“For tonight,” Chavez tells the clerk as he pulls a business card from his pocket, “You can send the bill to me. Two rooms—“
“One,” Mikayla and I say at the same time. Thank God I don’t have to convince her to let me stay with her. I’ll sleep on the couch. Hell, in front of the fucking door. I’m not leaving her side while those assholes are free.
“One room then,” Chavez says and scribbles something on the back of his business card and passes it to the clerk. “Please put them on the same floor as Li Chen and Isaiah Williams. A uniformed officer will be patrolling that floor tonight.” Turning to me, he offers me his hand. “Major General Pritchard, Dr. Salim. It is late. We will call you in the morning with what we have been able to learn about these two men.”
“Our things, Detective?” I ask. We’re both filthy and bloody, and more than anything, Mikayla needs to feel like herself again.
“When the Hotel Centro learned the students were kidnapped from their loading dock, they became very…uncooperative. I am going there myself now to speed things along. We may not have your things until morning, but we have officers at the hotel now, and we will not allow anyone to enter your rooms.”
Mik doesn’t respond, and from the look on her face…she’s so worn out, so mentally and physically drained, I need to get her into bed before she topples over.
“Just do what you can. We’ve been in these clothes for two full days.”
Chavez gives me a curt nod, and his officer leads us to a fourth-floor suite and bids us goodnight.
I clear the living area, bedroom, bathroom, and two closets while Mik stands just inside the door, totally silent. “It’s all good, sweetheart. Come with me.” Leading her into the bathroom, I turn on the hot water in the shower, then lift her up onto the counter.
Steam fills the room as I kneel in front of her and unlace her boots. Once I have the brace off and set it down next to her, I push to my feet and shove my hands into my pockets. It’s either that or touch her, hold her, and I don’t think she’s ready for that. “There’s a robe on the back of the door. Can you manage with that ankle?”
“Y-yes. I’ll be okay,” she whispers. Her cheeks flush, and she stares at her knees, her khaki pants torn and stained, like she’s seeing them for the first time. “I don’t…we don’t have any clothes.”
“I’ll call down and see if the hotel has anything available. If not, we’ll live in the robes tonight. First thing in the morning, I’ll get us a flight to Maryland.” Brushing my knuckles along her cheek, I wait for her to look up at me. “We’re safe now, sweetheart. As safe as I can make us. If you want me to stand guard at the door all night, I will. Otherwise, I’ll take the couch.”
She watches me as I leave, and dammit. I wish I could say something—dosomething—to reassure her. With no clue how to fix what the past few days have broken in her, I call the front desk, then rummage in the closet and find a spare set of sheets, a blanket and a pillow to make up the couch.
Every muscle in my body aches, and I’m tempted to lie down right now, but I wasn’t kidding. I’ll sit up all night, stand guard, if that’s what she needs. Plus, I smell like the ass end of a burned-out garbage truck.
The water turns off, and I lay my hunting knife on the table next to the couch, then dig through my ruck for my phone. Battery’s mostly dead, but once it’s plugged in, I fire off a quick text to Trevor.
What would it take to get a flight from San Cristóbal de las Casas to Maryland? One that doesn’t go through channels? Four passengers. I’m fine. Don’t worry Dani.
He replies in under a minute.
Explain. Right fucking now.
I should have known. He won’t let this go and while I have no doubt he’s already on the phone to Dax or Ryker making arrangements, he’ll let me twist in the wind until I give him a halfway acceptable answer.
Met someone in trouble. That’s all I can say tonight. Need you to trust me. If we have to fly commercial, we’ll be stuck here for days waiting on passport replacement. Going dark for the night, but text me in the morning.
I’ll catch all kinds of shit for this when we get back to the States. Hell, if he waits much after sunrise to demand answers, it’ll be a fucking miracle.
Five minutes later, my phone vibrates on the table. “Trevor, you better not expect me to answer you,” I mutter as I check the screen.
A Cessna Citation Sovereign, N354TV, will arrive at the San Cristóbal airport tomorrow at 13:00. It takes off for Baltimore no later than 17:00. Be on it. And you’re going to explain everything. In person. No more than twenty-four hours after you land. Even if I have to drive down there myself. Got it?
I haven’t felt like laughing in two days. But I chuckle as I thumb out a reply.
Crystal, Superman. I owe you.
The little dots on screen dance for a few seconds, and one final message pops up.
No. My ledger’s going to be red for the rest of my life. But that’s a discussion for another time.
Mikayla
A shower has never felt so good. For the first time in…I don’t even know how long—I’m warm, and I don’t smell of mud and sweat and soot and blood.
After I dry myself off and belt the robe tightly, I shove my clothes into the trash. My wrists are still red and a little raw from the zip tie, and every step—even after I put the ankle brace back on—hurts, but I’m alive, and Austin’s on the other side of that door.
