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What was it he was feeling? It felt like . . . guilt. Regret.
Shit. He didn’t have emotions like this.
He was bad for her. Her mental health. Her physical health.
Just like she was bad for his focus.
Picking her up, he set her down in the bed before climbing off and straightening his clothes.
He needed to get his perspective back.
“See this intercom here?” He pointed at the wall and she nodded. “Press the button and Bernard will bring you whatever you want. If you let him know your sizes, he’ll have some clothes for you tomorrow.”
“But it’s nearly midnight.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’ll make it happen. Do you need something to eat?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He frowned. She didn’t sound fine. But he needed to leave before he started drowning in those green eyes of hers.
He wasn’t a magician, but perhaps she was.
“Lie down.”
She huffed out a breath, but moved under the covers, lying stiffly.
“Do you need something to help you sleep?”
Just leave her.
“No.”
He stared down at her. “Warm milk?”
“I’m fine. I mean, I would like to go home.”
“That isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?” she asked. She looked so small. So sweet.
“It’s safer for you here. One of Vince’s men might figure out your involvement in his disappearance.”
“How would they figure that out?”
“Maybe he told them what he was going to do to you.”
“Oh, God. Do you think he did?” Fear filled her face and he felt guilty. He squashed that feeling ruthlessly.
“I don’t know. Until I do, you’ll stay here. Good night.”
“Good night,” she whispered.
He turned away, but he couldn’t make himself leave. Spinning back, he ignored her surprised look as he tucked the covers around her. Nice and tight. The way his mama used to.
“Close your eyes.”
She huffed out a sigh, but he decided not to scold her sassiness. She was tired and overwrought, so he could forgive her.
This once.
“Don’t you have to go?” she whispered, staring up at him sleepily.
“Do you wish me to leave?”
“No. But my wishes rarely come into anything . . .” she trailed off with a yawn. “Good night.”
He waited until he thought she was asleep to lean down and place a kiss on her forehead.
“Buenas noches y dulces sueños.”
13
Unfortunately, she didn’t have sweet dreams.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Vince’s butt-ugly face. With every vision, he seemed to get uglier. She shuddered in memory.
Maybe she needed another bath.
No. Nope.
You’re stronger than this.
Was she? She desperately wished she had her phone. What she needed right now was to hear her friends’ voices. Not that she could tell them what happened.
Nope. Sampson and Jenner would likely be on the next flight out here to drag her back to their house.
Sometimes, she wished they would.
God, she missed Snuggly. The blanket had been with her since she was a baby. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t sleep without it. Or Roger.
Roger had been given to her by her dad. Or at least that’s what Mama had told her.
When she and Mama had escaped the Camp, they’d taken some clothes, Roger, and Snuggly. Not that they’d really owned anything else. When you entered the cult, you were meant to surrender all your worldly possessions to the Deity. And she knew if the Deity had discovered Snuggly or Roger, he would have gotten rid of them.
She rolled back and forth. This bed was so big. And comfortable. But she wasn’t used to being comfortable. Even the sheets were luxurious.
It all just felt so wrong.
Finally, she gave up sleeping with a huff. Getting up, she looked around for something to do. There was a television on the wall, but she’d never been a person who could sit and watch TV.
It might be the time to try, though.
It wasn’t like there was anything else to do.
Ooh, a fort!
That might help her settle.
Even if it didn’t help her sleep, she’d feel more at ease in a fort than the giant bed. Even in her apartment, she only had a single bed. She liked to feel secure.
Dragging the mattress down, she put it on the floor at the end of the bed. Then she tugged the two armchairs over to form the other corners of the fort. She draped the bed cover over the bed posts and armchairs.
It wasn’t perfect, it sagged on a couple of sides and she needed more pillows. But as she climbed in, she felt a bit more at ease.
Having Snuggly and Roger would have been better.
So would being wrapped up in Alejandro’s arms.
No. Nope.
Danger. Danger.
She couldn’t be attracted to him. He was the target. The bad guy.
But he rescued me.
Okay . . . so she could be attracted to him. She could be grateful to him.
What she could not do was act on those feelings.
After putting the television onto a music channel for some noise to keep her company, she lay down to count sheep.
