Eagle's Heart (21 page)

The room swayed a bit as the alcohol mixed with the sedatives in her system.

Yelena stirred, raising her head to squint at Linda. She looked sweaty and pale, side effects of both the drugs and the lack of ventilation in the room.

“Salomeh?” she asked with such hope that it cut through Linda’s pleasant narcotic haze.

“Salomeh is dead,” Linda replied, leaning against the door frame for support.
Julian’s dead.

Yelena’s head dropped back onto the bed, and she shut her eyes tightly as if that could keep out the truth.

Linda found a strange satisfaction in watching the girl’s hope extinguish. Perhaps she really had been around Bardhyn for too long. Or perhaps she wanted to spare the girl the pain of waiting for a savior who would never come.

Hope. It was worse than any drug.

Chapter Nineteen

After driving around long enough to make sure they weren’t being tailed, Julian followed Salomeh’s directions to a run-down but serviceable motel near LaGuardia and got them a room. After tucking the car into a spot where it was hidden by high grass on one side and a rusted-out trailer on the other, he guided Salomeh, who had grown increasingly quiet during their ride, up to the hotel room.

It was small and dim, the carpet threadbare. The air conditioner was so loud it sounded like a plane was preparing to take off somewhere in the vicinity of the room. Basically, the place looked like it had been copied from the universal “crappy motel” template and pasted onto this particular location, but it would serve their purpose.

Salomeh dropped heavily onto the double bed, seemingly unaware of her surroundings.

“I always wondered what it would be like to stay at the Bates Motel,” he said as he secured the door and windows and checked the place out as thoroughly as he had done with her apartment. “Thank you for helping me to live my dream.”

He had hoped to get a laugh out of her, anything other than this troubling silence, but she simply shrugged.

“One of my mentees had a mother who was trying to get out of an abusive relationship,” she said. “Apparently this is a good place to go when you don’t want to be found.”

Her voice was slower than normal, her eyes too wide. He walked over and knelt in front of her, searching for signs of a concussion. Blood had dried on her face and clothes, and her hair corkscrewed out from under the makeshift bandage.

“Salomeh, can you talk to me?” he asked. “I know you might not want to, but you’ve hit your head at least twice today, and I need to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “But I just keep thinking about the man and the explosion.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, although he was sorrier he hadn’t gotten more information from the man before the idiot took the flambé method of escape.

“I shouldn’t care,” she said. “And that bald guy blew our car up. But I can’t get that image out of my head. And that makes me think of the other man, the one I hit with the frying pan. And the one you stabbed, and the way the man with the broken neck fell to the floor like a bag of potatoes. Everything has been moving so fast that it didn’t seem real until now.”

Her voice was getting louder and more fractured. She was shaking, and he was sure he could hear her teeth chattering. He was certain she didn’t have a concussion, but the day’s events were taking their toll on her.

He held her face in his hands.

“Salomeh, what’s happening right now is you’re going into shock,” he explained gently. “You’ve been very strong, but even the strongest person would have a hard time dealing with what you’ve witnessed today. Let’s take care of that gash, and then you should go to bed, okay?”

“I want to take a shower,” she said.

“I should go with you,” he said.

“No!” she exclaimed. It was the most reaction he had gotten out of her since their arrival, which was a bit disheartening, but he would take it.

“What if you fall in the shower?” he asked.

Salomeh gave a low, mirthless laugh and placed a hand on his chest to stay him. He could feel the way her fingertips shook as they pressed into him, but she still wouldn’t allow him to join her.

“I need some time alone,” she said. “But thank you for offering.”

He gave her a nod, and she shuffled into the bathroom. After a few moments, the sound of water hitting ceramic hissed from beneath the door.

Julian lay back on the bed, tired to his core. He had been in quite a few shit storms in his life, but this one was category five. How was he going to get them out of this? Who could he trust? And what was he supposed to do about Bardhyn’s meeting the next day?

