The Secret Passageway
Maddox
It was after midnight when my phone rang in the dark. Wide awake, I rolled over and reached out to snag it from the unfamiliar nightstand.
Instead, I smacked the phone onto the floor.
Damn it.
The sheet slid down my bare chest as I leaned over the edge of the bed, finally grabbing the phone just as the ringing stopped.
The screen glowed in my hand.
A missed call.
Delaney.
My pulse kicked as I turned to stare at the bathroom door – the same one I'd been staring at before the ringing started. On the other side of the connecting bathroom, there she was.
Maybe naked.
Maybe not.
Definitely not asleep.
Just like me.
Huh.
In the darkness, I could barely make out the door. Even so, I kept staring and wondering.
I debated calling her back.
Instead, I waited to see if she'd leave a voicemail.
She didn't.
A drunk dial?
Maybe.
But probably not. She'd had at least two glasses of wine earlier, but she'd seemed perfectly fine.
After Ryder and Tessa had kidnapped our luggage, we'd spent maybe ten minutes settling into our rooms before returning to visit around the fire.
We'd been given separate bedrooms with a shared bathroom in the middle.
Tessa hadn't even asked if we were sharing a room. She'd just put us in separate ones like it was normal and expected.
This wasn't a problem.
I'd been planning to ask for separate rooms all along – if only to avoid putting Delaney on the spot.
But it was Ryder who'd leaned close to say with a laugh that if we wanted to visit, we could take the secret passageway through the middle.
The bathroom.
Thus, my staring.
I returned my gaze to the phone. Maybe Delaney needed help – a stuck suitcase or a spider that needed killing. Or maybe she just wanted to talk.
Screw it.
I pressed the screen to call her back.
She answered immediately with a whispered, "Hello?"
It made me whisper, too. "Is something wrong?"
"No." She hesitated. "Well…maybe."
My grip tightened on the phone. "What?"
"I'm really curious about something. And I can't sleep."
Funny, I was curious, too. What was she wearing? What wasn't she wearing? Was her hair tousled against the pillow?
I whispered, "Curious about what?"
"My car."
"It's perfectly safe. I had it moved to a private garage." I smiled in the darkness. "Don't worry, okay?"
"I'm not worried. And I don't mean right now. I meant a few months ago when I left Chicago. Something really funny happened with my car."
Oh.
Right.
I said nothing, shifting onto my back as I slid an arm behind my head.
After a moment, Delaney continued. "When I went back to the parking garage – you know, by that hotel that wouldn't let me check in – I'm almost positive the car was in a different spot."
"Nope."
Sounding amused, she whispered, "And how would you know?"
I knew, because I'd been clear in my instructions. After the car's alarm was fixed, I'd asked Cal to make sure the vehicle was returned to the same spot they'd found it.
This hadn't been the original plan. I'd meant to have it moved to the garage connected to Tessa's building. But with Delaney and I on the outs, the last thing I'd wanted was to announce that I'd relocated her car – and without permission.
Still, I wasn't buying what she'd just said about the car showing up in a different spot. Cal was no slouch.
Even if the exact spot hadn't been available, he would've parked it close enough so Delaney wouldn't notice.
And yet, apparently, she had. Why?
On the phone, she whispered, "I know you're still there. I can hear you breathing."
I almost laughed. "No, you can't."
"Alright, fine. Technically, I can't hear you, but I'm pretty sure you are."
"Breathing?" I shifted in the sheets. "Only pretty sure?"
"Well, you're not dead, are you?"
Again, I smiled. "Not that I know of."
"And you still haven't answered my question."
She sounded so stubborn that I had to tease her. "There was a question?"
"Yes, actually. And I'd kind of like an answer. How would you know my car was in the same spot?"
"Maybe I don't know."
She hesitated. "But you know something."
"Maybe."
"Are you gonna tell me?"
For some reason, I still couldn't stop smiling. "Maybe," I said again.
"You do realize, I have ways of making you talk."
Even though she was still whispering, something in her tone had shifted. I returned my attention to the door, and my pulse gave another kick. "Do you now?"
She snickered. "Don't make me come over there."
"Make you, huh?"
"I'm serious." But she didn't sound serious. She sounded something else. Maybe flirty. Maybe sexy. Maybe something in the middle.
Whatever it was, I liked it. I went completely still, my attention locking on the bathroom door. "Oh, yeah? Then prove it."