I stepped out of the shower and dried off only after I’d threatened to exhaust the entire building’s supply of hot water. When the steam production stopped, delicious wafts of air slipped in from beneath the door. Tamir was cooking, and I was suddenly ravenous. I threw on my clothes and did my best to finger-comb my hair into behaving. A small sliver along the edge of the mirror had begun to defog, which I used to give myself a once-over and noticed the angry red scrape on my cheek.
Glancing at the door, I debated going out to ask Tamir for antibiotic ointment. It would have been the polite thing to do, rather than snoop through his drawers. Polite and not at all helpful. I wanted to learn more about the unusual man who had taken me in, and snooping was a great place to start. I might not have been evil, like some people, but I also never claimed to be perfect.
The only storage in the bathroom was a series of three drawers and the cabinet under the sink beneath the marble vanity. The top drawer contained a beard trimmer and fingernail clippers, along with a comb and an assortment of men’s toiletries. The other two drawers had Q-tips, cotton balls, and other crap that wasn’t remotely helpful on either front.
Squatting down, I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and found several rolls of toilet paper, as one might expect, along with cleaning supplies and a plunger. Nothing sordid and no first-aid kit. I sighed and started to stand when a glint of silver at the top of the cabinet caught my eye. I ducked my head to get a better view and discovered a small gun in a holster attached to the top of the inside of the cabinet. The sink was one of those fake bowls that sat on the counter, rather than being sunken into the vanity. It gave just enough room to attach the holster to the flat marble above.
Why the hell did Tamir have a gun hidden inside his bathroom vanity? Despite the heat still radiating from my body, tiny goose bumps perched along the length of my arms. Was it normal for someone who was ex-military to hide guns in their home as though preparing for an invasion? He didn’t seem like one of those radical doomsayers or anything so eccentric, but would I be able to tell if he was?
Mrs. Timmons would swear on her Bible that I was a good girl from California with two loving parents and a thirst for adventure because that was the story I’d told her. Was that all we really knew about the people around us—what they chose to tell us? That was exactly what it meant. So what did that mean for Tamir? Nothing—it meant I knew absolutely nothing about him. One kind deed wasn’t a window into his soul. He could still be just as dangerous as any other man.
One night.
I needed to survive one night in his house, then I was gone. Whatever his backstory was, it didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t be there long enough for it to make a difference. I quickly stood and grabbed my phone before opening the bathroom door. A wall of savory flavors swarmed me, making my stomach growl.
Before I headed for the kitchen, I texted a message to Stephanie.
Me: I’ve been found—someone attacked me tonight. I need help.
Stephanie: Are you ok?
Me: Yes, just scared.
Stephanie: Where are you?
Me: At a friend’s for the night, but I need to leave town.
Stephanie: Of course, let me see what I can come up with.
Me: Thank you!
Stephanie: Meet me at Tops Diner off 280 in Newark. Can you be there tomorrow morning by 7?
Me: No problem, see you then.
Chapter 8
Tamir
“Whatever that is, it smells delicious.” Emily propped herself against the wall, freshly showered and dressed in what appeared to be clean workout clothes.
“Just chicken and rice, nothing extravagant. It’s actually done if you want to have a seat.”
“Before we eat, do you have any antibiotic ointment?” She gestured to a cut on her cheek.
“Of course, let me grab it.” I wiped my hands on a dish towel and slid past where she stood to go back to my room. I kept the first-aid kit in my work duffel bag to make sure it was always with me, just in case things got complicated. I grabbed the tube of ointment and went back to the kitchen, removing the cap while I walked. “Come here.” My voice betrayed me, going gravelly and coarse with the bolt of lust that had assaulted me when I smelled my soap lingering on her skin.
There was something about having your scent on a woman that was beyond gratifying. And someone like Emily, who was wild and unpredictable? It made my inner beast purr with satisfaction.
For that reason alone, I needed to hand her the tube and let her apply the medication herself. Even the smallest of touches was problematic where she was concerned. It was best if I kept my distance, so I told myself to hand over the cream and step back.
Apparently, my superiors had been right.
I was insubordinate and resistant to taking orders.
I ignored myself completely, giving in to the compulsion to breathe her in, to touch her, to feel her. I put a small amount of ointment on my finger and lifted it to her face. She stood just inches from me, so close, I could feel her shaky breaths skate across my forearm as I gently spread the cream on her cheek.
“Any others?”
“No,” she breathed, her eyes catching mine for a long-drawn-out second before she retreated to the kitchen table.
After slipping the tube in my pocket, I retrieved the pans from the stove and put food on both our plates.
“Thanks for cooking. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I got out of the shower and could smell the food.” She dug in the second I sat down and lifted my fork.
“With enough adrenaline coursing through your system, you could have a gunshot wound and not even know it, let alone hunger pangs. It’s a powerful substance.”
Her curious gaze flitted to mine. “Do you know that from personal experience? The part about the gunshot wound?”
“I do.”
“Does that mean you saw active duty?”
“I participated in active missions for about seven years.”
She lowered her water glass from her full lips. “That’s a long time.”
“I’m an old man compared to you.”
She barked out a humorless laugh. “That sounds like a pity party if I’ve ever heard one, and I’ve thrown my fair share.”
“There’s nothing pitiful about it. I was merely pointing out that you’re practically a child, and I’m sure seven years sounds like an eternity to you.” The tension in the room quickly escalated to a stifling degree.
“As someone who’s probably been through some horrible shit, you should understand that age is just a number. Whatever you experienced during active duty would age even the youngest soldier. The same holds true for me. Unless you know what I’ve been through and the things I’ve seen, don’t assume you know me. I haven’t been a child for a very long time.” Her eyes blazed with ferocity. Indignation. Passion. Those were the most words I’d heard out of her mouth at one time, and I wanted to lap up every bit of that emotion and drain her dry until she was languid and lost in my bed.
It was the last place my brain needed to go.
After her outburst, we both ate quietly for long minutes. I attempted to ignore the lascivious voice gaining control in the back of my mine, concentrating on more important things, like the silver watch Emily wore where her sweatband had been. Interesting. Coincidence? Possibly.