“Is that why you’ve been relieved?”
“No.”
I grabbed the clothes at the top of the bag and dressed in a simple sweater and dark jeans. A red mark had developed in the center of my forehead, a reminder of the moment my attacker had slammed my head to the ground. My hair was wet, the ends dripping on my sweater, but I no longer cared about how I looked.
I stepped out of the bathroom and found him sitting on the bed, one hand massaging the back of his neck.
“Is it because of whatever happened that put you in handcuffs?”
“No.”
Was he purposefully being vague? “Then why?”
“Because Bill knows I kissed you. There was a security camera in the restaurant.”
I leaned against the dresser to keep from collapsing. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
His gaze snapped to me, and his expression was incredulous. “This is not your fault. You didn’t make me kiss you.Idid that.”
He rose from the bed, moving slower than normal, obviously in pain. He advanced toward me until there was no more space left between us then dipped his head, so he was only inches away. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sad smile, and his voice dropped to a hush.
“You could have made it less difficult on me,” he said, “notto kiss you, though.”
He leaned in and set his lips on mine, and when his arms wrapped around me, I wanted to melt into him. There was a safety in his embrace which the logical side of my brain didn’t understand. It half expected him to pull away at any moment.
But he didn’t. His hands pressed me deeper into his reckless kiss. Maybe he felt he had little left to lose.
As much as I didn’t want it to end, we were running out of time. I placed my hands on his broad shoulders and eased him back. “Why were you in handcuffs?”
“Because when I came to, you’d been taken.” His brown eyes were serious and intense. “There was some FBI agent being a real dick about needing my statement when there were,” he considered how to phrase it, “better uses of my time.”
“Did you break his nose, too?” I frowned as the horrible image of Jason breaking the man’s jaw flashed through my mind.
“No, all I did was shove the guy out of my way. But I can tell you, he did not care for that.” He made a tight noise when he righted himself.
“Are you okay? I thought maybe the vest?—”
“I’ll survive,” he said. “And you? Did he hurt you?”
“No, I don’t think he planned to, at least not in the van.”
He clearly did not like the sound of that, but he held back any other emotion he was feeling. “What did he say? Try to be exact.”
I hurried through the story with Jason’s arms around me, and his hold tightened when I shuddered and described Frey’s tongue on my skin. The shower had done little to wash the revulsion off me, but his presence was a powerful distraction.
We couldn’t stay like this forever, though. It had definitely been longer than ten minutes, and each second was likely to piss Bill off even more.
“What happens now?” I asked, unintentionally holding my breath.
His arms fell away and he stepped back, his gaze running from mine. “I need a minute.”
I swallowed thickly. I understood this wasn’t an easy decision for him, and it was beyond selfish for me to ask him to make this sacrifice, especially when we barely knew each other. But it hurt regardless when his answer wasn’t immediate.
The silence was utter agony and lasted forever.
“Will you get on the helicopter if I don’t?” he asked finally.
There was no air left in my lungs, but somehow, I managed to speak. “No.”
