Chapter 10
TEN
Kenzie opened her eyes, disoriented by the beige walls and the sound of distant traffic.
Sunlight slanted through a gap in the curtains, casting a golden stripe across the bed and highlighting the barrier of items still arranged down the center—blanket, bags, clothes—like a makeshift wall between her and Jaz.
Her gaze drifted to him. Without the masks he wore during waking hours—playboy and informant—he looked younger, less burdened.
Faint stubble shadowed his jaw. His blond hair was tousled, one hand tucked beneath his pillow while the other rested on top of the covers.
Even in sleep, tension lingered in the slight furrow between his brows.
Strange how intimate it felt to watch someone sleep.
Kenzie closed her eyes to thank God for bringing her safely through the crazy events of the day before.
Lord, I need Your wisdom today. So much has happened.
Those men on the boat, the explosion, the deaths…
She didn’t even want to think about the men she’d shot, but she couldn’t forget them.
Guide us through this. Help us see clearly.
She didn’t know how long she prayed before she finally felt ready to open her eyes again. The Lord hadn’t given her any new instructions, so she’d keep doing what He’d told her to do the night before. Trust Jaz.
He’d kept her alive so far, though she credited God with that more than the man who’d come to her rescue.
She slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him, and padded to the bathroom carrying the shopping bag Laguerre had given her.
After scrubbing her face and teeth, she brushed her hair.
Thanks to being weighed down by the wig the night before, her usually wavy locks were flattened to her scalp.
Not that she cared that much, but she was happy to find a ponytail holder with the things Laguerre had provided.
The man must be married or have sisters to have thought of everything she might need.
In the dark room, Kenzie found a cup next to the coffeemaker and filled it with cold water. She needed caffeine, though she was more hungry than tired at the moment.
Though she knew of a great café down the street, she figured Jaz wouldn’t want her to leave. Best she could do was the single-serving coffeemaker, but she hesitated to start it brewing, afraid the hissing would wake Jaz. Sighing, she set the filled mug on the counter. She’d have to wait.
On a normal day, she’d check her phone for messages. She was the youngest of five sisters, and rarely a day went by that somebody didn’t post in their sisters’ chat or their family chat or both. But she couldn’t check her phone, not without potentially alerting bad guys where she was.
How was she in a situation where she had to worry about bad guys?
In her bedside-table drawer, she found a Bible.
She settled at the table near the windows and, using the little light coming in through the curtains, read the hundred and seventh Psalm, the seafarers’ Psalm.
She’d memorized the words—about sailors caught at sea during a storm who called out to God and were rescued.
When she was at the helm of a ship, that Psalm never failed to bring her peace.
It helped, but she flipped back to the “safety Psalm,” the ninety-first, and started praying through it line by line.
I rest in Your shadow, God most High. You are my refuge, and You will save me… She glanced at the sleeping figure and amended… save us from the fowler’s snare. Cover us with Your feathers. Let us find refuge beneath Your wings. Your faithfulness is…
A rustle from the bed drew her attention. Jaz’s eyes snapped open, immediately alert as he took in his surroundings. He sat up abruptly. “How long have you been awake?” His voice was gravelly from sleep.
“Long enough to hear you snore.”
He frowned, looking more perplexed than offended. “I don’t snore.”
“You do. It’s cute.” The teasing words surprised her as much as they seemed to surprise him. His eyebrows lifted slightly before his expression settled into something more neutral.
“I’m going to…” He gestured toward the bathroom, already moving.
She focused on the Bible as he climbed from the bed.
After he closed the door, Kenzie opened the drapes, filling the room with sunshine.
The window faced the building next door.
Not exactly the sea view she was hoping for, but the natural light helped her feel more awake, more normal somehow.
She moved to the coffeemaker and the thin paper packets of pre-ground coffee.
Hotel coffee was universally terrible, but right now, she’d take anything with caffeine.
The machine gurgled to life, wafting the scent of warm brew through the small room.
She tidied the bed, separating her things from his, and then doctored the cup with a sugar packet, skipping the powdered creamer.
The bathroom door opened, and Jaz emerged looking more put together, his hair damp. He spied the cup she held in her hand. “Is it drinkable?”
“Barely. I’ll make you a cup. I just need water, if you’re finished.”
