Chapter 7
Briel stared out the window, hugging herself. The sun, just a warm pat of melting butter on the horizon, held her entranced. The rain had finally stopped. After a night hidden away at another of her father’s “safe locations” in a hotel next door to an Irish pub, Briel was starting to feel better about things. There’d been no sign of the man who’d come to the door. She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted, and she sure as hell hadn’t stuck around to find out either. She and Fena had hightailed it out the window and then melted into the throngs of partygoers, mostly students, who’d filled the busy streets last night. Thank God for Saturdays.
Turning, she eyed where Fena slept on the giant four poster bed. The room was immaculate, just as the other had been. The General had spared no expense, per usual. Just like the other, this one had a pantry crammed full of canned goods, but instead of MRE’s, Briel was delighted to find a freezer full of food. It was a nice change of pace and she’d made her and Fena a fabulous steak dinner to make up for the mad dash from their last hideaway. They’d had to leave their coats last night, and by the time they’d gotten to the new hotel, they’d both been soaked. She’d been worried that Fena would get sick, but they shared a steaming bath before dinner and later, curled up in front of the fireplace, they’d each downed two mugs of hot chocolate from packets she’d found in the kitchenette. Fena had fallen asleep easily, cuddled up under the thick burgundy comforter on the king-sized bed. Briel hadn’t had any such luck. Nope, she’d paced and worried all night long, checking and then re-checking the locks on the door and windows. She was worried now because this suite was on the top floor and there’d be no window escape if Creepy McCreeperton found them.
Her thoughts strayed back to the man. He’d been…scary. Scary and sexy, if that made any sense. She hadn’t been fooled by the expensive looking suit he’d worn. The man was as lethal as any soldier her father commanded, and that fact couldn’t be disguised with fine clothes. His face had been scarred like he was some battle-hardened warrior, and the thought of how he’d earned the wounds forced a shiver through her as she remembered how close he’d gotten to Fena. If he hadn’t had an attack, or whatever in the hell it had been, they’d never have gotten away.
She thought back to the way he’d dropped to his knees in clear agony. The whole time he’d kept his eyes locked on hers. Strange eyes. When she’d first looked at him, his eyes had been a startling gray. No, not gray. They were bright silver. Weird enough, but when he went down his pupils had dilated so fully that his blown-out eyes looked black with just a ring of silver on the outside.
He’d watched her the whole time, even through his sudden attack. The feral possessiveness in his eyes had terrified her, almost as much as the fact that it had unleashed something molten low in her belly. Even now, a strange sensation swirled there.
A loud knock at the door made Briel startle hard. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and they hadn’t ordered room service, they hadn’t needed to.
Quickly, she rushed to wake Fena and hide her. They’d practiced this same thing dozens of times throughout the day. She’d been so terrified at the condo when she’d come out of the bathroom to find Fena standing with the front door wide open and that man staring down at her. Fena knew now to be quiet, to not question what was happening and just stay tucked away in a little ball like she was supposed to.
Silently, Fena slipped as far under the bed as she could go, and when the knock sounded again, Briel smoothed the comforter back into place and rushed to the door. Turning, she ensured Fena was out of sight before she tiptoed and peered out the peephole. Heart in her throat, she held her breath so whoever it was wouldn’t hear her.
It wasn’t him! Thank God! It was a woman, a maid. She was wearing a uniform and paced back and forth as if bored with a stack of towels on her upraised palm. It made sense. The concierge had seen them come in and had commented on their drenched state. Briel had mumbled that they were fine and rushed to the elevator, but he must have known they’d need fresh towels. They did. Between drying off and their bath, they’d gone through all the towels in the suite. Still, Briel eyed the woman a few minutes longer just to be safe.
Muttering something, the woman plastered on a fake smile and faced the door to knock again.
She was pretty, with long dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. There was one white strip of hair from just above her right eye that was a stark contrast to the rest of her dark locks.
Satisfied she wasn’t here to do harm, Briel inched the door open and searched the hall before smiling. “Those towels for us?”
The woman grinned. “Yep. Kristoff…the concierge said you might need them.”
Briel opened the door wider and stepped out. “Yes. We do.” She was reaching for the towels when the maid dropped them and caught her wrist, holding it tight.
Briel’s eyes snapped up and rounded as she stared at the woman, but movement down the hall drew her attention.
It was him!