Making my way back to where Sanaa was, I scanned quickly for more damage that was an immediate threat and was two paces away from the bedroom when the power flickered, then went out.
“Ronan!”
“Stay where you are, Sanaa.” Fuck. “I’m coming back.” Holstering my gun, I glanced at my cell, but neither the texts nor the pics had gone through. “I’m here.” Dropping her purse and crouching by the bed, I lifted the mattress and used the flashlight on my cell so I could see that she was okay.
She gasped. “You’re covered in soot.”
“I know.” Turning off the flashlight on my cell and shoving it in my pocket, I grabbed her clothes and handed them to her. “Hold these, but don’t move yet. Conditions out here aren’t good. Give me a minute to make a barrier between you and the dust.” I knew from past experience that inhaling debris after an explosion could cause asthma at best, and lung damage at worst. “I don’t want you breathing any of this in.”
On her stomach, but braced on the arm holding the dress to her face, she took the clothes and clutched them to her chest as she nodded.
I lowered the mattress, and let my eyes adjust to the dark before glancing around.
Curtains, sheets, ceiling fan, headboard… large framed painting above the bed. That’d work.
Quickly moving toward the sliders to the balcony, I had to make a decision. The winds were coming in strong and the weather was deteriorating, but the air quality in the suite was shit. I kicked out the spiderwebbed safety glass on the one slider still standing.
“Oh my God!” Sanaa shrieked. “What was that?”
I glanced back as she lifted the edge of the mattress to look out. “Mattress down,” I barked. “Keep it down. I’m just getting some fresh air in here.”
“Okay.” Thankfully she retreated under the mattress.
The distant sound of sirens filtered up through the howling wind, and I set to work. Shaking out the sheets, I then ripped a few strips and tied them off between the headboard and ceiling fan. Taking the painting off the wall, I jammed it upright at the end of the bed between the mattress and the short footboard. Using my knife, I stabbed two holes in the canvas and tied off two more strips of ripped sheet from the painting to the fan. My makeshift frame for a tent over the mattress complete, I yanked the curtains down and layered them over.
It wasn’t much, but it’d work.
Shaking my hair off and dusting shit from my shoulders, I crouched under the curtain and lifted the edge of the mattress.
Shaking, lowering her dress just enough to speak, she put on a brave front. “Hi.”
My heart took a hit. “You okay?”
She nodded, but I knew she was lying.
She looked past my shoulder. “How bad is it?”
“It’s not good, but emergency services are here, so we’re going to sit tight for now and wait for them to get to us.”
“How long will that be?”
I didn’t tell her it would probably be hours, maybe tomorrow. Protocol wasn’t to rush into a compromised structure. “Hopefully soon.”
Inhaling as if she was fighting tears, she nodded. “How are the others?”
My first reaction was to search her face for any signs that she was asking specifically about my brother, but it was dark enough to not be able to read any expression and I tamped down the bullshit in my head that was taking me down that path at a time like this. “I haven’t heard specifically, but I think Vance, Tyler and Ty were all downstairs when the explosions detonated. As far as I can tell, the bombs were up here or on the floor below, so hopefully there isn’t too much damage downstairs.” I didn’t tell her the hotel would probably be a total rebuild with compromised structural issues, because I knew her. She’d feel responsible, and I didn’t want to add guilt to her fear. I just needed to get her the fuck out of here.
“I hope they’re all okay.” She looked at me a beat. “And Kyle?”
“I don’t know.” But that piece of shit was a dead man. I was going to hunt the fucker down the second I got her to a secure location.
“Do you think for sure it was him?” she asked in a small voice I couldn’t read.
“The MO fits.” The fucker was insane, reckless, and bent on revenge. It was him.
She inhaled, then coughed.
I reached under the mattress and put her dress back over her mouth. “Okay, we’re going to keep that there while we get you dressed. I made a shelter over the bed to keep the dust out, but it won’t protect you from falling debris. So we’re going to have you come out, quickly get dressed, then I’m putting you back under the mattress. Ready?”
Holding the dress over her nose and mouth, she tucked her clothes under her arm and nodded.
“Good girl.” I stood to half my height and lifted the mattress carefully, giving her enough room to get out, but not enough to disrupt my makeshift tent. “Step carefully.” I held my hand out to her.
When her small hand grasped mine, I squeezed once, then held her steady as she crawled out. Once she was on her feet, I lowered the mattress.
My Songbird, naked and exposed, and so fucking vulnerable it hurt, dropped her clothes and launched herself at me.
I had to put my arms around him.
I’d been terrified he wasn’t going to come back when he said he was going to get me clothes. I couldn’t go another second without feeling his warm body and hearing his heart beat. I had to know that he was okay.
So I hugged him as he stood with his knees bent and his shoulders hunched so his head didn’t poke through the top of his tent.
I loved him.
I loved him so hard it hurt, and I wanted to tell him, but I was afraid he would think it was the situation talking, or the way he’d made love to me. I was afraid he’d think I was saying it out of fear and not conviction.
So I held my tongue and hugged him as hard as I could.
His arms went around me, and for one brief moment, I felt like we were going to be okay. Not just surviving this, but us, together.
He stroked my hair before he pulled back. “You need to get dressed.” He kissed my forehead, then he picked up my clothes and held them out to me. “I want you back under the mattress.”
I looked up at him and wiped a smudge of dust from his cheek. “Okay.” But then I didn’t move.
The wind blew, the building creaked like it was going to topple, and I suddenly realized that this could be it. The building could collapse, another explosion could go off, or Kyle could burst into this room and shoot us both. The horrific scenarios flew through my mind unchecked, and I couldn’t hold my words back anymore.
I gave him all I had. “I love you, Ronan Conlon.”
His nostrils flared, his chest rose, and his hand landed on my hip. His fingers squeezed hard enough to leave their mark.
For one terrifyingly vulnerable moment, my admission, my love, my hope, my heart—it hung suspended between us.
Then my dominant, quiet, war hero Ronan surfaced. “You remember those words, Songbird. Because the next time I’m deep inside you, making your body sing, you’re going to tell them to me again. Understood?”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. “Understood.”
“Get dressed,” he commanded almost harshly as he let go of my hip.