“Hey,” he said softly and drew her to him. “I’m really fine. No harm, no foul.”
She had hit her limit for a day and shook hard against him, fighting back a sob.
Her limit for a week, to be honest.
She’d barely stopped since learning Phoebe had indeed been captured and was part of a nasty plan. That seemed forever ago. She was too tired to fight right now and hold herself apart from someone who offered her comfort.
Sam hugged her to him and shushed her with quiet words. He held her close and gave her so much more than she’d had maybe ever.
Wrapping her arms around Sam, she wanted to feel a deeper connection than friendship.
That was laughable. Two days ago, they were as far from being friends as two people could be.
His warmth spread around her. So nice. So ...
“Sweetheart? Want a shower?”
She blinked and lifted her head. Where was she?
A hotel.
“Are you awake enough to shower without falling asleep again?” he asked with a chuckle. “I can always stand behind you and hold you up.”
Had she drifted off standing up? Forcing herself to pull away, she shot him a look. “You’re selfless like that.”
“I try.” He grinned.
She stepped over to get her bag. “I’m good.”
“I wouldn’t say you’re good,” he started.
He was poking at her, but she refused to rise to the bait. Too tired.
Did that mean he would give up? No. “Good just doesn’t cover a woman with your attributes. Sexy, badass, confident, and scary is more like it.”
Yet again, he’d found a way to make her laugh. That right there made a man special. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Take your time. I think we covered our trail pretty good. I’ve got your back.”
She knew he did. He was no longer Leclair, a man she’d kept at a distance just to rescue Phoebe. He was Sam, a man she now trusted when she had trusted so few over the years.
Dragging the strap off her shoulder, she put the bag on the bathroom counter and realized everything else they had was gone with the car. Sam had no duffel. She had no carry-on case.
But they were both alive.
Just to prove she could be fearless, she glanced at the mirror. And jerked back. No one could look at her and see sexy.
Sam’s eyesight was going.
She turned on shower faucets and moaned when hot water hit her skin, loving it as much as any luxury hotel bath. She scrubbed the grime from her hair. To keep from using all the hot water when Sam needed a shower just as much, she reluctantly turned off the faucets and stepped out to drip on the bathmat.
Four towels. Bless the owners.
She used one to dry off with and the other on her hair. The room provided a hair dryer. She lifted it and shook her head, putting it back. She didn’t have it in her to dry her hair.
Pulling out the black T-shirt she’d washed and kept in her bag, she held it against her like a lucky charm.
Would Sam realize it was the black shirt he’d given her in the basement of the mansion? Probably not.
