“We may have more questions,” the detective says, “but as long as you and Dr. Salim make yourselves available as needed, there is no reason you cannot go home. I can reach you at this number?”
“Yes.”
“And Dr. Salim?”
Mikayla clears her throat. “My phone was destroyed. But I’ll get a new one when I get home.” She rattles off the number, and the detective thanks us and wishes us well.
I toss the phone back on the nightstand and link our fingers. “Want to go home, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Chapter Seventeen
Austin
One of the localPoliciaknocks on our door only a few minutes after Detective Chavez ends the call. “Your luggage, señor.”
I came to Mexico with only my rucksack, but before I left to find Mikayla, I’d dumped half of it onto the bed to lighten my load. Whoever packed up my room shoved everything into a Hotel Centro duffel bag. I hope they got it all.
But beyond that, there’s only a single, rolling suitcase.
“You pack light, sweetheart,” I say when Mik shuffles out of the bathroom, moving too slowly, too carefully for my liking. She’s in pain, and I hate that I can’t do anything for her.
Her smile holds a bit of strain, but still, it’s more relaxed than I’ve seen since our date. “My wardrobe out in the field is pretty basic. Khakis, tank tops, flannel. I didn’t expect tomeetanyone.” A flush spreads up her neck to her cheeks, and she sinks down onto the bed and unzips the suitcase I set there for her. “Not that I dress much differently at home.”
“Mik.” I crouch in front of her, my hands on either side of her thighs. Her bare thighs. Other than the various bruises, her skin is perfect. Soft. Smooth. She doesn’t pull away, despite only wearing shorts and a tight t-shirt, and I love how much more comfortable she is with me now. “You don’t have to impress me with clothes or make-up or…anything. I hope you know that.”
“You’ve seen me at my worst,” she says softly. “And for some reason, you’re still here. That’s pretty strong scientific evidence.”
“I’m still here because I care for you.” The words break something loose inside me, and dammit. I have to start letting her in—despite how much I wish I could keep my pain locked away. “The past few years have been difficult. I don’t think I even realizedhowdifficult until I left my post. But when I came down to Mexico and suddenly had all of this time…alone? I’m fucked in the head, Mik. On an epic scale. And I’m terrified that once you know just how epic, you’re going to run away and I’ll never see you again.”
My admission stirs a storm of emotion in her brown eyes, making the copper flecks shine brighter, and she leans forward and kisses me. It’s gentle, almost sweet, but full of understanding, of need, of the reassurance I’m desperate for—that she’ll give us a chance when we’re back in the real world. The one where no one wants her dead, and we can just be. Two people with a connection forged during the most intense circumstances, who just maybe…can help one another heal.
Her stomach growls, putting an end to the tender moment. Mik’s cheeks flush a shade darker, and she presses her hand to her belly and offers me a sheepish smile. Pushing to my feet, I head for the phone to order us the biggest breakfast this hotel has to offer.
Ninety minutes later,Mik pokes her head out of the steam-filled bathroom. “Um, Austin? I could use a little help.”
Zipping up my ruck, I turn and lose my words entirely. She’s wearing a pair of slim black pants and gray socks, but though she brought a maroon tank top in with her, she has a towel clutched to her chest instead. “What do you need?”
Her face is redder than I’ve ever seen it, and she turns around, revealing her unhooked bra. “I can’t…” Her voice fades as she stares down at the floor.
I stop with my hands inches from her back. The bruises look so much worse today, and shit. She’s going to be miserable sitting on a plane for five hours. “I have some arnica in my bag. Will you let me put some on you before I do up your bra?”
“Arnica?” She peers back at me, uncertainty playing over her features.
“Yeah. Friends turned me on to it. Works wonders on bruises. Take a seat on the bed.”
Mik sinks down onto the mattress, and—fuck me—lowers the towel. She’s still holding her bra in place, but this is the most comfortable she’s ever been with me.
Don’t screw it up.
Sitting behind her, I warm a bit of the arnica in my palms and then start at her shoulders.
With every inch of her skin I touch, she relaxes by a degree, until I’m massaging only a couple of inches above her waistband. Back up again until I secure the clasp of her bra, then wrap my arms around her from behind. “Your back should start to feel better soon.”
“It already does.” Twisting in my embrace, she cups my cheek. I was finally able to shave today, and her thumb skates over the smooth skin. “Too good to be true.”
“I’m not. There’s so much I still need to tell you, Mik.” The thought of losing her now, after all we’ve been through, after hiking for hours in the pouring rain searching for her, after strapping her to my back and scaling a cliff, after carrying her, unconscious, through the jungle… If she runs from me once she knows the truth, I’ll never trust anyone ever again.
