28. Thad
The police arrive pretty quickly, but it takes forever to sort through everything, give our testimonies, show them my documents. The whole time Helen’s in my line of sight, but she’s not right here next to me, and I need her right here next to me. I need to touch her, to reassure myself she’s okay and whole and not too damaged. I need to ask her if she’s all right without anyone around listening, and look into her eyes when I tell her I’m not going to let anything happen to her, she’s safe with me.
By the time they give us the all clear, it’s obvious we aren’t going to get back on the road today. Helen looks exhausted; I can see the adrenaline is starting to wear off and she’s about ready to slump over. I need to get her to a hotel—a real hotel this time, with a security officer I can give clear instructions to and a door with a deadlock—and let her rest and recover. She might even want to fly home after what happened today. The thought makes my throat feel tight, but I’ll respect whatever she wants to do. Whatever makes her feel safe.
I know Helen must still be a little shell-shocked because she doesn’t say anything when we pull up to the Battle House Renaissance Hotel and I hand off my keys to the valet. A few steps up from the Road View Inn, no?
I go to ask for one room again, knowing there’s no way I’ll sleep tonight if she’s in a different room, but I stop myself. I don’t want to take any choices away from her, not again. Clearing my throat, I turn to her. “Do you want your own room or?—”
“No.” Her voice is quiet, and she curls her fingers into my jacket, holding me close. “I’d rather not be alone. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” I say quickly, relieved. But it’s more than just relief—I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like I would have been pacing like an animal all night, listening through the walls, checking the peephole every two seconds. Her muted tone and the way she’s clinging on to me… I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries anything, anything, again.
We make it upstairs to our room, and I realize my adrenaline is starting to come crashing down, too. I feel just about ready to collapse on the bed, but first I want to make sure Helen has everything she needs. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to order some food?”
Helen puzzles over this a moment, like she genuinely doesn’t know. “Not yet, I don’t think. I’m going to take a bath, if that’s all right.”
She sounds so dazed, I feel a lump forming in my throat. My God, she was almost kidnapped today. Who knows what those two psychopaths would have done to her? I honestly can’t let myself think about it too much. I’m more than half tempted to call off the whole search, just turn Kitty around and head straight back to Chicago. Except, Helen might not be safe there, either. It sounds like those mob guys have been following her for a while, and I know Shane and I were doing the same. Who knows who else might be hanging around?
Maybe we should hop on a plane, go somewhere new? I’m not sure at what point this became less about finding Dean than taking care of Helen, but that’s where we are now. We should fly somewhere unexpected. I wonder what it would take to convince her. Maybe I’ll entice her with someplace warm like a tropical beach, where we can swim and sleep all day, and be somewhere no one’s ever heard the name Dean Flanagan.
I realize this is crazy, of course. And I also realize I’ve been staring at Helen this whole time without saying anything. I try to smile, doing my best to let her know that everything’s okay now, we’re back to normal—or as normal as it gets after what happened today. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need. Take your time.”
She hesitates. “I think…I think they took my bag. Can I borrow one of your shirts?”
In the chaos of the afternoon, I hadn’t even noticed she didn’t have her luggage with her. They must have taken it when I went into the bathroom, probably hoping there’d be some clue inside as to where we were going. I always lock the doors, but I doubt that would be much of a roadblock to two mobster thugs. A sudden thought strikes me. “Did they get your phone?”
Helen shakes her head. “I threw it in the back seat, remember? After…”
After I accidentally saw those pictures of her in her underwear. I will not let myself think of that right now. The poor woman’s been through trauma. I will not be the gross guy who is picturing her in red lacy panties after she almost got kidnapped. “Right. Shirt. You need a shirt.” That’s a nice distraction, at least, and I need something active to do to help her. I dig through my own bag and pull out a clean T-shirt. “Lucky that I overpack, eh?”
She gives me a wan smile, but at least it’s a smile. It’s the first trace of real emotion I’ve seen on her face since the police arrived. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
Without intending to, I reach up, gently touching the edges of the bruise blooming on her cheek. I never knew I could have such warring emotions inside of me. Rage at that bastard for hurting her, but also this…tenderness. I see the tears pricking her eyes and I instinctively cup the side of her face, careful not to touch the sore spot. “I’ve got you,” I tell her earnestly. I wish I were more eloquent, that I could say it in a better, prettier way, but I need her to hear the words, even if they aren’t polished. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
Helen blinks rapidly, trying to smile, trying not to cry, as she nods into my palm. She reaches up, gripping my wrist for a moment.
Then she lets me go, and closes herself in the bathroom. A moment later, I hear the tub running. My mind instantly goes to Helen in that tub, warm water and bubbles enveloping her naked body…
Yep, that’s what happens in a bathtub. I try to nip that line of thought in the bud right then and there, but my dumb brain keeps getting stuck. It would be creepy enough under normal circumstances, to be so immature about a woman taking a bath that I can’t stop imagining her naked. But when you pair it with her almost getting kidnapped this afternoon, I feel like a complete dick. Seeing that guy grabbing her and throwing her to the ground awakened something almost primitive in me. I wanted to break every bone in his hand, throw him down onto the ground just to see how he liked it, let him and everyone else know that no one touches Helen like that and gets away with it. These aren’t bad emotions, in and of themselves. I want to make sure she’s safe, and that guy was trying to hurt her.
The problem is, the primitive man inside of me seems to have gotten loose with all that violence unleashed. I don’t want to just stop at keeping Helen safe. I want to claim her as my woman. I want to take her mind off everything that happened today. I want to be in that bathroom with her, rubbing her neck and massaging her soapy breasts and reaching up between her legs…
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? I run over the list of reasons why Helen and I will never work out, yet again. Because she’s an innocent and I’m an old jaded bastard. She’s a nun, or she was a nun, and she’s a good woman and a good person. She wants love, romance, babies. After what Vera pulled, I’m honestly not sure that’s something I can offer to anyone ever again. But Helen deserves that. She doesn’t deserve me out here fantasizing about her beautiful naked body or just how good I could make her feel…
I need something to do. Something active, to help her feel better. In her heart and mind and soul, not…anywhere else. I pace the room a moment, thinking through my options, before I realize the perfect thing.
Crossing the room to the phone, I dial down to the lobby. There’s no way I’m going to leave Helen in here on her own, but this place is fancy enough and I’m paying enough money for the room that maybe I won’t need to. “Hi, can I speak to the concierge, please? I need a favor…”