“Okay, but what if, just hypothetically . . . what if it is important to Nico? And that’s why Sotiris guarded it so closely. To keep Nico from having it.”
“You think Sotiris may send his people after us for that.” He nodded at the rock.
“Maybe,” she admitted. “This is all new to me, and I could be blowing smoke out my ass, but—”
His hand reached between them to squeeze her butt cheek. “I keep a close eye on your ass. I’d have noticed that.”
“I’m serious, Dragan,” she insisted, even as she experienced a little zing of pleasure at what he’d said.
“So am I, sweet. And you’re right. You tell me we’re not far from this place where Nico might be living.”
She nodded. “Three or four hours, I think.”
“Then we should go, find out if it’s Nico, and give him this rock.”
“And if it’s not Nico that we find? What if I’m wrong about this Nicholas person?”
“Then we keep looking. But first steps first. Don’t fight the battle until the enemy is real.”
Good advice, she thought. But what if Sotiris had hired someone to kill them, and the enemy was already here, hiding in the shadows? She considered the trail they might have left for someone to follow. They hadn’t stayed in any one place more than a single night, which was good. But she’d had to use a credit card for tonight’s hotel check-in, and she’d used it for Dragan’s new clothes, too. It was an old card, in her grandmother’s name—a gift for her to use for college expenses other than the usual books and tuition. Her grandmother had been determined that Maeve not spend all of her college years with her nose in a book, or a computer. She hadn’t graduated that long ago, and her Gran had never asked for it back, so she’d kept the card, but hadn’t used it. Her name wasn’t directly associated with the account, but any investigator worth his salt would make the connection. Especially once the expenses started forming a trail to follow.
And there were those vampires. Dragan seemed convinced they had nothing to do with Sotiris. But what if . . . ?
“I’ve been thinking.”
He chuckled softly. “Aren’t you always?”
She gave a weak smile. “We’re checked in here through tonight, but I’m thinking we should leave today instead, maybe just after dark. If we do it without checking out, then anyone looking for us will think we’re still here at this hotel. It might give us a couple hours’ lead, get us to Pompano, and hopefully your Nico, before anyone catches up with us.”
He shrugged, causing sleek muscle to slide under her cheek. It felt so nice. Why couldn’t it be simple, too?
“This is your world—”
“Yours, too, now,” she reminded him.
“True enough. But for now, you’re the better judge of how to reach Nico safely. Will we drive straight there?”
“No, we’ll stop somewhere close and stay over. We don’t want to arrive at the house in the middle of the night. Better to approach in daytime, I think, even if he does turn out to be your Nico.”
Another delicious shrug. “Nico doesn’t sleep much, but I get your point. Some surprises are best met in daylight.”
She sighed. “Okay. We should shower and pack up. We can take everything down to the SUV, then go out for an early dinner and come back. Make it look like we’re staying.”
“Shower?” He sat up, then reached around and pulled her across his lap. “Together?”
Maeve felt a rush of happiness that he still wanted her after all the sex they’d had. Although she supposed most people wouldn’t consider what they’d done a lot. Still, it was one thing to have sex in the dark in bed, and something else entirely to stand in the bright light of a bathroom and get naked in the shower together. She was in good shape. She ran often, and did yoga or other strengthening exercises a couple times a week. But he was beautiful.
As if he’d read her mind, he stood, taking her with him as easily as if she weighed nothing. “Come on, sweet Mae, I want to watch the water run over your delicious body.” He didn’t wait for her response, just hustled her ahead of him into the bathroom, where he held onto her as he reached in to turn on the water, then wrapped her in both arms and rocked her from foot to foot, while they waited for the water to run hot. When the enclosure finally filled with steam, he picked her up and walked them both under the water, laughing at her outraged protest as he pulled the glass door shut, and put himself between her and the pounding water.
“That was mean!”
“I’m sorry.” His apology was sharply weakened by the fact that he was trying not to grin.
“No, you’re not. You wait, buddy. Payback’s a bitch.”
“Whatever that means,” he said cheerfully, then grabbed the soap and began smoothing it over her breasts.
The shower took longer than it should have, but Maeve wasn’t going to complain. In a very short period of time, she’d become quite fond of sex. Or maybe it was sex with Dragan. God knew he was worth growing fond of. And it wasn’t just his body, either. He could be deadly serious when necessary, and overprotective most of the time, but he was also wickedly charming and clever, and amazingly optimistic given his history. But then, if she’d been in a tiny prison for as long as he had—and if she was still sane, which was no sure thing—she might be so happy to be free that everything would be a delight. From fresh air and sunshine, to cars and how to drive them, to new tastes in food and everything in between. Hell, he even loved jeans and t-shirts, although she could understand that. She loved them, too.
Packing up took a lot less time than showering. The longest discussion they had was over Dragan’s insistence that his sword go with him, since they might well be facing an enemy. Maeve fought him on that, because the damn thing was too obvious, and would only attract attention. She didn’t care about ordinary tourists who might point and stare. She was more concerned about the local police who would probably not welcome a big guy wandering around with four plus feet of sharpened steel.
After much discussion, he agreed with her assessment. He wasn’t happy about it, and announced he’d be purchasing a gun of his own and learning to use it as soon as possible, but in the end, he settled for the two knives he always wore—on his belt and in his boot. Maeve didn’t need to choose. She had the sub-compact Glock in its paddle holster beneath her jacket, and a small Spyderco folding knife that was as handy for slicing tape as for defense. She usually kept it in her purse, but slipped it into her jacket pocket instead. She wasn’t at all sure she’d be able to use it effectively. Her first instinct would always be to grab her gun, since she’d trained with it enough to be comfortable. But it never hurt to have something sharp in your pocket, if only to give Dragan another blade to use in a pinch.