“Don’t think about it.” He must’ve guessed the direction of her thoughts, because he hoisted her in his arms and took the stairs two at a time, still talking. “One thing I’ve learned is when you fall in a pile of shit, dig up, not down. Don’t think about what’s past.”
“Honestly?” This close, she could see the stubble on his cheeks and the tension in his jaw. “That’s not helpful. Even my VA therapist wouldn’t give you a job.” Contradictorily, of course, her spirits lifted. Perhaps being carried as if she weighed nothing was more efficacious than antidepressants.
“I don’t have any better material to offer.” Setting her on her feet next to door 318, he inserted the key card. “Except sex.”
“Why, yes, I think that would qualify as better.” The green blinking light, the click of the door, his hand on the small of her back—all of it gave her an almost dizzying sense of déjà vu.
Instead of leaving as he had in Rome, Wulf came in and searched the bathroom, behind the curtains and under the bed. There was no closet, or she knew he would have searched it too.
The room could’ve been a surgical suite, its walls were so white and the furniture so clean. “Are you sure this is a pay-by-the-hour place?” Even the oversized black-and-white photos resembled high-end waiting room decor, except for their subject matter: extremely large, extremely naked breasts and buttocks. “Maybe Danes really like modern art.”
Wulf snorted. “Cruz is never mistaken about these things. Stay here while I recon the exits. I’ll be back in four minutes.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Theresa raised her knee and shook her C-Leg to ease the pressure on her stump while she waited. Wulf had ordered her to stay in the room, but it would only take a second to check whether one of the hall vending machines sold baby powder for her sweaty socket liner. The silicone had become uncomfortably sticky from her damp stump sock.
Dismissing the snacks and ice, she fixated on the bright pink Tabooboo machine. Line-drawn characters illustrated the display of plain brown boxes. They reminded her of Men Working signs, except these had naked boobs. The box that showed dramatically misapplied jumper cables even had a helpful English labeclass="underline" Nipple Clamps.
Oooo-kay. If she didn’t read the rest, she’d burst. Given the picture of a large-breasted figure holding a thick black stick, Pocket Rocket was obvious, but did the box labeled Secret Lippy Vibrator contain Halloween candy lips with batteries, or something entirely different?
Fuzzy handcuffs were seventy-five kroner. She rubbed her fingers over the bills in her pocket.
By the time Wulf came through the door, she’d returned to leaning on the wall in the room, but the two boxes tucked in her coat gave her a secret reason to smile.
“One flight up to the roof, or three down to an alley.” He drew her closer, as if to confirm she was still in one piece. “Cruz is immediately below in 218, and after they pick up the weapons and gear, Deavers and the Big Kahuna will take turns next to the exit stairs. Got that?”
While this safety brief appeared to be Wulf’s way of managing risk and its associated messy emotions, she wanted the comfort of his arms. “Got it,” she muttered as she slipped her hands inside his jacket. Heat from his dash up and down the stairs radiated from his body.
“Roof door isn’t blocked, but with the snow and the roof pitch it’s too slippery. Going up is our last resort.” Disengaging from her hug, he turned to the door locks and chain. “The alley leads to well-lit streets in either direction.”
Her hand hovered where his coat seams stretched across his shoulders, which weren’t as squared as usual. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shuddered and planted his fists on the door. “I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something, and my gut’s telling me I’ve brought you into more danger.”
“You didn’t bring me. I brought myself.” She wasn’t a super-duper Special Forces hulk, and half the weapons talk in the taxi had been one step away from gibberish to her, but if he didn’t recognize that she had a pony in this race too, if he didn’t understand how much she wanted to destroy the people who’d killed her stepbrother and cousin, then he could hang his ass out a window, frostbite or no. “Beating Unferth matters to me as much as it does to you.”
“That’s why I let you come.”
“Let me?” The ceiling’s automatic fire sprinklers showered neither patience nor understanding on her head, no matter how hard she stared up asking for both. “Who replaced my annoying locavore food-dork with a Neanderthal?” Instead of waiting for him to answer with a reply that would further tick her off, she left him in the entry.
“Sorry,” he said, following her to the middle of the room. “Carl told me you’re impossible to stop.”
“In which of your foreign languages does that count as an apology?” Hands on hips, she watched him approach.
“I didn’t tell you how much you helped me today. I doubt Dr. Haukssen would’ve opened up without you, so thank you.”
The sweet words and rueful grin melted her, and his embrace was the mea culpa she needed. “Your inner epicure was doing fine,” she told his collar.
“That was all for you, you know. I wanted to make you laugh.”
“I gathered.” Inhaling against his neck, she caught the scent of snow, if that had a smell, and a hint of his evergreen soap and the hot essence of him.
He ran his hands down her sides, pulling her so close that his coat partially enfolded her and he crushed the stiff corner of one of her purchases into her thigh. “What’s that?”
“Umm.” Her face started to heat to match his body. Buying the Tabooboo items had been a hell of a lot easier than sharing them would be. “Something I found in the hall.”
The man in her arms alerted like a drug-sniffing dog.
“Relax.” Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she stretched to kiss his ear. “It’s nothing to worry about.” With her voice pitched low, she hoped he’d understand without her having to spell it out. “Something distinctly not to worry about.”
The muscles behind his jaw felt as taut as cables under her palms. He didn’t know what she meant, so she tugged him to the king-size bed. The less said, the better. “The other guys are on watch, right?” When he nodded, she tossed both boxes onto the crisp white blanket.
He crouched, as if ready to leap and disarm them, until he interpreted their logos. “What—” he grabbed one of her purchases and wiggled it, “—is a Finger Bunny?”
As she circled behind a chair, she giggled at the absurdity of Wulf holding the ridiculous package and knew she’d be totally red-faced. If he opened it, she’d probably code out over the contents, but anticipation bubbled in her chest anyway.
“You’ve been busy.” He shrugged his jacket onto the floor and stalked closer. “Isn’t it time to take off your coat?”
The simple task of shaking her arms from the sleeves and hanging her coat on the back of the chair while he watched through half-lowered eyelids felt like stripping, despite the fact that she still wore wide-leg pants and a long sweater.
“You bought these—” he plucked the other box, the fuzzy handcuffs, off the bed, “—in the hall too?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “This has just become a five-star hotel. No, ten.”