“Strategic?”
“I was going to say arrogant.”
“This is not arrogance but mission readiness. Drilled into me after five years in the Army.”
“If you’re trying to lecture me about how I’m handling this?—”
“Whoa.” Man, he couldn’t win for losing. “Power down, Supergirl. We’re on the same team.”
“No, we’re not. Because there is no team. I was doing just fine before you got here.”
“Yeah, that bruise looks real fine.” Not helping, Apollo. “You don’t have to be the sacrificial lamb. She’s safe, fine. The team?—”
“Enough!” She glowered, reminding him they were likely being listened in on. “I won’t let you ruin anything. As far as I’m concerned, you can leave.”
“Actually, I can’t…”
With a roll of her eyes, she stomped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Again? Owen dragged his hands over his face with a groan and slumped back against the seat. God, You gotta help me out. This…is beyond me.
How was he supposed to help her, save her, if she wouldn’t let him?
And if he didn’t—bam. Another “close but no cigar” tick on the scoreboard of his life. Would this be three strikes, you’re out?
When he heard the shower turn on, he realized he did not have any supplies to shower and shave. At 2200, it was unlikely he could disturb Rayan to get some. How was he supposed to take care of things?
Surely this wing had a standalone bathroom. Maybe it’d have soap he could use. Only one way to find out…
First, he snagged a pillow from the window seat, then stepped out into the hall. And because he was not going to risk losing his objective on his first official night on the job, he used the key to lock the door. Although, it’d serve these royals right if she escaped. The reality was that she’d likely get caught and either beaten or killed.
He set the pillow next to the door of the inset space for her apartment, then glanced up and down the concourse looking for someone to ask about a bathroom and toiletries. At the rail that ran around the open-to-below atrium, he searched for help. Nobody. Man. How?—
“What are you doing?” hissed a woman.
Owen glanced behind him and found a woman in a black abaya standing there with a stern expression. “Hi, I’m the guard for Nouri. But I don’t have a shave kit. I need to take care of business.”
Wow, that got embarrassing fast.
With a huff, she waved him to follow her…right back toward Nouri’s door. She reached for a panel and swiped a key, and a hidden panel popped. She flicked it open and indicated him toward it. “Use.”
Surprise had him peeking inside—a private bath. Wow. “Thank you,” he said, glancing at her. “And toiletries?” But she was already gone. With a shrug, he slipped into the bathroom, eyed another door, wondering if this was a jack-and-jill, and anchored the bolt lock. Beneath the counter, he found extra toiletries and quickly brushed his teeth and cleaned up. Before leaving, he grabbed a washcloth, stepped out, and pulled the panel almost completely shut before stuffing it along the lock to prevent it from catching. This way he could come back later to shower.
Satisfied, he returned to her apartment alcove and retrieved the pillow. He dropped it on the floor, swallowed his pride, and lay on his back, arms folded over his chest. Why hadn’t he thought to grab a blanket?
Though carpeted, the hard floor dug into his shoulder blades. At least he didn’t have to worry about sleeping too deeply. Not even sure he could fall asleep. He used the sleeplessness to figure out how to get Leighton to soften up, give him a break. Thinking through everything he’d seen, those he’d met, he catalogued it all. Took stock of it. Worked on a plan to get her back to Yasmina.
The safari. If somehow Omen could get in place… Yeah… Yeah, that could work. Maybe if they happened upon an area with knolls and hills, trees, he could have the team waiting… But he’d need to know locations first. He should ask Rayan for an itinerary, so he could be prepared. It would take more than an itinerary to be prepared, though, especially with her unwilling to cooperate.
Leighton awoke with a start. Not because anything was wrong but because her body had trained her to be up, alert, and dressed before that door opened to deliver the breakfast tray. Vigilance kept her from being intruded upon. It always felt slimy for a male guard to see her in a state of undress, despite being beneath the covers.
Even as she dragged herself out of bed, she recalled a hazy dream. Laughter…his laughter, Apollo’s. They’d been at the Capitol together, beneath the cherry blossom trees along the tidal basin.
Shaking off the dream, she headed into the bathroom and readied herself for the day. She found makeup in a tray and added some concealer to the bruise that was a garish shade of blue and purple now, then got dressed.
Thud! Crack! Thud!
Startled, she hurried back into the room, looking around. Had something fallen? What had the noise?—
