One side of his mouth went up in a sexy half-grin.
Good God.
“Dog wants out. Hank’s delayed. Go back to sleep.” I nodded, stunned silent at the amount of information he was able to share using the fewest words possible.
He stepped aside, Shamus walked through the door, tail wagging, and he closed it.
I laid there for a second, thinking there was no way in hel I was going to get back to sleep.
Then I went back to sleep.
* * * * *
I woke up, again felt confused, again realized what was happening and I got out of bed.
I tried the inner door and found it was a bathroom. I hauled my shit into it, did my mega-morning-preparations (even though I forgot my body wash, I found an unopened bar of Irish Spring under the sink and I forgot my hair-smoothing lotion so I had to make do with just my finishing wax). I hadn’t done half bad with my outfit, considering I was half asleep. Rich forest green, low rider corduroys, oatmeal, shawl-necked cashmere cardigan that I wore without a shel , belted at the waist with a wide chocolate suede belt and matching suede flats.
Once I was done, I walked through the other room to the door, needing coffee, needing food, needing to check on Shamus and needing to know where Hank was.
I tried to open the door, gave it a yank, my hand slipped off the handle and the door didn’t move.
I stared at it and tried again.
The handle didn’t twist and the door stil didn’t move.
I was locked in.
I felt panic edge through me.
“What the f**k?” I whispered.
Then I heard a disembodied, “Roxie.”
I looked around searching for the source of the sound.
It came back.
“This is the control room. Hang tight. We’re bringin’
someone in.”
“What?” I asked, feeling stupid, talking to the room.
“We’re bringin’ someone in to the holding room. We need you to hang tight. Once he’s secured, we’l come and get you.”
“Holy cow,” I whispered. Then I panicked.
“It’s not –” I started to say.
“It isn’t Flynn,” the voice interrupted me.
I let out a deep breath. Then I took in a sharp one, realizing he knew why I was panicked.
Okay, whatever, it’s not like my life being certifiably f**ked is a secret. I thought.
I sat on the arm of the reclining chair and listened to see if I could hear them bringing in whoever.
I couldn’t.