“Sure,” she said, before closing the bathroom door.
The steam billowed, enveloping her in a cloud of warmth. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation as the humid air swirled around her. Adria prayed that some of the warmth would thaw her insides. The day’s events had her twisted in knots.
The plan was veil thin, and it included counting on people she didn’t know. The lack of control was enough to drive her insane. But that wasn’t all.
When Bryson had first received her blood, she could vividly remember the frailty in his body, the weight of his head resting heavily on her shoulder. But as he gradually regained strength, she not only saw his physical distance grow but also felt the emotional detachment.
Seth had barely said a word to her on the flight, and now Kaydon.
Of the three, he was the one she would have expected a warm welcome from. At the house, he was always the first to look past her flaws, and the first to see the positive side of things.
Not that there were many in this situation.
Perhaps the last few months had sapped Kaydon of his positivity. A thought that had Adria grabbing her middle. This was all her fault.
She had gotten a few details from them at the safe house. How Regan’s team had intercepted them, and Regan’s relation to Jonathan.
The Balin line was gone.
A chill ran through her despite the warm water when she thought of everything the four of them had to go through to make that so.
The rough towel scratched her skin as she dried off. Her hand wiped the condensation off the mirror, and she gazed at her reflection, her green eyes staring back. The harsh light of the room cast shadows on her face and Adria realized how tired she felt.
Tired of losing, tired of fighting, tired of beingonall the time.
She took a breath, closed her eyes, and gripped the edge of the counter. Their lives were in her hands. She couldn’t give up.
Not yet.
When she opened her eyes, determination stared back at her.
Steeling herself, she exited the bathroom.
“All yours,” she said, her tone purely business. Grabbing her bag, she attempted to shove the dirty clothes into the front pocket.
Kaydon wrapped his large hand around hers. “Let me wash these with my shirt.”
Her hand clutched her dirty laundry, and her stomach did a flip at his contact. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry.
“Sure,” she said, voice more shaky than she would have liked. “That’s thoughtful.”
That’s thoughtful?
She wanted to sink into the floor and vanish. Maybe she should have just checked into the hotel by herself. Clearly, she was going to be alone for the rest of her life, might as well start now.
How about, take your clothes off and lay down on the bed naked? How about getting down on your knees and showing me how much you missed me?
A few months ago, she could have threatened to spank him. She could have said any number of filthy things that would have brought him to his knees, blushing and grinning from ear to ear. But now she didn’t know where she stood. She was in uncharted waters, and she felt more adrift than ever.
The shower turned on in the bathroom, and Adria pulled an oversized t-shirt over her head and some red underwear, the smooth texture embracing her curves. Bringing the curtain back, she looked out into the barren landscape. This was not the Mexico of resort brochures and spring break postcards. Beyond the hotel’s thin curtains stretched a landscape of rust-colored dust and squat cinder block buildings with corrugated metal roofs that glowed in the afternoon heat. A woman in a faded floral dress swept the cracked sidewalk outside a home barely larger than her walk-in closet, while two children kicked a soccer ball in the street. The air carried the mingled scents of diesel exhaust, cooking oil, and the sharp tang of desert vegetation.
Beyond the buildings, the desert stretched like a vast, indifferent tablecloth upon which countless lives were being served simultaneously—their own drama merely one small plate in an endless banquet of human suffering.
When Kaydon came out of the bathroom, the scent of fresh soap lingered around him. His towel hung low on his hips, and Adria’s cheeks tingled with a flush, a mix of embarrassment and admiration. The droplets of water clung to his defined muscles, and his large frame took over the room.
She watched as he meticulously hung every piece of washed clothing in the so-called closet. His shirt, her shirt, her pants, her blouse, and her black laced underwear. She watched as his hand lingered on her panties.
Her breath caught in her chest, and the room filled with an alluring presence that was hard to ignore. Suddenly, Adria couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. The sight of his hands trailing along her underwear did something to her.
