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“Yes,” she said. “You were. I’m fine, I think, but for the record, I have enough problems stumbling over the unseen stuff; I don’t need any additional trip hazards.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He pulled her into his arms. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and grimaced. “Can’t blame bad energy this time. I was returning from the bathroom. Didn’t see the bag.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He released her and glanced at the clock on the table beside the bed. He groaned when he saw the time. “It’s after one. I need to get dressed and get back to my own room.”
He was reaching for his trousers when he heard the familiar clank and rattle of a metal chain. He froze.
Pallas cleared her throat. “Something you want to mention about your taste in sex toys?”
He spun around. She was holding the ankle manacle of the chain that had fallen out of the duffel.
“I can explain,” he said. He could feel himself flushing from head to toe. “I told you I take some precautions because of the sleepwalking.”
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m very open-minded about these things.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“With you, not at you,” she said.
He shook his head. “Nope. You’re laughing at me.”
“Maybe a little. But I must admit the thought of you chained to a bed does present a very interesting visual.”
“Is that right?”
“Why don’t you spend the rest of the night here in my room and we’ll try out some possibilities?”
He tossed the trousers over the back of the armchair and crossed the room to take her into his arms.
“What did you have in mind?” he said.
“You’re the one who writes fiction. I’m sure you can come up with something creative.”
He reached out and took the manacle from her. “Now that you mention it, I think I’m over my case of writer’s block.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The text fromTheo came in just as Pallas was preparing to make herself another cup of coffee. Ambrose had slipped out of the hotel nearly an hour ago, headed for the Institute. She had been drinking coffee, pacing the room, and expecting bad news along the lines of I’ve-been-picked-up-for-burglary-please-come-to-the-jail-and-bail-me-out.
Oddly enough, the message from Theo was even more unnerving.We need to talk. Someone is asking questions about you. Meet me in the hotel lobby.
She didn’t hesitate. Grabbing her messenger bag, she headed for the door. There were two possibilities, she thought. Either Theo was trying to trick her into giving him a second chance to plead his case or else he really did have some information. Regardless, there was no risk in hearing what he had to say. There were few places more public than a hotel lobby.
Out in the hallway a woman in an immaculately tailored suit was waiting for the elevator. Her face was averted, her attention focused on the door. She glanced at her watch, her body language signaling tension. Late for a meeting, no doubt.
Pallas hesitated, trying to decide if it would be faster to take the stairs. The elevator bell chimed and the doors slid open. The business traveler stepped inside, reaching back to hold the door.
“Thanks,” Pallas said.
Decision made, she moved into the elevator. There was one other person inside, a man. He pressed the button for the garage. There was something vaguely familiar about him.
“I’m going to the lobby,” Pallas said.
When she stepped forward to press the lobby button he looked at her, his eyes stone-cold.
“No, you’re not,” he said.
