Page 95 of The Immortal’s Mark

“Damnit.” I curse.

I slept the night away. I missed the first meeting with the task force.

I grab a fresh set of clothes and a bag of toiletries, then rush out of the room. I want to find someone to figure out what I missed, but I am a mess. I can smell myself. I need to clean up first.

I step into the hall, bracing myself to run into someone, but it’s empty. I find a bathroom and shower, brush my teeth, and change in record time.

My hair soaks my new t-shirt as I rip open the bathroom door and let out a scream.

I place a hand over my racing heart. “What the hell, Gregory? You scared me.”

“Sorry.” My bodyguard leans against the wall in front of me, wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray long sleeve. “I went to your room to wake you, but you weren’t there.”

“I showered.”

“I can see that.” He smiles. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

He jerks his head. “There’s food in the kitchen. I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good.” I brush past him; his spicy cologne follows me as I head downstairs.

I follow the sound of cabinets opening and closing, sidestepping end tables littered with fragile seashells and oceanic figurines, and round the corner.

Paige stands in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips, glaring at the counter in front of her.

I clear my throat. “Everything alright?”

Paige spins around to face me.

“Oh.” She lets loose a breath. “It’s you.”

“Yup. It’s me.” I step into the kitchen. I ask again, “Are you alright?”

Paige sighs. “No. I can’t find coffee.”

“Huh.” That doesn’t make sense. Alex loves coffee. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

“Well, I can’t find it,” she says mournfully.

“Did you check the pantry?” I move towards one of the two closed doors positioned in the wall opposite the kitchen.

Opening the first, I find a laundry room. Closing it, I proceed to cross the space and open the second door.

I grin as I swing the door wider and turn to show Paige the shelf with no less than four bags of coffee roasts. “Ta-da!”

“God, I’m an idiot. I didn’t even think about looking for a pantry!” Paige hurries to my side and desperately grabs the first bag she can reach.

She takes it to the counter with the coffee maker and pours it into the coffee filter. “Want some?”

I decide not to question her friendly behavior.

“Sure.” I close the pantry door, lean against it, and watch her make the coffee.

“How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” I frown at the reminder of missing the meeting with our contact, but I refrain from asking Paige about it. I’ll get my information from Gregory.