Page 35

“No,” I snap. “I’m trying to avoidchafing.”

His lips compress, and his jaw works as he processes that. “Quit stalling. I’m tired and have no idea what kind of trouble we might be up against tomorrow.”

I pull my arm back, no longer focused on the task but on what daybreak might bring. I swallow. My mouth runs dry as I slowly lower the dryer. “But we’re safe here?”

He exhales, his face tightening. “Safer than we were at the marina.”

It’s a nonanswer but just what I’m coming to expect from him. “But no one knows where we are?”

“Only people I can trust.”

My fingers curl around the handle of the hair dryer. “Hightower?”

He gives his reply quickly, and his expression shows no hint he’s lying to me. “They have… resources.”

They do if they can pluck a nurse out of thin air. “Resources and muscle,” I say.

Mick chuckles, shaking his head and grinning at my lame joke, making my stomach somersault. “Yeah. Caleb has that in spades.”

I open my mouth to sayhe’snot lacking in that area, but slam it shut so fast my teeth click.

His eyes lock onto mine, and the space between his eyebrows crinkles. “What?”

I clutch the hair dryer to my chest and shake off the thought. “Nothing. I’m… You’re right. We should get some sleep.”

He angles his head, and his eyebrow arches. “No more games?”

“None.”

He draws back, his eyes never leaving my face. “Make it quick.”

Nodding, I close the door in his face and let out a sigh that reeks of despondency. Silently, I hang the hair dryer, put my bra back on the shower rail, and unwrap a toothbrush from its plastic wrapping. As I squeeze the toothpaste out of the tiny tube, I glance at the sewing kit. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t touched it.

Mick might have a lot of faith in these Hightower people, but he can afford to. He’s armed, his entire future isn’t hanging in the balance, and his insurance policy isn’t currently wedged into a flimsy piece of cardboard that could easily be thrown in the trash.

I finish up, avoid looking at my reflection in the mirror, and exit without switching the light off. Mick is waiting for me, standing beside his half of the bed, but he doesn’t look prepared for sleep. He looks like he’s preparing for battle.

“One more thing,” he says.

“What?”

His eyes drift over me. “I need to pat you down.”

My eyes pop as he steps closer. “You arenotgoing to frisk me.”

His face clouds. “You hid a gun. I won’t take the chance you’ve hidden another weapon on your person.”

I choke out a laugh. “On my person? And where exactly on mypersonwould I have hidden it?” I pluck at the ridiculously oversized pants to emphasize my point and then yank my cardigan off. “I have no pockets and no capability of carrying anything, let alone a weapon.”

His hand slides over his face. “Look, just put your hands on the wall,please?”

Glaring, I pivot and slap my palms on the wall, looking at the ceiling as he approaches. I should have guessed this was coming. I already know he’s a hypocrite, and he’s going to prove it by groping me. Disappointment settles in my midsection and solidifies my resolve to get out of here as quickly as possible.

If he wants to make it easy for me, fine. I’ve dealt with worse.Somuch worse.

Tensing my muscles in preparation, I close my eyes and try not to hold my breath when I feel his hands on my arms. He starts with my shoulders and gently pats in random places, not following any real system, so I open one eye, wondering if he’s even looking. Twisting my neck as far as I can turn, I snort when my suspicions are confirmed.

He’s patting me down by feel, but he’s staring at his feet. “Turn around,” he growls.