“Right. Yeah. Go ahead.” He scooted out of the way, and she passed him in the narrow hallway.
This hotel room was too small for two people, especially two people who barely knew each other. Who weren’t even the same gender. She hoped there would be better accommodations tonight.
Better yet, maybe it could be over by tonight.
She sent up that prayer. It would be a miracle, but it never hurt to ask. She filled a clean mug and stepped back into the room to make the coffee.
Jaz stood by the window, his back to her, and spoke into his phone, the French coming rapidly, though she picked up much of it. He was asking someone to bring them food.
Thank heavens.
He ended the call and turned. “How’d you sleep?”
“Better once I got my brain to shut up.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Thanks for…” How did she think she was going to finish that sentence? Thanks for touching me? That sounded ridiculous and certainly didn’t have the ring to it she was going for.
But Jaz just nodded. “No problem. It was a…unique day.”
His choice of words surprised a laugh out of her. “You could say that.”
He grinned, and their eyes met, and the whole awkward situation became awkwarder, if that was even a word.
She snatched her mug, nearly spilling it, and took a sip.
Jaz settled at the small table. “Laguerre’s bringing food and more clothes for you.”
“Oh, good.”
“He’ll be here soon.” Jaz pulled a laptop from his duffel bag and started tapping on it.
She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her phone, which sat on her nightstand. She couldn’t power it on.
The coffeemaker spat the last bit into Jaz’s mug, and she stood and handed it to him, careful not to let their fingers touch. “I’m starving.”
“You and me both. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.” He accepted the coffee and took a sip, his face scrunching at the taste. “This is terrible.”
“Slightly better than nothing.” She sat on the bed again, feeling useless as Jaz resumed whatever he was doing. She’d assumed he’d start grilling her the second he woke up. Maybe he was waiting for food.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. A soft knock came at the door a few minutes later. She stood, but Jaz gestured for her to stay where she was as he crossed the room and peered through the peephole before opening it.
Laguerre stood on the shaded walkway, arms loaded with bags that, even from where she sat, smelled like heaven.
“Merci, mon ami.” Jaz took the bags and stepped aside to let him in.
Laguerre nodded to Kenzie. “Good morning.” His dark eyes lingered on her face, concern evident in his expression. He turned to Jaz and lowered his voice, speaking rapid French that she couldn’t quite catch.
Jaz responded in the same language, his tone reassuring. After a brief exchange, Laguerre nodded, glanced at her once more, and left.
After the door closed, she asked, “What did he say?”
“He wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“That you’re tougher than you look.”
Warmth spread through her chest at the unexpected compliment. She wasn’t used to people seeing her strength—her parents certainly never had. They still treated her like the vulnerable teenage girl who needed protection and guidance, not a grown woman capable of handling herself.
Jaz set the food bags on the bureau and another sack on the bed.
The aroma of fresh coffee—real coffee, not the sad hotel brew—filled the small room, along with the scent of warm pastries.
“There’s a shaded seating area on the roof.
Laguerre checked, and nobody’s up there.
We could have breakfast outside, get some fresh air. ”
The thought of leaving this cramped room made Kenzie’s spirits lift immediately. “That sounds amazing.”
“Agreed.” Jaz nodded to the horrible blond wig. “Unfortunately, if we leave, you’ll need to wear that.”
She glared at it. “Why?”
“In case someone sees us.”
“Nobody knows where we are, right?” The question brought a wave of fear. She’d felt safe here.
“This room is in Simone’s name. They might have located it.”
“But, why would…?” She sighed. Obviously, he had his reasons.
“We can stay in the room.” He pasted on a smile that looked about as authentic as the gross powdered creamer. “It’s fine.”
Lousy choices, but at least he was letting her decide something. She chose the route that got them outside and snatched the wig.
“Here’s some more clothes. Laguerre guessed your sizes.” He handed her the sack from the bed. “Just pick whatever you want. Simone can be casual too.”
She took the bag and all the bobby pins she’d dropped the night before, then closed herself in the bathroom. Fresh air, coffee, and food awaited her. The only cost was a scratchy wig and… She glanced into the bag of clothes Laguerre had chosen.
Huh. Not bad.
The man definitely had at least one woman in his life.