“I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice sounding strained to his ears.
She didn’t answer. She only swallowed and nodded.
Cleo shoved her feet into her sandals, then grabbed her bag and swung the strap over her shoulder. From the top of the television, she snatched Daniel’s car keys.
At the door she checked the peephole. All clear.
She stepped out and pulled in a sharp breath as Daniel materialized in front of her, fingers wrapping around her arm.
“I decided you might like to come with me,” he said. “You know. To help me pick them out. I thought there might be a particular style you were partial to.”
He’d never had any intention of leaving her by herself. He seemed to know her too well. Or was he just adept when it came to the criminal mind? And was that what she was? A criminal?
Yes, taking pay for services not rendered would put her in that category.
Refusing to back down, she looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t have any preference about style. Just make sure you get the right size. I imagine small would be a good choice.” Did condoms even come in sizes? She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. From the look on his face, she’d gotten her point across. People always said guys were hung up on size. What better way to get him back than an attack on his attributes?
“Small?” he said, quite obviously hoping he’d heard wrong.
She lifted her eyebrows, a silent but reluctant assent. ’Fraid so.
Worry and insecurity seeped into his eyes. She had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling. They both knew she’d held him in her hands, and there had been nothing small about him. She couldn’t believe how easily he was convinced otherwise.
“Does that bother you?” she asked, careful to keep her features neutral.
“No.” He shrugged. “No.”
He was almost as good at this as she was. It was as if they were standing in the hallway of the hotel, speaking their lines, playing parts.
“Don’t worry. I’ve heard size doesn’t really matter to women.”
His expression said, Yeah, right.
“In fact-” This was dangerous water. Did she want to go there? She’d told herself to forget about last night and here she was, throwing it in his face. But the fact that she could turn it around, that she could throw it back in his face, was oh so satisfying.
“Last night I really didn’t need…well, it at all.” She pretended to give the subject some deep thought. “In fact, I probably didn’t even need you.”
There, she thought, watching him with satisfaction. It’s erased. He’d been so smug, thinking he’d really taken her somewhere, thinking she’d been totally under his control, wanting him to go down on her anytime, anywhere. Let him think that she had never wanted him or needed him.
The insecurity in his face dissolved. She watched as a muscle twitched in his cheek. Keeping a grip on her arm, he stuck his card in the reader on the door behind her, waited for the green light, then opened the door, shoving her back inside.
At first she thought she’d gone too far, goaded him past his limit. Was he going to attack her? Force himself on her? Instead he shoved her away as if she sickened him. And that was what she’d been trying to do, wasn’t it? Sicken him? To make sure there wasn’t a replay of the previous night? She never wanted to find herself at his mercy again.
Sex with Jordan hadn’t been anything like that. It had never been that weak-in-the-knees, losing-control kind of thing. Together they had been more like two puppies snuggling in the sunlight. It hadn’t been dark. It hadn’t been mysterious. There had never been a need so great it overshadowed common sense.
Daniel Sinclair was like the very town he came from. He looked harmless on the surface, but underneath there was something going on, something she didn’t want any part of.
“Give me your bag.”
When she didn’t comply, he jerked it from her shoulder, opened it, unzipped the side pocket, and helped himself to her money, stuffing the roll into the front pocket of his Levi’s.
This could still work, Cleo tried to reassure herself. She would do what she’d planned to do at the beginning-stay in Egypt a while, make a satisfactory effort to try to find the key, then be on her way.
He shoved the bag back at her, saying, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He cast a quick glance around the room, looking for anything they may have left. “What am I thinking?” he said with a rough laugh. “You probably already picked up everything that wasn’t nailed down.”
He surprised her by swinging around and grabbing her, cupping her chin in his palm, forcing her to look directly at him, which she did with unflinching eyes.
“You think this is over,” he said. “But it’s not.”
About halfway to Egypt, Daniel slowed the car and pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate. Cleo, who’d been half dozing, came awake. Why were they stopping?
He got out, slammed the door, quickly rounded the car, and opened the passenger door. “Scoot over.” When she didn’t move, he gave her a light shove. “You drive.”
“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I don’t like to drive. Maybe I only drove yesterday because you seemed a little out of it.”
“For chrissake, don’t start this again. Just scoot over and drive.”
She would have put up more of a fight, but semis were blasting by, rocking the car, stirring up tornadoes of dirt and debris. She moved across to the other seat while he took her place on the passenger side. She adjusted the seat and mirror, waited for an opening, then pulled the patrol car onto the highway.
“Should I really be driving this?” she asked. “I’m not a police officer.” It was probably a little late to mention that her driver’s license had expired.
“Like you’re really concerned with breaking the law.”
“I just don’t know why you want me to drive.”
He was leaning with his elbow against the door, his hand to his forehead. He lifted his hand away and started using it for emphasis. “Because I have a fucking headache,” he shouted. “Because you’ve given me a fucking migraine! Does that answer your question?”
She shot him a quick glance. “Want a couple of aspirin?”
“What I want-” he was still talking with his hands, gesturing wildly “-is to get back to Egypt and dump you off at the police station. That’s what I want.” He adjusted his seat so he was reclining. “Don’t forget to take Sixty west,” he said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cross his arms over his chest. “We don’t want to end up in Arkansas.”
Cleo actually enjoyed being behind the wheel. She noticed she was passing a lot of people, and checked the speedometer. Eighty-five. Oops. She slowed to seventy-five, but a few minutes later the red needle crept up to eighty-five again.
Two hours later she hit the outskirts of Egypt where she pulled into The Palms, stopping in front of room number six. She put the car in park and cut the engine. Beside her Daniel stirred.
“What are we doing at the motel?” His voice was thick and groggy.
“I want to change clothes before going to the police station.”
He must have been too sleepy to argue. “Go ahead. I’ll swing by the house and check on Beau. Then I’ll be back to get you.”