I pretend I don’t enjoy the feeling of having her in my arms.
I pretend I don’t like it, and I sure as hell ignore the way it makes me feel.
I’m good at that, turning off my emotions. I can go cold as ice, make myself feel nothing.
It’s the best way to be.
SIX
SHE sleeps like a baby the whole flight, until we get told by the flight attendant that she has to return to her seat for landing. She doesn’t look at me after she wakes, probably shy, or embarrassed, I don’t know which. Maybe she’s ashamed to have been so close to a biker without a gun aimed at him.
Or maybe it’s me with the issue.
I keep an eye on her as the flight lands. I see her dig her nails into her palm, and I want to help, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the offer right now. If she wants my help, I wish she’d ask, but I know she won’t. Reality has hit, which means she must be feeling much better than before, when she was so out of it that she didn’t care whose arms she was in. Feeling helpless, I watch as she tries to keep herself calm. When we land, I see the relief play out on her face, and I feel it too. Since neither of us has any carry-on bags, we exit the plane quickly. We walk side by side in silence, and it’s only when we’re standing at baggage claim that she speaks.
“Thank you, for what you did back there,” she says, exhaling roughly. “You didn’t have to. And to be honest, no one has taken care of me like that before, so yeah . . . thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I say. She moves to grab one of the bags, so I lean forward and carry it before she can.
“Thanks.”
I simply nod my head, grab my bag when it comes around, and then walk through the exit with her to hail a cab. I open the cab door for her, then put our suitcases in the trunk, wondering when exactly I became gentleman of the year. She gets in the back, while I get in the passenger seat to give me a little space to clear my head. The driver is chatty as fuck, which is both annoying and welcome at the same time.
“Business or pleasure?” he asks after I tell him the name of the hotel we’ll be staying at.
“Definitely business,” Jo says from the back, sounding tired but still managing to muster a dry tone.
Jo? Since when is Johanna, Detective Chase, just Jo? Great, now I’ve given her a fuckin’ nickname.
The cabdriver and I discuss everything from weather to politics before we reach the hotel. When we get there, I pull out my wallet just as Jo shoves a fifty-dollar bill in the middle of the driver and me, her outstretched hand waiting for someone to take it. With a shake of my head, I tell the driver to ignore her, which he does with an amused smirk.
“Seriously?” she says, sounding annoyed. “Ranger, take it, don’t be ridiculous.”
I pay the driver and tip him, ignoring her money, and then get out to unload our suitcases. Taking one in each hand, I walk toward reception, but then stop and wait for her, realizing that I’m being a little rude.
“I can carry my own suitcase,” she grumbles, trying to take it from my hand.
I sigh, glancing down at her face. “It will go easier and quicker if you just let me do what I have to do. Why don’t you go and check us in?”
“Did you print out the reservation?” she asks, going through her handbag as if looking for it.
“No,” I say, brow furrowing. “I assumed that you would.”
“Why, because I’m female, I’m meant to be the organized one?”
“Yes,” I say, wondering if Faye printed it out and put it somewhere for me. Sounds like something that she’d do; she usually thinks of everything.
Jo makes a sound of frustration and walks to the reception desk. I stare at her ass in those jeans as it jiggles with each angry stomp she takes. She can get as angry with me as she wants as long as I get to enjoy that view. She returns a few moments later and hands me my key.
“We’re right next door to each other,” she says, nodding toward the elevator.
“Okay.”
We get inside the elevator together and she presses the button for level five. I look down at my key, which reads ROOM 538. When the elevator stops, I carry the suitcases out and walk toward my room.
“I’m here,” she says when we pass the room before mine. She uses her key to open the door, and I carry her suitcase inside for her.
“So what’s the plan?” I ask, taking a look around her room. It is nice. Spacious. I know Faye chose the place, so I wouldn’t expect anything less, but we don’t really need nice rooms. We won’t be spending much time in the hotel.
“Get some food and some sleep, and we’ll start early tomorrow morning. How about six a.m.?” she suggests, sitting down on the bed. “I’ll catch a cab to the car-rental place, and then I have to stop by the police station.”
Great, just great.
“Well, while you do that, I’m going to go have a look around the area she was last spotted, speak to the locals, and see what I can find out,” I say, glancing around her room once more. “Anyway, good night.”
“Good night,” she says softly, leaning down to pull off her sneakers.
I back out of the room, dragging my suitcase behind me, and close her door. I’m about to call out for her to remember to lock it, but she’s a fuckin’ cop, and I don’t think she needs to be told. Instead, I head next door to my own room, place my suitcase in the corner, and then fall back onto my bed. I barely fit on it, but I manage. I really hope that coming here was the right decision—that we can find out where Elizabeth is. I close my eyes and dream about one of the last times that I saw her.