He looks at the hundreds and his eyebrows go up. “Check in is three p.m., not three a.m. You want a room now, got to charge you like you’ve been here all night.”
“Fine,” I say.
He slips the cash off the counter. “Got to keep the extra for damage deposit. You don’t break nothing, you get it back when you check out.”
“You’ve got a key for me?” I ask impatiently as Adri sways on her feet next to me.
He scans a couple of cards through the machine, hands them to us, and points to the stairs outside the door. “You’re in twenty-six. Just up those stairs. Check out is noon. You here later, got to charge an extra night.”
I take the keys without another word and head the direction he pointed. I gesture Adri up the stairs ahead of me.
She’s shaking, shock fully setting in. When she gets past it, she’s going to want answers. If I listen to my gut, I’d spill everything. I know it’s the only way to earn her trust and keep her. But then I’d have to take my family and go, because, above all, I have to protect Sherm.
Wannabe’s words scroll through my mind again. But the real money’s the five hundred grand for bringing the little one in alive. What would the Savocas want with Sherm? The mystery snowballs, each question that passes through my mind giving rise to ten more.
I look up at Adri and realize we’re at the door and she’s waiting. I slip a key into the slot, swing the door open. Inside, the space is small, with room for nothing more than a queen-sized bed and a desk. There’s a hanging rod on the back wall next to a sink. The bathroom door is next to that.
Adri is staring at the bed as she steps through the door. I try not to think about her skin against mine, the feel of moving inside her. I try not to crave it. It’s not fair to her if I’m leaving. And I know I am. I have to.
But when her eyes catch on mine and they fill with tears, what I know is, I’ll give her anything she wants, even if it’s answers.
I pull her into my arms and hold her. “We’re okay, Adri. No one’s going to find us here.”
She starts shaking harder. I hold her tighter to keep her together. I tip my face into her hair, breathe her in, hate myself for putting her through this. She clings to me as if I was her lifeline instead of the man who nearly got her killed.
I stroke my hand down her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
She’s never been around death and violence. She’s not part of my world. She can’t just turn off the adrenaline.
I hold her until her shaking slows, then back away and rub my thumbs over her damp cheeks.
She reaches for my jacket and slips it off my shoulders. My muscles tense as she starts lifting my T-shirt over my head.
“Adri,” I warn.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you.”
I’d forgotten about that. I lift my arms as she pulls my shirt over my head. It sticks to the wound and she moves around behind to gently pry it away.
Her fingers on my skin send a shudder through me. I fight to turn off my body’s reaction.
“This is bad,” she says, her voice still shaky. She tugs me toward the bed and pushes me down. “Sit.”
“It’s nothing.”
She turns for the sink. “You’re a liar.”
I can’t see her face as she says it, but there’s accusation in her tone, and I know she’s talking about more than the wound on my back.
She comes back with a wet washcloth and a towel and settles behind me on the bed. I hold my breath as she cleans me up, not because it hurts the wound, but because it hurts my heart.
“This is deep, Rob. You need to go to the hospital.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s bleeding,” she counters. “It needs stitches.”
If I could reach it, I’d stitch it up myself. “It can wait till I get home. Lee will do it.”
Her hand stops moving on my back. “Lee stitches you up?”
“When I need it.”
“I’ll do it,” she says.
I look over my shoulder at her as she stands and reaches for her bag. She roots through it and comes out with a hotel sewing kit, then looks at me.