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He had two sandwiches in the pan coming along nicely when Ian showed up. He and Vivi greeted each other with light kisses and knowing smiles, and Rory pretended not to notice.
After a moment, Ian turned to him, still holding Vivi’s hand. “I’m wheels up in two hours, heading to Chicago to meet Ryker and Mia before we’re on to Germany. I need your advice.”
“Leave your personal devices here and take a sterile phone only. When you return, remove the battery and bring it to me. At the hotel, obtain a room on a middle floor, between the second and sixth, and be sure you have a doorstop with you. Know all the exits, and keep your doors locked at all times. The rest your mentors will walk you through before you leave the States.”
Ian nodded, kissed his frowning wife, and patted Rory’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
Once he was gone, Vivi asked, “How did you know that’s what he was talking about?”
“He had the look.”
“What look?”
“Men get it when they’re focused on the mission ahead of them.”
“Women, too?”
“Some.”
Rory held up a hand to stave off her impending interrogation. “Sandwiches are ready.” He slid one onto each plate. “Can you bring me a tray and two waters?”
“He’ll be safe, right?”
The guarded fear in her eyes was real. After what they’d been through recently, Rory couldn’t blame her. “The tadpole is in good hands. It’s only a training exercise.”
“Right.” She gathered what he needed and walked with him to the elevator. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll clean up.”
In his head, he was already scripting like she’d suggested. She really was a good psychologist. “He’s a good man and has natural instincts. You can’t teach that. He’s going to make a hell of a spy.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him as the elevator doors began to close. “Be charming,” she called.
Oh, he would be. He was going to charm the hell out of Amelia.
SEVEN
The clock was ticking down to the golden hour on the wall clock,tick tick tick. Amelia’s pulse skipped along with it.
This room had to be in demand—it was one of the few that had an en suite bath. She checked her appearance in the tiny bathroom mirror and found it appalling.
When she’d woken from her nap thirty minutes ago, she was sweating, her head throbbed, and she’d stumbled to the toilet just in time to vomit there rather than the floor.
Small miracles.
Once she’d stopped seeing three vanities, she’d splashed water on her face, then caught a whiff of body odor with a side of hospital bedeau de awful. Time for a shower. Some good Samaritan had placed bottles of shampoo and body wash on the edge of the tub.
Knowing she was still recovering from a concussion, she’d debated if doing anything alone was wise, especially getting in and out of the stall. Sitting on the toilet seat, she’d considered who to call. Tricky question, that.
Stomach rumbling at its emptiness, she’d ignored the crutches and cruised the pieces of furniture to the small kitchenette. There, she’d gulped some water, ate the saltine crackers her Samaritan had left her, and felt…not quite so bad.
In fact, she’d felt almost normal. Scratch that. Not normal, but better than she had earlier. While she’d found it impossible to sleep in the hospital with all the noise on the floor, and the constant coming and going of nurses and aides to check on her, the nap must have done her good.
The sweating had abated and her stomach had finally settled. She’d finished another glass of water, noticed her vision no longer made her feel drunk, and tested walking around more, careful to keep weight off her foot.
The good thing was, she hadn’t been dizzy, lightheaded, or nauseous. She’d sorted through a pile of clothes left on a chair near the door and grimaced at the bland, generic items. They were clean, at least, and smelled of detergent, rather than sick people.
The doctor had ordered her to keep the boot on and only take sink baths. Finagling that seemed harder than stepping into the shower, however. She’d found an unused plastic bag for the waste can and enclosed her leg inside that, boot and all, and secured a knot at the top.
There were bars on the shower walls that helped her stay steady. The heat had relaxed her tight shoulders and the body wash smelled like lemon and eucalyptus. She took her time, allowing the water to sluice over her sore muscles, keeping the back of her head and neck out of the stream.
