It was well after dark, that point at which most people were settling in for the evening, by the time they found a hotel to crash in Indianapolis for the night.
All Alaina said about her conversation with her parents was that they were relieved she was okay and they appreciated Mallory and Remy bringing her to them in Florida.
Mallory should be relieved as well, except she didn’t think they were safe, even in Florida. She knew how Orsen worked. Alaina’s grandparents would have had to get permission to leave pack land to move to Florida.
Which meant Orsen knew where they were. And she doubted a senior care pack had much in the way of protection. Part of the reason elderly bears retired to those packs was because they were theoretically safe. No one had ever attacked a pack full of aging shifters before.
Maybe Orsen wouldn’t follow them. Maybe he would bide his time, wait for Alaina and her family to return to Minnesota.
But Mallory doubted it. Orsen was even more volatile than his brother had been. He was the worst kind of bully. No one could best him. Ever. It was unacceptable in his mind.
And he would see the death of his brother—at anyone’s hand but his own—as someone trying to one-up him.
They booked a double room for the night. While her bear was disappointed—it recalled all too vividly what happened last time she and Remy shared a hotel room—Mallory was certain Alaina wouldn’t want to spend the night alone in a strange city, ten hours after killing a man and fleeing for her life.
Remy didn’t act disappointed that they hadn’t booked their own room, which left her uncomfortably dissatisfied. While she knew they shouldn’t put Alaina in a separate room, that didn’t mean she didn’t want Remy to wish they could.
Alaina showered, and then they all tucked in to watch a rom-com movie. She fell asleep halfway through it, and when Remy noticed, he clicked off the television.
“Come on,” he whispered, nudging Mallory. She was sharing a bed with Alaina, while Remy had the double bed closest to the door all to himself.
The curtain over the window was partially open, letting in enough ambient light from the parking lot for her to see his face. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching her.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
He stood. “So we can talk.” He sounded irritated. Or maybe frustrated. But hey, how was she supposed to know what he wanted?
She’d let Alaina wear her pajamas, so she was in a T-shirt and her panties. Snagging the leggings she’d draped across the foot of the bed, she threw off the blanket and shimmied into them while he blatantly watched. He didn’t react, which was annoying all over again. Yet what the hell was she looking for from him? It wasn’t like they were going to have an opportunity to be anything but friends for the immediate future.
Did she even want to be more than friends? She still wasn’t over the last time they hooked up.
Grabbing her shoes and coat, she slipped out into the hall as he held the door open.
Instead of heading toward the lobby, he hung a left, toward the stairs, which ended at a door leading out the side of the building.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, even though there was no one around and they weren’t doing anything wrong. Just two consenting adults, wandering around the hotel late at night. Hell, it wasn’t even midnight.
He shrugged and held the door open. “I want some air. Just to breathe.”
Okay, she understood that. She felt the same way. Lounging in that hotel room made her edgy too. Although, honestly, everything was making her edgy lately. For the last four years, it seemed.
She rubbed at her sleeves as they walked along a cement path that circled the hotel. It was chilly, but not uncomfortably so, which was a nice change from the evenings in Minnesota at this time of year. And in Chicago, for that matter.
On the second pass around the building, she stopped and leaned against the cool bricks. They were on the backside of the hotel, overlooking a well-maintained greenspace cloaked in shadows. Hidden by darkness as they were, if anyone were looking out a window, they’d likely not be seen.
Remy propped his foot against the bricks, leaning next to her.
“This is nice,” she said into the silence.
“Yeah,” he responded. “Peaceful. Calming.”
It was and it wasn’t. Remy’s presence calmed her nerves, kept her grounded, and yet, having him constantly around felt like an itch she couldn’t quite reach.