The bathroom door creaked, and Salomeh poked her head out. “Actually, can I keep the door open, just in case?” she asked. On top of frightened and exhausted, she looked embarrassed.

“Of course. I won’t take it as an invitation,” he said, although the thought of joining her stirred something in him despite his fatigue.

She nodded and stepped back into the cloud of steam that billowed out from the bathroom.

To bathe.
Lavō, lavāre, lāvī, lautum
, he thought, falling back on his verb conjugation to clear his mind.
Iuvō, iuvāre, iūvī, iūtum
. To assist.
Iuvō Salomeh lavāre…

He dozed off before he could continue that train of thought. The lack of noise from the bathroom awakened him. Just as he was about to get up and check on her, he heard her puttering around.

“Feeling better?” he asked sleepily when she finally emerged. The makeshift bandage was gone and her hair hung loosely about her shoulders, but there were traces of red on the poor excuse for a hotel towel that barely covered her. It exposed the marks across her chest and shoulder where the seat belt had prevented her from flying through the window, and the bruises around her neck from her encounter with Alexi.

Julian clenched his fists at the sight. Alexi didn’t know it, but he was a walking dead man. He should only hope for such a peaceful death as being engulfed in a ball of flames.

“Is there anything in the bag I can wear?” she asked. “My clothes are drying. There was blood.”

She shrugged as if that were normal for her now, making Julian feel even more tired. He found a T-shirt that was large enough to be a dress on her and handed it over, turning away as she slid it on over the towel.

He beckoned her to the bed. “Let me check your wound. Again. This is one routine we need to break.”

She walked over and sank onto the bed.

“I don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” she said groggily, wincing a little as Julian ripped open an alcohol wipe and dabbed at her wound. “Once, when I was a kid, I bumped my head and my mom told me not to go to sleep because I might never wake up. What if I go to sleep and I don’t wake up?”

Julian ignored the implications of her question and the ease with which she asked it.

“It’s safe for you to sleep,” he said. “The reason you’re so sluggish is because you’re running on fumes. Your body needs rest.”

Under normal circumstances he would have taken her to the hospital to confirm his exam, but since he had no idea who he could trust or who was working with Bardhyn, he didn’t want to risk it.

“You better be right,” she said, unable to stop the huge yawn that ate half her sentence.

He pulled off the remains of his T-shirt and wrapped another strip around her head to provide cushioning for the injury while she slept.

“If I thought there was any chance of you not waking up, I’d keep you awake all night,” he said.

She lay back against the bed and looked at him through half-closed eyes, her fingers exploring the bandage he had applied. A silly grin spread across her face as her eyes lingered on his bare torso. “Like you did last night,” she said with a laugh, and then added more soberly, “I think I’ve aged ten years since then.”

Julian thought back to the horrible moment when he saw her hanging bloody and limp inside their wrecked car.

“I’d say I’ve aged twenty,” he said. “And so I probably wouldn’t be able to keep you up
that
way, as much as I might enjoy trying.”

She smiled but didn’t answer. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her hand slowly dropped to her side on the bed.

After setting up a few basic booby traps that he hoped would wake him if anyone managed to find them, he rolled her aside as gently as he could in order to tug the covers from beneath her and tuck her in.

Her mouth was pulled down into a frown, and he wondered if she had already slipped into a nightmare. He turned away, ready to grab a pillow and bunk on the floor, when her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Her palm on his skin sent a shiver through his tired frame.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going to sleep on the floor, zemer.”

“You can sleep here,” she said. Her eyes cracked open a little. “With me. We’re partners in crime now. Partners can share a bed.”

He slid under the covers next to her, stopping when he felt the heat of her body close enough to warm his skin.

“Can partners hold each other?” he asked quietly. The air conditioner droned on. The room was dark, but he felt the movement of her nodding head, heard the sound of bandage against pillowcase.

“After a day like today, yes,” she said.

He pulled her into his arms, mindful of the fact that she had been battered more than a few times. Her skin was soft and smelled of citrusy soap.

