Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
T horn set off, map in hand, cursing under her breath. Why did Damian have to be so goddamn well put together? Why couldn’t he be a geek, like computer nerds were supposed to be? Then she wouldn’t be having this problem.
But no, instead, she was stuck with a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad. Damian, standing in his bedroom, in that tiny towel.
His body wet and glistening, muscles rippling beneath his bronzed skin.
And those eyes—dark, stormy, and filled with something that made her stomach flip every time they met hers.
Dammit.
Her freakin’ hormones were buzzing again, a low hum that made it impossible to focus on anything else. She sucked in a breath of warm, dry air, trying to clear her head.
Concentrate.
But it was no use. The memory of his body was branded into her mind, every hard line and defined muscle. The way the water had clung to him, dripping down his chest, tracing the contours of his abs, had her insides tightening in a way that was completely unprofessional.
Putting Damian’s chiseled physique firmly out of her mind was a losing battle, but she tried, burying the image deep. She studied the map, forcing herself to focus. Any apps on her phone were useless here, thanks to the poor reception, so they were going “old school.” She examined the layout of the village, noting it wasn’t very big.
Next, she took a walk around their hotel. It was situated between two other buildings. On one side was an old residence with subdivided apartments, and on the other, a farmacia, with what she assumed were the drugstore’s lodgings upstairs.
There was no access to the hotel from the sides, even though a narrow alleyway separated it from each of its neighbors. At the front was the big wooden door they’d come through, while at the back, facing the square, was a smaller door leading to a tiled patio with a round table and several chairs.
Two points of entry.
Thorn pushed open the smaller door and found herself in a rustic dining room. Their hostess, along with a younger woman, was setting the tables for breakfast.
“Hola,” Thorn smiled. At least she knew how to say hello. In her defense, she had spent the last five years in the Middle East. Her Pashto was far better than her Spanish.
The younger woman glanced up. “Hola, you are staying at the hotel?”
“You speak English,” Thorn said, relieved.
“Sí. I’m Clara, Isabella’s niece.”
“Hi, Clara, it’s great to meet you.”
“You want breakfast?” Clara gestured to the table settings.
“Not right now. I’m going for a walk.”
She nodded. “You come when you want.”
Thorn walked through the plaza, scouting out the various shops and cafes. The kids were still playing their soccer game and gave her toothy grins and waves as she passed. She waved back.
On the far side of the plaza, she came across yet another alleyway. It ran between a coffee shop and a grocery store. Thorn glanced around, then followed it for a quarter mile before emerging on a quiet, suburban street flanked by residences. Some were subdivided, but most were free-standing houses.
She consulted the map, looking for an escape route. If things went south, she wanted to be prepared. If she turned right here and walked roughly three hundred yards along the quiet street, then turned left, passing what looked like a park or children’s playfield, she’d end up on a main road heading out of town.
Only one way to find out.
She took off at a jog, following the route in her head. Once she turned off the suburban road, the terrain became dry and dusty, the track flanked by a few trees and dried-out bushes. The few properties she saw were set back from the path and behind high walls. Either this was a rich part of town or very poor; she couldn’t decide which.
The walls, made of stone and concrete, needed painting, but that meant nothing. There could have been sprawling mansions behind them or small, dilapidated houses.
As she ran past, a wooden gate groaned open, and a teenage boy stepped out. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and his shoes were faded and smudged with dirt. Thorn came to a stop and gave him a friendly smile. “Hola.”
He gave a shy nod, then hurried away. She noticed he carried a woven bag under one arm, and she guessed he was going to the market square to buy groceries.
On a whim, she climbed the wooden gate he’d come through and glanced over the top. It was a sprawling complex of low- income housing, fronted by a dried-grass area that had been turned into a makeshift basketball court. Several kids the same age as the boy played on it, some barefoot, others in flip-flops, and a few in trainers.
Thorn dropped back onto the path. Nothing of use there.
She walked to the end of the track where it opened up into another, smaller square. This one had a big oak tree in the middle, surrounded by a bench. It seemed to be a pedestrian-only plaza, as there were no cars. Two old ladies sat on the bench chatting.
Five four or five at the most. Late seventies.
Zero threat.
Thorn nodded as she walked past, and they gazed at her with undisguised curiosity.
Two roads led off the square. Inspecting the map, she ascertained that the one on the right joined up with the main road leading out of town. The one on the left led to more houses, eventually petering out.
She took one last look around the square, noting the weathered facades of the houses and the small store that looked like it hadn’t opened in years. The front was boarded up, and a rusted sign creaked in the breeze.
She sighed, knowing she needed to get back to the hotel, but also dreading it. Because Damian would be there. With his penetrating gaze, his infuriating smirk, and that stupidly perfect body.
Just a job. He’s just a job.
But she knew that was a lie, a pitiful attempt to keep the fire inside her from burning out of control.
Satisfied with her reconnaissance, Thorn turned on her heel and broke into a jog, pushing herself harder than necessary, as if the physical exertion could somehow burn away the heat simmering inside her. She tried to focus on the terrain, on the rhythm of her breathing, on anything but the images of Damian that kept flashing through her mind. But no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t outrun the thought of him—waiting for her back at the hotel, half-naked, his eyes dark with that infuriating mix of challenge and desire.