his sex appeal and of the bed taking up most of the room behind her. He lobbed the shopping bag onto the foot of the bed from where he stood, without even looking. “As for the driver—a hundred American could buy him a new car. Don’t worry about it.”
Since he wasn’t moving farther into the room, she didn’t, either, but the narrow opening between the bathroom door and mirrored closet was forcing her to stand closer to him than she felt comfortable with and gave her a fantastic view of his backside. Isis was confused and disgusted with herself. Men had died. How could she be even remotely aware of Thorne’s body, his very alive body, when things could’ve fallen apart so easily? He could have died. She could have died. And what the hell was going to happen when the authorities discovered the bodies in the underpass?
“First thing in the morning, we have to report both the accident and the men who attacked us, and see if anyone retrieved our luggage from the cab.”
Not that she was looking forward to reliving their experience, nor going to the local authorities, who could just as easily accuse them of both crimes. They hadn’t shown any concern for her father when they’d found him wandering the desert alone and injured. In fact, at first they’d accused him of murdering his crew himself. Isis shuddered and rubbed her upper arms, more for comfort than warmth.
“Already done.”
How long had she been in the shower? She locked gazes with him. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve gone with you.” And hated every second of it, but she should’ve been with him. She at least owed him the courtesy of standing beside him since he’d gotten her through the incident alive. “What time do we have to go in for questioning?”
“We don’t. It’s all squared away.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. Moves like that took bribes. Expensive bribes. “Thorne, I can’t afford baksheesh. I told you, I’m doing this on a shoestring—”
“You didn’t mention that, actually,” he pointed out dryly. “But don’t worry about it. I assure you, it’s taken care of. I know people.”
Isis bit back a sharp reply. He’d saved her life tonight, and his leg must be killing him. Maybe his royal lineage got him places she couldn’t go, like the museum. She blew out a breath, determined to be fair. “Your networking skills are impressive. Remember that I hired you, and that I’m responsible for expenses, okay?”
Heavy bribes—baksheesh—were the cost of doing business here. Everyone expected them, especially the authorities. They weren’t in her budget.
“I told you not to worry.” He stared at her as if that was all that needed to be said.
She lifted her chin in defiance. Okay, three times was enough. She needed to reestablish the ground rules. “Seriously? You work for me. I think we’d better establish who’s the boss, and who signs your paycheck.” Isis dropped the finger she’d pointed at him and stuck her hand in her pocket. Anger was good. Healthy. Much better than finding his arrogance sexy.
“Zak Stark signs my paycheck, and while we’re here, I’m the boss. If you don’t like it, feel free to hie your pert arse back to Seattle and wait for my report.” His British accent became more clipped and pronounced and she got the feeling he’d prefer it if she left.
“You can be such an ass.” She said it without rancor. He was who he was. And it was clear he wasn’t going to change his tune just because… what? She was Isis Magee? A paying client? Her lips almost twitched as she realized she was giving herself a pep talk. Right?!
“So I’ve been told.” He stuck his fingertips in his front pockets. Loose, but controlled. “We have no idea who those men were, or if they’ll come after us again.”
“The ones you left alive and still able to walk, you mean?” she demanded, matching his sarcasm. She refused to believe the police had let him get away with murder. Even if it had been warranted. There was more to Connor Thorne than met the eye. She had to stop letting his appeal distract her.
“Yes, those. And whatever friends and relatives they want to cut in on the deal.”
Reality check, Isis Cleopatra. She fell back against the bathroom doorjamb with a thump. “You don’t think it was random, do you?” Oh, God. She’d been hoping her suspicions were wrong. It was hard to maintain her anger at him,