Defending Morgan (Mountain Mercenaries #3)(15)
When the door closed behind him, Morgan asked, “Did he suspect anything?”
He’d forgotten that she didn’t understand Spanish, and explained, “No. He was only concerned with the money.”
“Good.”
Arrow could tell that Morgan was flagging. He’d managed to steal a bottle of water for her earlier, but he knew he needed to get some real food in her as well as several glasses of water. It was hot, and they’d both sweated more than their fair share. They needed to replace the lost fluids pronto.
They walked to the end of the row of rooms, and he used the key to enter the second-to-last one. Pushing open the door, Arrow winced at the condition of the room. It looked fairly clean, although the decor was straight out of the eighties, right down to the cheesy art on the walls and the threadbare comforter on the double bed.
He stared at it for a moment before realizing the clerk had definitely believed their cover story. Rex had told Arrow that he’d reserved a room with two beds, but unless the beat-up old couch in the corner was a pullout, the clerk hadn’t seen any reason to give them more than one bed, since they were supposed to be newlyweds.
Expecting Morgan to protest the accommodations, he was somewhat surprised when she dropped her arm from around his waist and walked toward the bathroom. She turned when she reached it and asked, “Do you need to use the bathroom before I hog it?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, beautiful. It’s all yours.”
“Thanks.” Then, without another word, she entered the small room and shut the door. He heard the water in the sink turn on almost immediately, and he suddenly wished he could’ve stopped and gotten her some basic toiletries, like a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo . . . chamomile bubble bath . . .
Shaking off the ridiculous thoughts—they’d been trying to stay one step ahead of the men who wanted to force her back into captivity; they hadn’t had time to shop, for God’s sake—Arrow pulled out the tiny radio he’d been using to communicate with Black and Ball. He sent a short, encrypted message letting them know they were at the motel and they’d catch up with them the next day. Then he paced.
Being fidgety wasn’t like Arrow. He was generally very calm. He could wait for hours for the exact right time to make his move in combat situations. So why he was wearing a path in the old carpet was beyond him.
He heard the water in the shower come on—and instantly pictured Morgan standing under the spray without a stitch of clothing on.
He shook his head in disgust. He had to get his shit together. The last thing the poor woman needed was him hitting on her. Lord knew what she’d been through; it might be years before she’d be comfortable letting any man near her . . . not that he could blame her.
Focused on his hatred for men who exploited and abused women and children, Arrow was startled when he heard a loud crash from the bathroom. He was moving before he’d even thought about what he was doing. He had his pistol in his hand and was inside the bathroom in seconds, ready to blow away anyone who dared try to take Morgan.
He froze at what he saw.
Without hesitation, he put his weapon on the countertop and stripped off his vest with its myriad pockets. His shirt came off next, but he left on his undershirt. He stripped out of his cargo pants; luckily he had on a pair of baggy boxers, so he hoped she wouldn’t be unduly alarmed.
Morgan didn’t say a word, simply stared up at him with huge eyes and tears coursing down her cheeks. She looked exhausted—and broken. And Arrow hated it.
She’d obviously slipped in the tub and landed on her ass. The shower curtain was askew, giving him a clear view of her huddled form at the bottom of the tub. Arrow quickly switched the water from the showerhead to the tap and twisted the drain, keeping the water from escaping. He was surprised the water was still hot, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Scoot forward, beautiful,” he said softly.
She did as he asked, pulling her knees up to her chest in the process. Arrow stepped into the tub behind her and sat. His legs stretched out beside her hips, and he waited.
It took a while, but finally, when the water in the tub had covered their hips and was lapping at their bellies, she slowly sat back, resting against his chest.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Relax, Morgan. I’ve got you.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. Her arms were still crossed over her chest, and he couldn’t miss the way they trembled as she wept.
Taking a risk, Arrow pulled her hands down, then wrapped an arm around her chest, covering her with his large forearm.
That did it. He could feel her relax completely against him, her hands coming to rest on his knees at her sides. Her chest heaved with sobs, and her breath hitched as she continued to cry. Not commenting on her tears, he simply held her and waited until the water was almost flowing over the edge of the small tub before using his feet to turn off the taps.
Eventually, she stopped crying and simply lay limp in his arms. They stayed that way in silence for several minutes before he asked gently, “Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell, did you?”
She shook her head against him but didn’t speak.
Arrow sighed. He wanted to urge her to talk, but despite the fact she was lying in the bathtub with him, they were essentially still strangers. He didn’t like the additional bruises all over her body in various stages of healing. He didn’t like the way he could see her ribs. And he definitely didn’t like the way her knees were scraped and bruised. But the last thing he was going to do was demand she talk to him. He wanted her trust more than he wanted his next breath, but she had to give it freely; he couldn’t wrest it away from her unwillingly.