Chapter 5 #2
I hadn’t been eating. Or sleeping. At the end of the op, I’d been alone and scared as fuck, expecting Mira Stein to discover I was with ESP and rat me out to Malte and Timo, who would have beaten me to death and tossed me in the fucking river without giving it a second thought.
“Sit the fuck down,” he said, moving to the telephone and picking it up.
I was too tired to argue. I felt like I could sleep standing up. Being in Locke’s presence felt like the safest I’d been in ten months.
“Fine,” I muttered, dropping onto the sofa, kicking off my shoes, and stretching out. I closed my eyes for a minute, listening to the deep, rhythmic sound of him telling someone to do something. I wasn’t quite sure what and honestly didn’t care.
Sometime later, I awoke to the light clatter of dishes being set down. I was curled on the sofa with a hotel duvet on top of me, warm and comfortable in the air-conditioned room.
“Come eat,” Locke said.
“I already ate,” I croaked, voice rough from sleep and exhaustion.
“Don’t care. Come eat more.”
I sat up and tried to get my bearings.
Amsterdam.
The mission was over, and I was headed home.
“Yeah, okay. Gonna find a bathroom first.” I made my way to the first open door I found and moved into the bedroom in search of a toilet. Locke’s suitcase was open on a luggage stand, and his Dopp kit was on the bathroom counter.
After emptying my bladder and washing my hands, I snooped through his toiletries, going so far as to take a picture so I could snoop in more detail later.
It wasn’t creepy; it was good intelligence work.
When I made my way back to the main room, Locke was sitting at the small dining table, scrolling his phone. “Eat,” he said without looking up.
I moved to the table, suddenly interested in whatever smelled so good. It was French onion soup, a fresh Caesar salad, and a basket full of various rolls. Nothing too heavy for this late at night, which I appreciated.
“You’re not eating?” I asked as I dipped the spoon under the cheese layer of the soup bowl.
“I’d just come in from a business dinner when I saw you,” he said, setting his phone down and reaching for the cocktail in front of him. “Who was the man you were with?”
The soup was incredible. I quickly swallowed another spoonful. “What, at the bar? I didn’t catch his name.”
His eyes darkened. “The man who left you in Europe. You were with someone at the bar?”
I blinked at him, suddenly realizing my mistake. “Oh. Nobody. Nothing.”
He simply stared at me until I confessed. “I picked up a guy at the bar. He was in the men’s room when you found me. We were going up to his room.”
Locke’s eyes flicked to my backpack, which had been part of my cover. I’d lived out of the one bag the entire time I’d been in Germany. If I never saw the damned thing again, I’d be happy.
I realized he was putting two and two together and getting twelve. He clearly thought I’d come to this hotel bar to pick up a rich guy for a free stay in a nicer place than I’d ever be able to afford. I made a mental note not to let him see the hotel key card in my back pocket.
“Thank you for the food,” I said, trying to change the subject.
“You should take better care of yourself.” He sounded irked.
“You make it sound so easy,” I said, irked, too, for another reason.
I’d spent most of this year in degradation and discomfort to keep at least ten large shipments of illegal weapons from reaching mainland Europe and getting into the hands of ultra-right terrorists, which would’ve destabilized the entire fucking world, including his precious shipping empire.
Locke’s jaw flexed, and his frown intensified before he blew out a breath. “I’ll take you home.”
I stared at him in disbelief. He’d said it like he was doing me some giant favor. What an egotistical ass. “I don’t need your fucking charity.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have a plane, and I’m headed to New York in the morning anyway.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You really going to waste your money just to save your pride?”
I was so tired, I wanted to cry. If this was how I felt in a temporary moment of weakness, I couldn’t imagine how people who really lived in dire straits all the time felt. “I’m going to go.”
Locke stood and moved toward me just as I stumbled over the foot of the table.
When he curled his hands into fists instead of reaching to steady me, I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed.
“Stay,” he demanded in a tone that probably worked on all his underlings.
I glared at him. “No.”
“Please,” he ground out. “I already told you we’re not having sex. So just fucking… stay, okay? Get some decent sleep.”
His reminder that he wasn’t interested in me sexually should have been a relief. I was too tired, too worn-out, even though I wanted him. Badly.
But it stung nonetheless.
The set of his jaw was counterbalanced by the concern in his eyes and the furrow between his eyebrows.
Always so damn serious.
I wanted to ask him why he cared so much about where I slept. Why he’d somehow made me his responsibility. But I didn’t think he’d answer honestly.
Locke Maris was a difficult nut to crack. And he obviously had no interest in me cracking his nut, which was probably for the best. It was too messy, and I cared too much about my career.
For tonight, though, I could at least allow myself to stay with someone I could trust.
“Okay.”