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19
NIALL
It’s up to me to do the rest. I waffle between whether I’ll have better luck with clothes or a room inmycondition and decide to go with clothes. The saleslady in the small shop next to the hotel looks thoroughly alarmed at my appearance. I give her the most charming smile I can muster, trying to ease her mind.
“Got into a bit of an accident on the way here,” I tell her, careful to make sure my clothes don’t shift in a way that would show the gun. “I just need some fresh clothes for my wife and me.”
It feels odd, saying the word out loud, calling Isabella my wife. I’d nearly saidgirlfriend, though that’s not true either, but I thought it might make me seem a bit more trustworthy to be the kind of man who would go shopping for his wife. And it seems to work because the girl’s face softens slightly, a hint of sympathy there instead of the suspicion I saw before.
“What’s your wife’s sizes?” she asks quickly. “I’ll see what I can help you find for her.”
It’s clear she’s still eager to get me out as quickly as possible—someone who looks like I do right now can’t be good for business, but she helps me find something for Isabella—a long black cotton skirt split up one side and a tie-front loose blouse with pretty embroidery on it. I manage to find a pair of jeans, some boots, and a black linen button-down that will serve me well enough—at least make me look beat up but presentable, instead of a righteous mess.
“Mind if I use your changing room?” I ask her once it’s all paid for, and she nods.
“Go ahead.” She smiles at me, even more at ease now that the things are paid for, and I let out a breath of relief.One task down.
I still need a shower, and it feels wrong to put on the new clean clothes over my dirty and bloodied body, but I won’t have to have them on for long before I have a chance to clean up. I toss the old clothes Javier gave me in a trash can outside, hanging on to the bag with Isabella’s clothes, and head over to the hotel.
“I just need a room for the night,” I tell the manager at the desk, who looks at me with a healthy measure more suspicion than the saleslady at the clothing store did.
“We don’t want any trouble.” The man behind the desk, a tall thin young man who doesn’t look much older than Isabella, frowns intensely. I can see the anxiety on his face, masked by the suspicion, and I give him the same easy smile I tried to charm the girl next door with.
“No trouble here,” I assure him. “Just had a little accident on the road, is all. Dropped my bike. It made it out in a lot better condition than I did, as did my wife. She’s a little bumped and bruised, though, and we both need a place to clean up and get a decent night’s rest.” I reach into my wallet, sliding several bills across the desk discreetly. “If we can just pay the rest for the room without any paperwork or record we were here, we’ll be on our way first thing in the morning.”
“You said no trouble.” The man frowns deeper than I would have thought possible, especially on such a young face. “That sounds like trouble.”
“None worth speaking about,” I tell him quickly. “Just a father not too happy his daughter and I are in love. But like I said, just a place for the night, and we’ll be gone before you know it.” Another bill across the desk, and his face slackens a little.
“Well, I suppose we have at least one vacancy.” He glances down. “Hm.Here we go. Just a double bed and a shower, but you say that’s all you need?”
“That’ll be fine.” I hand over the price for the room, that same easy smile still on my face. “My wife’s down at the restaurant getting us something to eat, I’m just going to pick her up, and then we’ll be back here in no time. Thank you very much,” I add as he hands me the key.
The man gives me a nod as he pockets the difference of the cash I handed him, and I feel another wave of relief.Fresh clothes and a room secured.The night is far from over, but at least the basics have been handled.
Isabella is waiting for me with a bag of takeout when I get back to her, and we walk back to the hotel slower than I would have liked. We’re both stiff from bruises and injuries and a rough day’s ride on the bike, but Isabella doesn’t breathe a word of complaint.
“It’s nicer than I expected,” she says with a small smile as we walk into the hotel.
“That’s what I thought.” The hotel isn’t big, but it’s clean, with mosaic tiled floors in the lobby, plants that look as if they’re desperately trying to remain green in the middle of a desert, and a small bar off to one side. We go up the stairs instead, straight to our room, and I let out a long breath as I lock the door behind us.
“I kept us off the records,” I tell her as she sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. “We should be far enough out not to worry for the night anyway—I expect Diego will think I took you back to your father. But it’s better to be safe.” I glance at the food as she opens up the container, waffling. “I don’t know whether to eat first or shower.”
“Eat,” Isabella says firmly, holding out something to me. “Beef empanada. You’re going to fall down if you don’t eat soon, just like you said—we both will.”
I sink down in the chair next to the window, one of the few pieces of furniture in the sparse room. It’s just a clean-swept hardwood floor with a faded rug, the aforementioned double bed with bedding that looks clean but well-used, a low chest of drawers, and an armchair that looks a bit weathered. It feels like heaven to sit down, though, and when I take a bite of the empanada, I nearly groan aloud with pleasure.
“I forgot how fucking long it’s been since I ate,” I mutter as I scarf another bite. It’s hard not to nearly swallow the thing whole; my stomach is suddenly a yawning pit after the taste of food, and I glance up to see Isabella nibbling at hers. “Are you really not hungry?”
“Anxiety, I guess.” She shrugs, wincing at the motion. “And nausea. You know, they call it morning sickness, but it seems to be more of an off-and-on, all-day thing. I thought it was just on account of how much stress I was under, but I guess—”
Her voice is tentative as she speaks, and I know why. It’s the first time she’s mentioned the reality of the baby out loud herself. Until now, it was just the chaos of the doctor saying it and Diego’s efforts to accomplish a haphazard abortion.
Isabella takes another tentative bite of her food and then sets it down, her lips pressed tightly together. “Thank you,” she says softly, her eyes slowly raising to meet mine. When they do, I see that they’re full of tears. “You didn’t have to come after me. I didn’t think you would. I didn’t—I didn’t deserve that rescue. Not after what I did—”
“If I’d known you were pregnant, it wouldn’t have taken your father making a deal with me to go after you to set it in motion,” I tell her honestly. “Which, Isabella—that’s another lie. Another thing you tricked me into doing. You said you were on birth control, but there’s no way the supposedly virgin daughter of Ricardo Santiago had access to birth control of any kind.”
Isabella bites her lip hard, and I see her wince as her teeth press against the bruised and split flesh. “I did lie,” she says softly. “It’s not enough to say I’m sorry. I know that. It can’t ever be enough—but I am. I swear to God and all the saints, Niall, I’m so, so horribly sorry.”
