The knock turned into a pound that shook the door. “Police! Open!”
Hector pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath. “All right, go into the bathroom while I deal with the cops. If they ask about you, I’ll tell them you got sick from drinking too much.”
Hope stood in the bathroom, one ear pressed to the door, while she kept a wary eye on the spider on the wall. She normally wasn’t such a wuss about critters, but the sucker was almost big enough to double for one of those face-hugger creatures in the Alien movies. Luckily, it was crawling away from her and toward the shower stall.
The men had lowered their voices, making it difficult for her to eavesdrop. From what she could tell by the tone of their conversation, Hector wasn’t thrilled with the idea of using her as a guide. Hell, she wasn’t thrilled with it either, but what would happen to her if Hector torpedoed her arrangement with Wade?
Her thoughts were disrupted by a loud knocking sound. Moments later, she heard approaching footsteps, and she jumped back from the door as it swung open toward her.
Guilt must have been written all over her face, because Wade pegged her with a hard look. “What were you doing?”
For an instant, she considered acting innocent, but what was the frigging point? She was a lousy liar, and he’d probably see right through it anyway. Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. “I was trying to hear your conversation.”
The answer didn’t seem to faze him one bit. “Any luck?”
“Not really. That door’s a lot thicker than it looks.” Her pulse jumped when he stepped through the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?”
Wade raised one finger to his lips to signal for her to be quiet. He stepped farther into the bathroom, crowding her personal space and giving her no choice but to move back. “Cops are at the door. How much you want to bet they’re here for you?”
Panic slammed her heart against her ribs, and she tried her damnedest not to let it show on her face. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re in here.”
“If the drunken American is puking in the bathroom, they might not think to look for you here.”
She supposed that made sense, but hiding from the cops in a small, dank bathroom with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Surly wasn’t her idea of a good time.
The door closed with a soft click, and Hope squeezed against the sink to accommodate Wade’s much larger body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how a man his size fit into that tiny shower. It had to look utterly ridiculous. For an instant, she pictured him in there, soapy and naked, and a flush of heat flooded her body.
“What are you doing?” he mouthed.
“I’m giving you room,” she whispered.
He let out a low huff of amusement. “Relax, I won’t bite.”
She wasn’t so sure about that.
It was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart, and she strained to listen to what was happening outside the bathroom. She could make out Hector’s voice, and that of who she assumed were the two policemen, but their words were too muffled and the Spanish was spoken too quickly for her to piece together their entire conversation.
Wade didn’t seem stressed in the least. He stood by the door with his back to the wall, his arms folded across his broad chest and his expression void of emotion. Every now and again, his gaze flicked to her, not friendly or judging, more like he were checking to see whether she was about to hyperventilate.
She gave what she hoped was an assuring smile, and he shifted his gaze away.
Yes, she was worried, but thanks to her Army training, she hadn’t ventured into freak-out territory. She hadn’t freaked when armed men invaded the village where she’d been working to provide medical aid to the poor. Hadn’t freaked when they shot the other doctor. Hell, she hadn’t even freaked when they bound her wrists, put a sack over her head, and dragged her off to the compound. If she could handle all that, being stuck in tight quarters with Tiny was a piece of cake.
And yet…she darted a quick glance at him. If it struck his fancy, he could damn well do whatever he wanted to her. He was bigger, stronger, and he seemed like the type who could handle himself in a fight. But her instincts insisted she was safe with this man. She couldn’t explain it; something about him just made her feel secure. It was why she’d chosen to approach him at the bar.
Outside the bathroom, the conversation continued, and her breath caught when she heard one of the policemen ask something that sounded an awful lot like, “Who’s in there?”
“Oh, that’s just my friend,” Hector replied, his voice a little louder. “He drank too much at the bar and got sick.”
“The big, dumb American?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
One of the cops spoke, and the other one snickered, but the words came out too fast for Hope to translate. Whatever they said must have been insulting to Wade, because his mouth pulled down into a frown.
A brisk knock on the bathroom door had her nearly jumping out of her beat-up tennis shoes.
“Open the door,” one of the cops commanded.
Wade raised a finger to his lips once again. Then he made a guttural sound and slurred, “Uno momento, man.”
He flushed the toilet, turned on the sink faucet, and then motioned for her to step into the shower stall. Normally, she wouldn’t have a problem with that, but the spider was crawling across the tiles, and she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of getting up close and personal with it.
Biting back her aversion, she stepped into the stall, the spider a foot or so from her head, and Wade closed the curtain to conceal her presence.
Seconds later, she heard the bathroom door open, and then Wade said, “Oh, hey, I remember you.” His tone and demeanor had totally changed, from surly to drunken surfer dude.
What came next was a barrage of rapid-fire Spanish from the cops, Hector, and Wade. From what she could hear, Wade was slurring up a storm, a convincing impression of a sloppy-drunk frat boy, while Hector acted like the disgusted adult and the cops grilled Wade about “la güera.”
Meanwhile, the spider crept along the tiles near the corner of the shower, making it increasingly difficult for Hope to avoid it. It was totally irrational, especially after everything she’d been through. The thing was a minute fraction of her size, but she couldn’t shake her sense of revulsion. Or the urge to knock it off the wall and crush it with her shoe. But what if she missed and it crawled up her leg? Just thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine and stopped her from doing anything stupid.
In the main room, the voices got louder. Then she heard a series of thumps, a crash, and Hector cursing up a storm.
And then everything went quiet. Was Wade okay? How about Hector? Not knowing the answers gnawed on her nerves, and she barely resisted the urge to peek around the curtain.
Moments later, the bathroom door swung open and Wade said, “It’s safe. You can come out now.”
She let out a breath of relief. Eager to put space between her and the spider, Hope whipped back the curtain, stepped out of the stall, and hightailed it out of the bathroom.
It looked as though a tornado had ripped through the main room. The chair and table were knocked over, the television smashed, while both of the cots were overturned, the thin mattress pads a foot or two away. The cops were sprawled out on the floor, alive but unconscious. Wade stood by the window, his hands on his hips, seeming rather pleased with himself.