They retreated.
She turned to us. “You said a quiet place?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Will he walk with you?”
I couldn’t be sure. “Morgan?”
Morgan nodded, and I guided him toward the door, holding his upper arm and walking sideways. We got to the revolving door and Morgan pulled against my grip. She opened the regular door off to the side with a sign that said Emergency exit only.
Mrs. Doreen stepped out of the way, and I guided Morgan through the door. Dog followed, bumping past my legs. He turned, backing up and forcing anyone too close to move away.
I made a mental note to buy him a ribeye.
Crystal chandeliers broke apart the warm light; Morgan tipped his head up, his gaze following things I couldn’t see.
“This way.”
A few people stared and I shot back a look that made them lose interest.
Mrs. Doreen led us to the lobby, past modern furniture with pleather cushions, sleek steel frames and black marble tabletops, the in-hotel restaurant, a bar, and a twelve-foot aquarium with fish as big as dinner plates.
She took a key card from the folds of her dress and slid it through the reader beside a door. “Here you go.” She moved aside.
The room was small with a simple desk, a couple of chairs, computer, and a bookcase loaded with binders.
“Do you need me to turn off the lights?”
“Morgan?”
Without the dance of rainbows glinting off the ceiling, he found me again. Morgan shook his head. I helped him sit in one of the chairs. Dog put his head in his lap.
Mrs. Doreen smiled. “I’ll see to it your luggage gets loaded on a cart. Do you know what room you’re in?”
“No, Ma’am. We called and they took my credit card and made a reservation.”
“Your name?”
“Grant Kessler-Kade.”
“Wait here, Mr. Kessler-Kade. I’ll get you your room keys.”
The door clicked shut, silencing the outside world, leaving behind Morgan’s rapid breathing and the thump of Dog’s tail.
“Hey.” I knelt in front of Morgan. “You okay?”
He bit his lips and tears filled his eyes. Shame made shadows in the brown.
“It’s okay, Morgan.”
His shoulder jerked. “I’m s-s-s—”
“No. Don’t be. You’ve done great.” So far he’d done better than I ever imagined. I had a feeling there were two big reasons why. One had yellow fur and a weaponized tail, and the other the mission Morgan had set himself on. “You’ve done so good.”
Dog rumbled.
“See, even he agrees with me.”
A smile broke through on Morgan’s face, but his gaze remained elsewhere.
Minutes passed and Morgan’s breathing slowed. I joined Morgan in petting Dog, who threatened to melt into a puddle of skin and fur.
After a long time, Morgan said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not…” He swallowed, and the remnants of his recent battle tightened the tendons in his arms. “For not getting mad.”
“Jesus, why would I get mad?”
The eye contact was fleeting but it was more than enough to remind me why Morgan had a fine scar above his eyebrow, another across his nose, and chin.
There’d been a time in Morgan’s life when the person who supposedly loved him took his shame of Morgan’s reactions out on him with his fists.
“I just couldn’t…” He shivered. “It was too loud, Grant. Too loud and bright. And it wouldn’t stop.”
I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Morgan. It’s okay to rely on me sometimes. That’s what marriage is about.”
A knock sounded at the door and Mrs. Doreen peeked in. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got your bags in your room.” She held out a small envelope. “You can take the handicapped elevator. It’s more likely to be empty. It’s right around the corner.”
I took the key cards. “Thanks.”
“You look better.” She smiled at Morgan, but he’d gone back to petting Dog and tossing thoughts with the hand I’d been holding. “No rush on leaving my office. I don’t use it much anyhow. But when you get to your room, I took the liberty and added a couple extras to your gift basket. I hope you won’t mind.”
She was gone before I could ask what.
“She’s nice,” Morgan said.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Grant…” Morgan squished one of Dog’s ears, and the animal sighed so hard his lips flapped.
“What, sweetheart?”
“Do…you think that guard would have…” He gritted his teeth and swallowed several times. “Do you think he would have shot Dog?”
Damn. Why the hell did Morgan always have to ask the hard questions. “I hope not.”
Morgan nodded. “We can go now.”
“You sure?”
He stood, and I held his face, but Morgan was the one who tipped up his chin.
He claimed my mouth—a press of warm velvet, a touch of heated silk. Best of all was when he looked at me and everything he couldn’t say was right there in his eyes.
Chapter Six
I was sure Mrs. Doreen had given us the wrong room number and keys, but our bags sitting by the sofa suggested otherwise.
Because I’d reserved a standard double occupancy with a king-sized bed, not a one-bedroom apartment-style room, with kitchenette, a balcony overlooking a park, and a tub with a jacuzzi.
Morgan walked over to the window. The wrought iron railing sliced up the late afternoon sun into glowing columns stretching over the peach-colored rug. Morgan wiggled his fingers through the sunbeams and the wedding band on his finger chipped off pieces of light.
A gift basket as big as Dog occupied the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Wonder what the hell they needed a basket that big for?”
I left the key cards on the end table and turned the basket around. Green cellophane crinkled under my fingers. The hazy image of bottles, toothbrushes, toothpaste, a booklet, another envelope, and…a tennis ball? I squinted. I had to be seeing things. I pulled the ribbon and the plastic parted.
It was a tennis ball, along with a variety of other dog toys, and a big white knuckle bone. It was obvious then why the basket needed to be big. Taking up most of the space was a fifteen-pound bag of dog food.
I’d seen the brand in the past carried at one of those specialty stores where they sold toenail polish, sleep foam dog beds, and rhinestone collars.
Yeah, and they sold hats and sweaters too.
Dog meandered over and stuck his fat head in the basket and made off with the bone before I could catch him.
“You think he’ll be okay with that?”
Morgan dropped his hand back to his side. “It’s a sterilized beef-bone. He should be fine. If he bites of pieces, I’ll take it away.”
“You think this stuff will upset his stomach? He’s not used to dog food made with…” I squinted at the label. “Duck, chickpeas, sweet potatoes, whole egg…”
“Probably. But we might not survive if he farts.”
Dog jerked his head up.