| |
Zeke
Zeke listened to Aggie’s steady, even breathing, but he didn’t believe for one minute she was asleep.
That news story about the mob hit had spooked her—and understandably so. Still, it was the first time he’d seen her noticeably shaken. Even her kidnapping and beating hadn’t affected her quite as deeply.
Which made him uncomfortable.
He slept lightly, balancing on the edge between full-on slumber and alertness. It would have to suffice. Only two more days, maybe three on the outside, before they reached the safe house. Then, he could return to his own shadows and sleep as long as he wanted.
The thought wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.
The original reservations he’d had about taking the job resurfaced with a vengeance, along with some new doubts. He’d convinced himself that delivering the skilled hacker-slash-social-justice warrior to Charley was in her best interests. Now that he’d met her and spent some time with her, he wasn’t so sure.
Everything about her was contradictory. Her quiet compliance and occasional sassiness. Her tiny, fairy-like form and her curvy, womanly features. Her inner toughness and simmering vulnerability. Her genius-level intellect and her casual ordinariness.
The most troubling thing was, the more he discovered, the more he wanted to know.
He could lie to himself all he wanted, but from the moment he’d looked into those haunted eyes, he’d wanted more.
That was some truly scary shit, especially since it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his distance. It had taken a substantial amount of willpower not to rip that curtain open earlier and follow the path of those water droplets with his tongue. To run his hands over her toned flesh and lave every bruise until the only pain she felt was the sweet ache of desire.
There was no reason he couldn’t, other than his own code of moral conduct—although, he’d consider suspending that if she expressed an interest. Several times, he’d felt her eyes on him when they were in the car, and when he’d stepped out of the bathroom, bare-chested, she’d seemed to like what she saw.
But she hadn’t initiated anything, and those surreptitious glances, no matter how hot, were not sufficient to justify a seduction, and that was a damn shame. He suspected the two of them could have a good time together before they parted ways.
A soft sigh carried through the stillness, followed by the sound of covers being cast aside. Apparently, she was having trouble sleeping too. She got up several times throughout the night. Each time she did, he rose to a sense of heightened awareness, certain she was going to try to slip away.
She didn’t. She visited the bathroom. Sat in the darkness by the window once or twice. Not once did she venture over to his side of the room or attempt to go near the door, so he remained where he was and said nothing.
Eventually, dawn began to lighten the edges around the windows. Zeke rose and moved toward the bathroom, where she had been for the last hour. He knocked slightly on the frame.
“Be out in a minute,” came a weak reply.
She emerged a few minutes later, looking pale and tired.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Thanks for the unsolicited assessment. Is it time to go?” she asked wearily, pushing past him.
“Not yet.”
“Good.” She crawled back into bed and curled up into a ball, pulling the covers up to her face. “Wake me up when it is.”
Then, she yawned and burrowed further under the covers.
Well, at least now, he knew why she’d been up and restless all night. Or what she wanted him to think. It could be a ruse. Feigning sickness was easy enough. Perhaps she thought to play upon his sympathies in the hopes of getting him to run out for something on her behalf and then disappearing when he did.
He grunted. Not today, Robin Hood.
Zeke pulled on the zippered hoodie and gathered his keys, and then he slipped quietly out the door and into the stairwell. There he waited, watching through the narrow rectangular window, expecting her to exit any moment.
Nothing happened. Fifteen minutes went by before Zeke went back into the room. She was still there, curled into a tight little ball, huddled under the covers, shaking.
He reached out and gently touched his fingers to her forehead. Her skin was hot and damp.
Well, hell.
She stirred, and he quickly removed his hand.
One eye opened and regarded him. “Time to go?” she asked sleepily.
“Not yet. Need anything? Want some breakfast?”
“God, no,” she moaned.
“Okay. Go back to sleep.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes and was out again almost immediately.
It appeared their time together would be extended for another day.