“Do you think we can beat him, Julian?” she whispered.

He breathed heavily into her hair.

We, he thought, oddly happy as they wrapped up a day filled with murder and betrayal.

“Sure. Right now we sleep,” he said, barely lucid. “Tomorrow we win,” he added as he sank into the black abyss of sleep.

Chapter Twenty

Salomeh awoke to find herself locked into position against Julian’s chest. He held her close, cradling her against the hard contours of his body. She knew he was much larger than her, but she felt downright petite against his broad chest and muscular thighs.

She sighed.

He must have grabbed me in his sleep, she thought. Probably while dreaming he was with someone he really cared about instead of being stuck on another assignment.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. Had she really asked him to get into bed with her? Everything from the point when they reached the hotel room the night before was a little fuzzy. She vaguely remembered him bandaging her head, and then she had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Light diffused through the cheap curtains, illuminating the room just enough to remind her what sort of motel they were at and why. She felt a flood of fear even thinking about everything she had been through the day before. It seemed like a bad dream or given her circumstances prior to that day, a worse dream.

When Salomeh had her name dragged through the mud and her livelihood destroyed, she’d thought things couldn’t possibly go downhill from there. But hidden somewhere behind her shock and depression there had been the belief that there was a magic bullet that would fix everything.

She was innocent, and the bad guys couldn’t win. That wouldn’t be fair

But now, on top of her life being ruined, she was on the run from people who wanted to end her life. She had almost been
killed
. She was sure Marta must be driving herself crazy with worry since Salomeh hadn’t told her much—the less her friend knew, the better. Was her friend safe? Was her family safe? They lived on the other side of the country, but was Birdie crazy enough to go after them?

Her heart started to race, and she shut her eyes against the tears. She was tired of crying, and she was tired of worrying. She decided to focus on Julian instead. Right now, as she nestled in his arms, he felt like safety. He felt like the closest thing to normal she had. He was a liar, of course, but he was nice enough to pretend he cared for her, and he was very good at pretending.

She almost believed him.

She allowed herself to revel in the comfort of his warmth against her in the chilly air-conditioned room. It felt so good, so right, even if it wasn’t real.

This is pathetic, she chided herself, and with a sigh she moved to pull herself out of his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Julian asked, tightening his grip. He didn’t sound like he had just woken up at all. His hand rubbed up her arm in what was probably meant to be a soothing motion, but a spiral of something more pleasant than mere comfort whirled up her spine.

“Are you holding me to make sure I don’t try to escape?” she asked. Surely by now he could give up this ruse and let her be. It would certainly be less embarrassing for her. “I don’t think I’ll be ready to make a run for it until I’ve had my first cup of disgusting motel coffee.”

He shifted but still held her tightly against him. Salomeh felt the latent sparks of desire starting to flare within her, and when he spoke into her ear, his low tone sent a shiver straight through her.

“I’m holding you because it feels good. I like waking up with you in my arms.”

He placed a soft kiss on her earlobe, and she trembled against him.

“But you’re right,” he added. “I don’t want to let you escape.”

Despite how good his ministrations felt, Salomeh curled forward in an attempt to pull away from him.

“Please stop,” she whispered. She was glad he was behind her so he couldn’t see the effect he had on her, how easily he laid her open. “I know you feel bad about deceiving me, but you don’t have to pretend anymore. I can deal with goons and guns, and apparently even grenades, but I can’t deal with more lies.”

He released her, and she thought he would finally let her be, but instead he rested his hand on her shoulder. She tried to resist, but he was so strong all it took was a slight push and she was flat on her back. His other arm rested on his pillow, propping up his head as he looked down at her with those inscrutable green eyes. They were shadowed by the dimness of the room, but she could see the hint of annoyance as he gazed at her.

“Salomeh, listen to me very carefully. I’m. Not. Pretending,” he said, his accent more pronounced than usual as he spoke each word.