Defending Raven (Mountain Mercenaries #7)(36)

“Good. Leave it for now. We’ll give it to Gray when we get to the motel. He’ll overnight it to my contact in the States.”

Mags nodded and took a bite of the protein bar. It tasted delicious and helped curb her hunger, which had just begun to return after not eating since that morning. “Were you able to get a picture?” she asked after she’d swallowed a bite.

Dave nodded. He wasn’t talking much, which made her nervous.

“Was it all right? I tried to keep him outside for as long as possible. I also tried to look for you, but didn’t want to be obvious.”

“You did perfect,” Dave said, lifting her hand and kissing the back of it.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

She bit her lip. Something was definitely wrong. She hadn’t seen Dave in years, but in the time she’d been around him in the last week or so, she’d begun to read his moods pretty easily. And something was definitely not right at the moment.

She kept quiet for the rest of the ride back to the motel. It felt amazing not to have to walk the five miles to the barrio, she couldn’t deny it. Ball pulled into a parking lot in the back of the motel, and she wasn’t really surprised to see Gray already there, waiting for them.

Dave helped her out of the minivan and kept hold of her hand when she was standing next to it.

“Give him the tissue,” Dave said, sounding a little calmer than he’d been in the van.

Mags reached into her pocket and pulled out the used tissue David had blown his nose in earlier. Not too much grossed her out after everything she’d seen and done, but for some reason, boogers and snot still made her want to gag.

She held it by a corner as she placed it in a plastic bag Gray held out.

Chuckling, Gray said, “For me, it’s vomit. I can handle shit, spit, blood, and anything else the human body can expel . . . except for puke. It makes me want to hurl every time.”

“How’re you handling baby spit-up?” Dave asked with a slight grin.

Gray made a face. “I’m handling that okay. I mean, when he’s burped after eating, it’s basically just milk, so it’s not quite as gross.”

“You’re gonna be in big trouble when Darby gets the flu,” Ball said with a chuckle. He hadn’t moved from the driver’s seat, and it was obvious he was going to drive Gray somewhere so he could mail the tissue.

“Nope. Allye and I already made a deal. I’ll change diapers whenever I’m home for as long as I need to, and she’ll take care of any puke that might happen,” Gray said with a smile and a wink. Then he sobered. “How’s David?”

Mags flinched. She wasn’t used to talking about her son so openly. Hell, before today, none of the women she lived with even knew about him. “He’s okay.”

“Saw the pictures Dave sent. He’s adorable . . . and the spitting image of his mom,” Gray said. Then he gave Dave a chin lift and climbed into the passenger side of the minivan.

Dave didn’t give her a chance to respond, merely pulled her toward the door to the motel.

Still feeling uneasy, Mags let Dave lead her up the stairs to the second floor and to a room right next to the stairwell. He opened the door and held it open, gesturing for her to enter first. She did, and at first glance, the room was nothing special. It had two queen beds, a tiny television on a dresser, and an even smaller table and chair in the corner.

Dave walked over to a bag on the floor and plopped it on the mattress. It had some sort of biometric lock, and Dave used his finger to unlock it. He pulled out a laptop and placed the bag back on the floor.

Mags stood in the middle of the room feeling ill at ease. For the first time, she was acutely aware of how she must look . . . and smell. Personal hygiene wasn’t something she gave a lot of thought to, simply because she didn’t have the means or ability to do much about it.

But standing in the clean motel room, seeing Dave settle on the clean bedspread, made it painfully obvious she was filthy. She didn’t know what to do, where to sit, what to say. She felt extremely awkward, which she hated.

Dave had opened the computer and was busy clicking keys. He didn’t even look up when he said, “If you want, you can go ahead and shower. There’s soap and stuff in there.”

God, how she wanted to take that shower. It had been so long since Mags had been able to take a hot shower . . . and not worry about who might want to join her in it and what they might want to do to her.

Still, she hesitated. “I thought we were going to talk,” she said.

Dave looked up then—and Mags almost staggered back at the look in his eyes. The longing was easy to see. But it was the frustration and agony that really struck her.

“There’re so many things I want to do for you, Raven. I want to feed you. Clothe you. Give you a safe place to heal. I want my friends to be your friends, and I want to give our son the comfort and safety he’s been missing. And more than anything, I want to hold you.”

He sighed heavily. “But I know out of all those things, the only ones I can do at the moment are feed and clothe you. I had Ball pick up some things I thought you might like to wear today, and they’re in the bathroom on the counter. I guessed on the sizes. Take your time. I’ll take you back to the barrio anytime if you want to go—you aren’t a prisoner here. But I’m hoping after you shower you might stay and . . . talk. Just talk. Ball said he’d bunk with one of the others tonight. You don’t have to be scared of being alone with me. We’ll just talk.”