“I killed two and incapacitated one.The guy I injured—they said his name is Porter, but I don’t know if that’s a first or last name.He’s going to need treatment for a shattered kneecap.”
“Good to know.We’ll check the local hospitals to see if anyone’s been recently admitted for a similar injury.”
“We also heard one of them mention somebody named Winslow.Does that ring a bell?”
“No, but I’ll pass it along to Larissa.The name might have come up in one of her searches.”
If anyone could find the proverbial needle in a haystack, it was her.
“What’s the name of the hotel you’re at?”Austin asked, and Navarre rattled off the name and address.“Do you think you’ll be safe there tonight?The storm’s pretty bad up here.Last I heard, there’s a flash flood watch in effect, and the forecast doesn’t show this storm easing up until early tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be fine here until things settle down.”He glanced to where Sloane sat at the table, and she nodded in agreement.“After roughing it in the woods, this place feels like the Ritz-Carlton.”
Austin laughed.“Good.If anything changes, give us a call, and we’ll find a way to reach you.”
“I assume they’re not coming tonight,” Sloane said when he hung up the phone.
Navarre shook his head.“The weather’s too rough for them to drive down the mountain.They’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
She glanced at the door.“Are you sure we’ll be safe?”
After everything they’d been through, he understood her concern.But more important, he wanted her to feel secure.“Yeah, we’re good.If any of those assholes are still out there, I doubt they’ll be searching for us until the storm breaks.That door’s pretty solid with a good deadbolt, but I’ll brace a chair under the knob just in case.”
A smile warmed her lips.“Thank you.”
Her gaze met his, and there was no mistaking the heat in her hazel eyes.Tension charged the air between them, and he felt the strain in his resolve.Digging deep, it took every last ounce of his willpower to keep from getting up and going to her.
She coughed to clear her throat.“Well, I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty gross.Should we shower before eating, or eat then shower?”
Just what he needed: the mental image of her soapy and naked.This was going to be a long night.“Are you close to passing out from hunger?”
She shook her head.
“Then shower first.You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”In need of a distraction, he pushed off the bed.“I’ll take care of the door while you’re in there.”
Chapter 18
Wordscouldnotbeginto describe how good it felt to peel off her grungy clothes.The hot water in the shower felt even better.
Sloane scrubbed every square inch of her body and washed her hair twice.It was tempting to stay under the spray until the water turned cold, but that wouldn’t be fair to Navarre.He’d kept her safe all this time; the least she could do was make sure he had a little hot water.
Reluctantly, she shut off the shower, dried her body with a midnight-blue towel, and put on one of the matching robes hanging from hooks on the back of the door.It was nice of the motel to provide them for guests, especially considering she’d hated the thought of putting filthy garments back on her clean body.
She cast a glance to the wall-mounted rack where her once-stylish outfit was hanging to dry.The torn-out knee in the black jeans would be all but impossible to fix, but the pink jacket and matching blouse were salvageable.Before stepping into the shower, she’d washed them all in the sink.Not the best way to clean them, but the cabin didn’t have a washing machine.It also didn’t have a dryer, which meant it would likely take all night for them to dry.For now, the robe would have to do.
She wiped the fog from the mirror above the sink and leaned forward to check her reflection.The hot shower had brought some color back to her face, making the dark circles under her eyes slightly less noticeable.A good night’s rest would likely take care of that.
The blisters on her feet still hurt, but those would heal in a matter of days.Looking back at everything that happened, it could have been so much worse.She didn’t have any bullet wounds, or broken bones, or deep psychological trauma that would require years of therapy.All in all, she considered herself lucky.
Straightening, she finger-combed her hair, tightened the sash on her robe, and left the bathroom.
True to his word, Navarre had wedged one of the chairs under the doorknob, which would make it more difficult for anyone to force the door open.He’d also closed the curtains as an added measure of privacy.His boots were on the floor by the dresser, his leather jacket hanging from one of the bedposts.He sat on the other chair at the table, still wearing his shoulder rig over his black shirt, munching on a Clif Bar they’d bought from the vending machine while flipping channels on the television.At the sound of the door opening, he glanced her way and did a double take.
“Now that I’m clean, I didn’t want to put my dirty clothes back on,” she explained before he could ask.“I washed everything in the sink.Hopefully, they’ll be dry by morning.”
His gaze roamed the length of her body, from head to toes and back up again, and she felt it like a caress.“Where’d you get the robe?”
She pointed to the bathroom.“It was on a hook behind the door.There’s another one in there if you want to wash your things as well.”
