Hostile Territory - Marie James Page 0,56

in the flowery scent of her hair. Thankfully she’s still in long sleeves and lounge pants. If she came in here with as little clothes as I saw her wear in the hotel suite while she slept, this night would turn out differently. There are a million things we could do to take her mind off the situation, but I’m trained to avoid unnecessary complications.

And Annalise Grimaldi is easily becoming the biggest complication I’ve ever faced.

Chapter 24

Anna

I know he’s gone before I even open my eyes to the light filtering in from the curtains. I didn’t wake when he crawled out of bed, but my body somehow knew. My dreamless sleep turned to images of me running for my life, always looking over my shoulder, watching as the masked men chasing me drew closer.

I could regret coming in here last night. Scratch that. I should regret coming in here last night, but I just can’t conjure an ounce of contrition. I slept like the dead in his arms, even though his touching me wasn’t what I expected to happen. I wanted to be near someone, even if he was sleeping.

Of course he wasn’t sleeping. He’s a damn commando. I wouldn’t be surprised if he heard me climb out of the bed in the other room.

His arms around me, the heat of his skin, the soft brush of his breath on my neck—

“Nope.” I sit upright in bed and stare at the bedroom door.

He didn’t close it all the way, but there are no sounds from downstairs filtering into the room.

Leaving his bed in a tangle of sheets is intentional. I don’t want him to forget that I was there. No matter how much he tried to keep me from knowing what holding me did to him, the truth was below the belt, his hardness impossible to escape.

As I cross the hall to the bathroom, I run fingers through my tangled hair. I avoid the mirror for as long as I can, but when I face it fully for the first time, I realize that even a good night’s sleep isn’t enough to keep the purple bruising from under my eyes. My stress levels are through the roof, and the evidence shows. My skin no longer has the same glow, my hair is in desperate need of a blowout, and the paint on my nails is dull. I’ve never felt so frumpy in my life.

I grab a change of clothes from my room and head back into the bathroom for a shower. This time, in the light of day, I feel safer and manage to wash and condition my hair. A quick search of the cabinets doesn’t turn up a blow dryer, so my damp locks just end up in a tangle on the top of my head. I don’t bother with makeup, and I frown at imagining what Dani would say if she saw me walking down the stairs in jeans, a loose shirt meant for lounging, makeup-less with my hair a mess.

“She’d probably be more worried about where you slept last night than your appearance,” I mumble as I cross the room, heading to the kitchen.

I huff a laugh because I know that’s not true. She would cup her hand over her mouth as her eyes skated over my body. She’d expertly somehow insult my appearance while giving me shit about sleeping in the same bed as her ex. She’s a pro at encompassing all faults into a single conversation. It’s a skill she perfected many years ago.

Deacon isn’t in the kitchen, but the note on the counter directing me to the oven for breakfast brings a smile to my face. Having not eaten much last night, my stomach growls when I pull the oven door open and grab the plate of food. I’m not big on eating first thing in the morning, but I scarf down the eggs, sausage links, and toast while standing at the counter.

I wash the dishes and don’t waste another second in the house. I refuse to let things get any weirder between Deacon and me and avoiding him all day will only do just that.

For some reason, I expect to find him sipping coffee on the front porch like I’ve seen men do in western movies, but the chairs are vacant. Lifting my arm to ward off the bright sunlight, I cross the yard and head to the huge barn across the field on the off chance that is where Deacon is. The

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