“I’ll have stuff delivered to your room,” Ivy rushed out before I could hang up.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Female stuff.”
I wasn’t going to ask. Asking would mean a ten-minute explanation about shit I didn’t care to know about.
“Thanks, Ivy.”
“Least I can do after my screw up. I’ll get the basics and have them sent right up, but ask her if there’s anything specific she needs.”
“Do I look like I’m running a day spa? The basics will do,” Zane grunted.
“You look like a man who needs to do as many good deeds as you can before you die so you don’t end up in the bad place.”
“The bad place?”
“Hell, Zane,” Ivy snapped.
“Seriously? That’s all it takes to—”
“I’m hanging up,” I told Zane before he could go on another tirade.
“Is it too soon—”
“Yes!”
I discounted.
I didn’t need Zane to tell me to “glove up” or “use protection.” Not only was I not fifteen, I had control over my body and emotions.
Famous last words.
Chapter 6
I didn’t know exactly how I ended up sitting in the tub. But there I was on my ass with water raining down from the showerhead. I’d scrubbed and scrubbed until that tiny bar of hotel soap was a useless sliver. I’d used both of the bottles of shampoo and conditioner in the little basket on the counter by the sink.
I was still dirty and the washcloth lying near my toes was stained brown.
I’d been in the shower a long time. The water hadn’t run cold yet but my mind had run away from me and I couldn’t stop replaying the last six months of my life. If I’d done one thing differently I wouldn’t be in Mexico. I wouldn’t have been sitting in the tub of an expensive hotel wondering how I’d lost everything, wondering if my landlord had sold all of my belongings or thrown them out. Wondering what happened to my car. Wondering when I’d become such a workaholic that I’d lost all of my friends to the point they never called—not to ask me to dinner, not to shoot the breeze, not to call the police when I went missing.
I didn’t have to wonder if my mom missed me, she was a nasty piece of work that only cared about herself and the next man she could sink her claws into. There could’ve been missing posters with my face on them and unless it read “REWARD” at the bottom she’d walk on by. Though her last three husbands seemed to have taken a liking to me so one of them might’ve called, but they’d been traded in for richer models.
One different choice.
Back in the beginning, if I hadn’t looked at that stupid file, I’d be sitting at my desk right now oblivious to my boss’s sick research.
And more people would die, you selfish twit.
After I’d covertly reached out to the reporter Evette London, I’d sent her everything. She’d been looking into the Timor-Leste land lease and once I saw the pictures, the horrific things Abrams had paid the rebels to do to the village, orphanage, and Peace Corps workers who were there, and found out Evette’s friends were among the workers, I knew she’d expose Abrams.
Especially after what had happened to Evette’s friend Kalee Solberg. She’d been left behind in that pit of dead girls.
Evette quickly became my only ally.
Or was she my scapegoat?
No! I’d carefully vetted Evette. She was a respected reporter with a reputable news organization. People would believe her even if the story was unbelievable.
There was a knock at the door and I scrambled to stand. My foot slipped on the stupid washcloth and I landed on my hip and elbow. One leg was cocked at a weird angle and I almost kneed myself in the chin. I’d barely untwisted when Myles called out.
“You okay in there?”
“I was until you scared the shit out of me,” I blurted out.
“Sorry, you’ve been in there a lot longer than I thought you’d be. I just wanted to make sure.”
“Thought you told me to run the hotel out of hot water.”
I heard his deep, rumbly chuckle through the door and my eyes drifted closed. I wasn’t sure I liked the way the sound made me feel. Something else I learned beyond not trusting anyone was not to trust myself. I’d made so many mistakes it was obvious I lacked the gene that made a person make good decisions.
I probably got that from my mother.
Though, I didn’t know who my father was, so he could’ve passed it down. But evidence suggested he had the self-preservation gene in spades. He’d fled before I was born. Too bad he hadn’t waited around for Marla to pop me out before he split.
“I didn’t think you had it in you to waste five days’ worth of water.”
I turned my head toward the door, and even though Myles couldn’t see me I still gave him a dirty look.
“Are you calling me environmentally irresponsible?”
“Nope. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t turned into a prune.”
He was still chuckling when I looked down at my wrinkly fingers.
“I’m getting out,” I shouted.
I wasn’t sure why I yelled my announcement but I felt compelled to make sure he was out of the room before I turned off the water.
Wait.
“How’d you get into the bedroom? I locked the door.”
“Picked it,” he told me breezily. “Hurry up, Namora food’s here.”
“Namora?”
“I’ll tell you about her when you get out. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
I waited a few moments before I stood and turned off the water. I reached out of the shower, grabbed a crisp, white towel, and brought it to my face.
Bleach.
I inhaled a second time just to breathe in the clean smell. When I pulled it away I was happy to see it was still white, unlike the washcloth. I stepped out of the tub and kept my back to the mirror. I wasn’t ready to face what I looked like. I’d caught a glimpse in the lobby and it was mortifying. I dried my legs and ignored the eight weeks’ worth of hair that had gone from prickly to nasty. I rushed through the rest of the drying-off process. I couldn’t stop and think about why my pits now looked like a man’s. I didn’t bother to finger-comb my ratty hair before I wrapped it in the towel turban-style and yanked a second towel to wrap around my body. If I did stop and think about why I hadn’t had access to a razor or why my hair was in knots, I would break. And I didn’t have time for a full-scale freak out.
I needed to keep my shit together and plan out my next move. Be prepared if Myles gave any indication he wasn’t the hero who’d rescued me but my newest captor. I had to stay sharp. Before Tamir had snatched me I was going to talk to Zane through Evette and weigh my options. He’d offered me protection—a safehouse, but how safe was this house? The only thing I knew about Z Corps was what I’d read online and as I found out the hard way the internet lied.
I opened the door and peeked out.
No Myles, and the door was shut. I dashed across the room and turned the knob.
Locked.
I found the items that Myles had purchased for me. I tore open the packaging for the underwear and froze. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t what I was holding. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was holding. They looked like something that would be worn in the 1940s. They were more than full-bottom briefs and they were pale blue and shiny. Yes, the underwear was shiny. I didn’t know there was such a thing as shiny underwear. And—lucky me!—there were three pairs. I turned them around and nearly busted a gut. The laughter that pelted out of my mouth was involuntary but once it started, I couldn’t contain it. The center seam was ruched and if that little detail wasn’t enough, from the hip to the seam on both sides there were strips made of teeny-tiny lace. Yes, there were ruffles to complete the look.