Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ONCE THEY WERE ALONE, Elvis shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, the movement automatic, practiced. Then he turned to face her. “Might as well get comfortable. This is where you’re staying tonight.”
It wasn’t a question. The certainty in his voice hit her harder than she expected, reminding her of the chaotic spin her life had just taken. Her chest tightened as if her ribs had shifted inward.
She simply stared at him. The room had two beds, but that meant Gideon, the one she heard Bobby call Hawk, would have to sleep somewhere else. “I don’t want to put anyone out,” she told him, folding her arms across herself, suddenly aware of how small she felt in the quiet room.
He studied her for a moment, eyes searching her face like he was cataloging every flicker of doubt. “You’re not putting anyone out,” he told her. “I got you into this mess, and they’re helping me get you out. Right now, you’re the priority.”
Something in his tone—steady, protective, and utterly sincere—made her throat close. It wasn’t bravado necessarily. Nor was it heroics to impress her. It was simply fact, delivered with the same calm authority he probably used in combat zones and crisis rooms.
She nodded, because trusting him felt easier than arguing. It felt like the easiest thing she had ever done.
She glanced around the room, suddenly extremely aware that they were alone.
No marshals. No Silvers. No one was tapping at a keyboard just a few feet away.
Roman wasn’t bombarding her with questions she didn’t feel like answering.
It was just the two of them, standing several feet apart in a hotel room that suddenly felt too quiet, too intimate.
Silence settled in—not empty, but charged. She could feel it humming beneath her skin.
Delaney shifted her weight, fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sweater. Elvis cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it slightly more disheveled than before. Neither of them quite knew what to do with their hands. Or their eyes.
They weren’t teenagers sneaking kisses behind the gym bleachers anymore. They were adults carrying scars and secrets and fifteen years of absence. And she had no idea what to do with that right then.
She caught him watching her and looked away, then immediately regretted it.
God, this is awkward.
It wasn’t a bad awkward, though, but more of a tender awkward, one born from too much history and not enough time to unpack it.
“I, uh…” Elvis gestured vaguely toward the beds. “Hawk was using the other one, so you can take that one. He won’t be back tonight, obviously. He’s with Blaze next door.”
“All right,” she said, though she hadn’t asked. Hadn’t even thought about it, to be honest. When had she had the time to even think about anything other than the next step she had to take?
Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the muted lamps, the drawn curtains, the faint glow of city lights bleeding through the edges.
She suddenly felt hyperaware of everything—her heartbeat, the way her heels scuffed softly against the carpet, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably him.
He took a small step forward, then stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure if crossing that space was allowed.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
She almost laughed, the smile pushing up her cheeks. He was always the protector, even back then. “I’m fine,” she assured him. Then, softer, “Thank you.”
His jaw tightened as he worked it, and he nodded once, pushing his hands into his pockets. He looked as lost as she felt right then.
They stood there for another moment, two people circling something fragile and familiar, unsure where to touch it without breaking it.
Delaney finally exhaled and gestured toward the bathroom. “I’m going to wash up. It’s been a… long day.”
“Of course,” he said, stepping to the side. “Take your time.”
As she turned away, she felt his eyes on her back, steady and watchful, and it made something in her chest loosen even as her nerves fluttered.
She knew what Bobby had in mind, what he hoped for.
That the two of them could pick right back up where they had left off, but was that even possible?
Could they find their way back to each other after everything, after the paths their lives had taken since the night she disappeared on him?
She sighed. She didn’t know. But either way, they were standing in the same room now, breathing the same air. For the moment, that was enough.
She moved toward the bathroom on instinct, needing water on her face, a moment to breathe without the weight of eyes on her.
Leaning both palms against the cool marble counter, she stared at her reflection, breathing in through her nose, out through parted lips, trying to steady the sudden rush of everything crowding her chest.
She barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes too bright.
A couple of hours ago, she’d been calculating threat vectors and firewall vulnerabilities.
Now she was standing barefoot on hotel tile, pulse racing, replaying the way Bobby had looked at her like she mattered more than anything else in the room.
You’re the priority.
The words echoed through her like a bell.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cool water over her wrists, then her face, grounding herself in the sensation.
God.
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how much she willed it.
She hadn’t expected this part—the way being near him would cause her to toss her precautions so quickly.
She’d spent years building walls inside herself, stacking logic on top of survival on top of discipline.
She’d learned how to disappear emotionally just as thoroughly as the marshals had taught her to vanish physically.
But Robert Jenkins had always been her weak point.
She reached for a washcloth, moving slowly, deliberately, as she cleaned her face and brushed her teeth with her finger, aware of every small sound in the quiet room beyond the door.
The faint creak of the mattress as he must be settling down.
The soft shift of his weight. The air conditioning kicking on as the temperature in the room changed.
But even in the bathroom’s quiet, she could feel him. He was right there.
The man she’d loved at sixteen and was ready to marry.
The man who’d held her in the back of his pickup and promised forever like it was just that simple. And she had believed him. Ready to go wherever he led her.
The man who now stood between her and danger without hesitation.
Her throat tightened.
She leaned closer to the mirror, studying herself the way she hadn’t in a long time. She had different hair, both in style and color, and her eyes were older, curves softer even if fuller.
She was a woman shaped by loss and hiding and too many nights spent alone in unfamiliar cities.
But would he see all of that? Would he notice the woman she was right then after everything she had been through?
Or would he still see the girl who used to steal his hoodies and laugh too loud at his stupid jokes, or the way he sang off key during Elvis Presley movies?
Her pulse skipped as warmth curled low in her belly, unexpected and undeniable. It startled her—not because she didn’t want him, but because she’d forgotten what it felt like to want someone this completely.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
This is dangerous, she knew.
Not in the obvious way, but in a softer, quieter way.
In a way that made her chest ache and her skin feel too tight, and her heart whisper things she wasn’t ready to say out loud.
Her body betrayed her in small, undeniable ways, as her pulse fluttered like it couldn’t decide where to land. She leaned forward over the sink for a moment, bracing herself, breathing through it.
This was dangerous territory.
Not just physically, but emotionally as well.
She thought of him standing in the main room, broad shoulders tense beneath his shirt, jaw set like he was bracing for impact even now. She could picture him sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely, pretending he wasn’t listening for every sound she made.
Guarding her.
He would always guard her.
The realization softened something inside her. She had never stopped loving him. She had simply learned how to survive without him.
She took one last steadying breath and reached for the door handle. Her body felt warm. Awake. Too aware.
She shut off the light, and when she stepped back into the room, her eyes found him instantly, sitting on the bed closest to the window, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped, exactly as she’d imagined.
Her heart stuttered.
He looked up when she emerged, his gaze sweeping over her with a quiet intensity, as if committing her to memory.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, quick, short. “I think so.”
He eased himself off the bed, crossing the space between them with unhurried steps. He stopped just short of touching her, giving her room to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
“I hate that this is happening to you,” he said.
Her voice came out softly. “You didn’t do this.”
“I still hate it. And I set it in motion, to be honest, by asking Blaze to do that search.”
They stood there for a second longer, the air thick between them, and then he leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t desperate.
It was careful. Familiar. His hand came up to cradle her jaw, thumb caressing along her cheekbone as if confirming she was real. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself in the solid warmth of him.
She kissed him back slowly, letting herself remember how it felt to fit against him, how his presence had always made the world quieter.
When they broke apart, she didn’t step away. Instead, she turned and sat on the edge of his bed.
He watched her, brows knitting slightly. “Del—”