Holding Strong
Page 32
“We have to clear out,” he said while finding her a pair of jeans and her underwear, “and I figure we may as well head home.”
“Oh.” Little by little the sleepy daze cleared from her eyes.
Odds were the cough medicine had wiped her out as much as illness.
She started to leave the bed so he went to help her.
“I need the restroom.”
“Okay, but we have to hurry.” A voice came over an intercom of sorts in the room, directing guests to follow the guidelines on the backs of their entry doors. He led her to the bathroom, put the jeans and panties on the vanity, and stepped back. “Where’s your phone?”
“Nightstand,” she said, and shoved the door closed.
He saw she’d missed a call on her cell and on the room phone. Everything about this situation felt wrong, from the roughnecks claiming a relationship with her, to the sudden fire alarm and evacuation.
Damn it, he would not take chances with her.
He listened to the voice mail on the room phone first.
“Listen up, Cherry. You need to get in touch. I mean it. No more fucking around.”
Angry tension invaded every muscle in Denver’s body. When the caller, who he thought might be Carver, left a number, Denver held the phone between his shoulder and jaw and scrawled it down on a notepad. He tucked the paper into his wallet.
“Tonight, Cherry. You’ve caused enough trouble. Don’t make me chase you down.” And with that, the call ended.
He needed to know what the hell was going on. Now, before anything else happened. To be on the safe side, he glanced at her cell and saw that the missed call was from her roommate, Rissy. There was also a text that said only, Rissy was here. Typical MO for Merissa Colter. Under other circumstances, Denver might’ve smiled.
Right now he was as far from a smile as a man could get.
When he dropped the cell phone and charger into Cherry’s purse, he saw her car keys. He fished them out and stuffed them into his front pocket. He’d just finished gathering up the meds and putting them in her purse when the bathroom door opened.
Cherry more or less crept out, now in the jeans, pale with fatigue, exhaustion showing in every line of her body.
He grabbed up the bags and put an arm around her. “Come on, honey, we need to go.” He didn’t think there was a real fire, but he wouldn’t take any chances.
“My shoes.”
“Damn. Sorry, but I already packed them. I’ll find them for you in the car.” He got her out the door and then had to veer her away from the elevator. “Not with a fire alarm going off.”
“Oh, right.”
He took in her red eyes, her defeated posture, and shook his head as he transferred the bags and her purse into one fist. “Sorry.”
“Wha—” The word ended on a gasp when he dipped, caught her around the hips, and hoisted her up and over his shoulder. “Denver!”
“We’re on the sixth floor, girl. You can barely go six steps.”
To his surprise, she didn’t fight him. She just clutched at his shirt and said, “Don’t drop me!”
“Never.”
He tried not to jostle her as he went down several flights of stairs. On the second floor, they ran into other people so he lowered her back to her feet to keep from embarrassing her, but put an arm around her waist to help support her. Near her ear, he asked, “Okay?”
With the strain obvious on her face, she nodded. When they finally reached the lobby, guests congested the front entrance, so Denver detoured with her down a short hall and out a side door.
The storms had moved out even before his jog, leaving the air fresh and clean. A blinding sun shone in a cloudless blue sky.
“Come on. You’re parked this way, right?”
“Yes.” She stumbled, coughed, and righted herself.
Worry stopped him. “Need me to carry you again?”
She shook her head, firm. “No.”
“That’d be pride talking.”
Mouth pinched, she trudged on.
Rocks and weeds littered the walkway. “Watch your step then.” They were almost to the car when he spotted her supposed “brothers” in front of the bar across the street—in close conversation with Leese Phelps, the same idiot who’d hit on her yesterday.
The reservations were adding up.
And so were the men.
They all kept their eyes trained on the front of the hotel, probably hoping to hijack Cherry when she emerged. But why?
Had they pulled the fire alarm? It seemed possible and damn it, he didn’t like it, any of it.
“Oh.” Little by little the sleepy daze cleared from her eyes.
Odds were the cough medicine had wiped her out as much as illness.
She started to leave the bed so he went to help her.
“I need the restroom.”
“Okay, but we have to hurry.” A voice came over an intercom of sorts in the room, directing guests to follow the guidelines on the backs of their entry doors. He led her to the bathroom, put the jeans and panties on the vanity, and stepped back. “Where’s your phone?”
“Nightstand,” she said, and shoved the door closed.
He saw she’d missed a call on her cell and on the room phone. Everything about this situation felt wrong, from the roughnecks claiming a relationship with her, to the sudden fire alarm and evacuation.
Damn it, he would not take chances with her.
He listened to the voice mail on the room phone first.
“Listen up, Cherry. You need to get in touch. I mean it. No more fucking around.”
Angry tension invaded every muscle in Denver’s body. When the caller, who he thought might be Carver, left a number, Denver held the phone between his shoulder and jaw and scrawled it down on a notepad. He tucked the paper into his wallet.
“Tonight, Cherry. You’ve caused enough trouble. Don’t make me chase you down.” And with that, the call ended.
He needed to know what the hell was going on. Now, before anything else happened. To be on the safe side, he glanced at her cell and saw that the missed call was from her roommate, Rissy. There was also a text that said only, Rissy was here. Typical MO for Merissa Colter. Under other circumstances, Denver might’ve smiled.
Right now he was as far from a smile as a man could get.
When he dropped the cell phone and charger into Cherry’s purse, he saw her car keys. He fished them out and stuffed them into his front pocket. He’d just finished gathering up the meds and putting them in her purse when the bathroom door opened.
Cherry more or less crept out, now in the jeans, pale with fatigue, exhaustion showing in every line of her body.
He grabbed up the bags and put an arm around her. “Come on, honey, we need to go.” He didn’t think there was a real fire, but he wouldn’t take any chances.
“My shoes.”
“Damn. Sorry, but I already packed them. I’ll find them for you in the car.” He got her out the door and then had to veer her away from the elevator. “Not with a fire alarm going off.”
“Oh, right.”
He took in her red eyes, her defeated posture, and shook his head as he transferred the bags and her purse into one fist. “Sorry.”
“Wha—” The word ended on a gasp when he dipped, caught her around the hips, and hoisted her up and over his shoulder. “Denver!”
“We’re on the sixth floor, girl. You can barely go six steps.”
To his surprise, she didn’t fight him. She just clutched at his shirt and said, “Don’t drop me!”
“Never.”
He tried not to jostle her as he went down several flights of stairs. On the second floor, they ran into other people so he lowered her back to her feet to keep from embarrassing her, but put an arm around her waist to help support her. Near her ear, he asked, “Okay?”
With the strain obvious on her face, she nodded. When they finally reached the lobby, guests congested the front entrance, so Denver detoured with her down a short hall and out a side door.
The storms had moved out even before his jog, leaving the air fresh and clean. A blinding sun shone in a cloudless blue sky.
“Come on. You’re parked this way, right?”
“Yes.” She stumbled, coughed, and righted herself.
Worry stopped him. “Need me to carry you again?”
She shook her head, firm. “No.”
“That’d be pride talking.”
Mouth pinched, she trudged on.
Rocks and weeds littered the walkway. “Watch your step then.” They were almost to the car when he spotted her supposed “brothers” in front of the bar across the street—in close conversation with Leese Phelps, the same idiot who’d hit on her yesterday.
The reservations were adding up.
And so were the men.
They all kept their eyes trained on the front of the hotel, probably hoping to hijack Cherry when she emerged. But why?
Had they pulled the fire alarm? It seemed possible and damn it, he didn’t like it, any of it.
