“I mean to find out.” He reached into his pocket and shook out … a gallon-sized Ziploc bag? “May I have it, please? I’ll have the lab take a look.”
“Absolutely. And good fucking riddance.” She got up, went to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the bottle, using a pair of clean panties as a glove. She let it plop into Tom’s bag. And let the panties plop into the garbage can. “That applies to the bottle and you, in case you were wondering.”
Tom sealed and tucked the bag away somewhere. “Someone has done their research. Which is why I’m here. I have to help you. Please let me help you.”
This made her pulse pick up, which was annoying. Down, girl. “How do you know I’m not self-sabotaging?”
“If you were, you would still need help,” he pointed out. “Just of a different kind. But, again: you love flying too much. I can’t see you risking your license, health, and freedom in order to gain misplaced sympathy when it’s inevitable your deception would be discovered. And given what we know about the drug test and the lotion, I don’t think your illness is a coincidence. But I cannot fathom how someone has been able to salt your food with a regurgitant. You’re in a hotel, you’re not dining in a private home, and you likely haven’t eaten at the same place twice.”
“I like variety,” she agreed. “And bread pudding.”
“Nevertheless, we need to proceed as if someone has poisoned you and behave accordingly.”
“We, huh?”
“Yes, we. I—ah.” In half a second, Tom had gone from confident to diffident. “I thought we might join forces.”
She studied him. “Why?”
He just sat there for a few torturous seconds, then replied, “Because I cordially despise the thought of anyone sabotaging you, never mind a murderer. And … I regret doubting you.”
“Oh. So it’s a guilt team-up.”
“If you like.”
“I don’t like anything about this. Not one thing.”
“Understandable. And you won’t like this, either: I need to remain by your side.”
“Huh?”
“You’re being targeted by a clever killer who knows your routine and how to strike at what you love most while simultaneously stirring up your worst fears and regrets of the past, and we have no idea who it is or what, precisely, they hope to gain from this. And so I’m not inclined to let you out of my sight.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to,” she said, equally startled and, it must be said, a smidge thrilled by his determination. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”
“But you’re ill,” he exclaimed. “You should be resting right now. And all of tomorrow. You’ve been through a great deal in a shockingly short time.”
Mental note: never tell Tom how much those words meant to me. “But I’m getting better. I’m pretty much empty now, and I won’t eat anything out of a vending machine—or any solids—until I get to the airport tomorrow. I’ll just push fluids tonight.” He opened his mouth and she cut him off. “Listen, if I’m not much improved in the morning, or if I think whatever-this-is will impact my flying, I’ll ask for a reassign. I’d never put my passengers and crew at risk. If you know anything about me, you know that, at least. But I hope I don’t have to.”
“As it happens, I was flying out tomorrow as well,” he admitted, “though I had planned to ask Abe to forgive my absence in favor of staying close to you.”
She shrugged. “If this was a movie, I’d be assigned to pilot your flight, but…”
“It’s flight 420 to BOS at eleven thirty A.M.”
“Oh my God.” She groaned, and had to laugh. “So … we’re in a movie, apparently.”
“Really?” The man’s face lit up like someone had dumped an unusual death on one of his tables. “I’ll get to see you work?”
“You’ll get to keep out of my way while I work,” she warned him. “Captain Capp and Ava are entirely different people. This is going to get weird, I think. Well. Weirder.”
“Or it’s a sign we’re fated to stay close to one another.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
“It’s settled, then.” Tom stood, banged his upper thighs on the underside of the desk, sat, pushed the chair farther back, managed to stand again without hurting himself. She managed—barely—to trap her giggle before it escaped.
This hunky klutz wants to guard my body? Pretty sure he’s solid bruises from thighs to ankles. Argh, don’t think about his thighs … or his ankles …
“I will remain with you the rest of the evening and take you to the airport,” he pronounced, which was annoying, but she was tired and let it slide. “Your rental car may be compromised.”
Her annoyance disappeared. “Jesus. I didn’t even think of that.”
“We’ll all fly to Boston—”
“All?”
“Abe and my niece are traveling with me.”
“Ah. No longer horrified at the thought of exposing your family to me?”
“I apologize,” he said seriously. “I behaved foolishly.”
She sighed. The apology was sweet, but she couldn’t fault him for listening to his instincts. “Forget about it. It’s better to err on the side of ‘whoops, my bad’ when it comes to family, anyway.”
“Thank you.” Then he just looked at her. Just when the silence started to skew from charged to awkward, he added, “You require antihistamines, an antinauseant, and I wish to drop off your moisturizer for testing. Please remain in your room and leave it locked and dead-bolted until I return. Do not let anyone in. Not even room service.”
“A first in my life, but okay.”
“And you have to shower.”
“Rude.”
“A cold shower.”
She shivered. “Pass.”
“It’s the first step toward recovery,” he explained, looking earnest and adorable. “Get rid of the irritant. Do you have any diphenhydramine?”
Eh? “Not on me, no.”
“Or calamine?”
“Yeah, I grabbed some of that yesterday.”
“All right. I will be back within sixty minutes. Please take all precautions until then.”
“While showering.”
He laughed. “Yes. A cautious shower.”
Am I really going along with this? Looks like. And it’s nothing to do with the man’s essential hotness. Well. That’s not the main reason.
If she was honest with herself—and post-Hazelden, she tried to be—it was mostly fear. Someone had her in their crosshairs and she didn’t care for that in the slightest. And while Tom appointing himself bodyguard was presumptuous and possibly problematic, he was also the one who put it together and who seemed determined to get to the bottom of … well … everything.
That she could understand, even if it was the only thing about this she understood.
Sighing, she got up, flipped the lock and the dead bolt, and went to run the
(warm, thank you very much, Tom)