy halo around my head. Half from being rubbed dry so aggressively with the towel. Most because I don’t have access to the usual products to tame my curls into shape.
Left on its own for too long, my hair always devolves into frizz at the first opportunity.
I poke and prod at the errant curls, refusing to think about why I’m suddenly so interested in my appearance after years of not caring.
When there’s nothing left to do, I sigh and leave the room, alert for sounds from Malakai. I can’t hear him, for a big guy he certainly moves like a cat, but I walk towards the kitchen since that seems most likely. A few steps along the hall I hear a car door slam outside and I freeze on the spot.
Someone’s here.
Malakai would have told me if he expected another colleague to join him, wouldn’t he?
I tiptoe to the nearest window, pulling aside the netting for long enough to get a glimpse at the new arrivals. A man and a woman. The woman fixes her makeup in the rearview mirror while the man approaches the house.
