followed him via a tracking device in the rifle, so no sense taking chances.
There were no more flights that night, but he’d catch something to somewhere in the morning. Best not to linger after a job. Especially one that had turned out like this. He’d meant it when he told Gant he didn’t think anyone would bother to retaliate on Gant’s behalf, but he didn’t see any upside to testing the theory, either. Besides, there was always the law to be careful about, too.
He thought about immediately checking into a more obscure local hotel, but then decided against it. Best not to do anything too out of the ordinary, like suddenly disappearing from Raffles. The staff knew him too well at this point. No, better to check out tomorrow morning like a normal person, earlier than anticipated by his reservation but nothing remarkable, either.
By the time he reached the hotel, he realized he was starving. He wolfed down a meal of beef
lok lak
and
amok trei
in the hotel restaurant, then went up to his room and took a long shower. That kid. It really bugged him. Like hell they would have paid him, even if he’d done what they’d hired him for. They were just using him. And Dox had almost killed him.
He thought about calling Chantrea. But he didn’t know what to say. He had to leave town tomorrow and he doubted he’d be back for a while, if ever.
He was still wired from everything that had happened, but by the time he was done with the shower, the parasympathetic backlash was kicking in and exhaustion washed over him. He got in bed and was asleep almost instantly.
The room phone woke him. He glanced over at the bedside clock and saw it was just past midnight. He wondered who the hell would be calling him. Who even knew he was here?
Then he realized—Chantrea. She must have been trying him on his mobile, but he’d dumped it. He almost didn’t pick up, but then he did.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” she said. “I’ve been trying you on your mobile. It goes straight through to voicemail.”
“I’m sorry. I lost the damn thing. I had kind of a bad night tonight. Ate in the hotel restaurant and crashed early. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
There was a pause. Then: “Are you… are you alone?”
Shit, he hadn’t even thought about her thinking something like that. “Yes, I’m alone. I was just tired. Really.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
He paused, feeling sad and torn. “The truth, darlin’? I do. But I have to leave tomorrow morning, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or even… if I’ll be back.”
There was another pause. “I see,” she said.
“And if you come over tonight, I just… I just don’t know.”
Another pause, longer this time. Then she said, “I want to. If you want me.”
He felt himself weakening. He knew he was being stupid. “Are you sure?” he said.
She was sure.
She got there a half hour later, and he was kissing her the second he had the door bolted behind her. And she was kissing him back with equal abandon. They pulled off each other’s clothes and threw them aside as though the garments were on fire, and he tried to take his time with her but she made it clear she didn’t want that, and she was wet when he touched her, so wet, and God he was glad she called. He still had condoms in the room from before he’d met her, and by the time the sun came up they’d used three, talking and dozing and laughing in between, the second round slower than the first and the third slower still, each of them wanting to make it linger because it was likely to be the last.
The alarm clock on her mobile phone woke them at eight. She showered and dressed and he pulled on a robe to see her to the door. He felt groggy and guilty and happy and sad. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what.
Chantrea paused by the door and touched his cheek. “I’m glad.”
He smiled. “I am, too.”
“You don’t look glad.”
“Well, I’m sad, too, I guess. I… I like you,
There were no more flights that night, but he’d catch something to somewhere in the morning. Best not to linger after a job. Especially one that had turned out like this. He’d meant it when he told Gant he didn’t think anyone would bother to retaliate on Gant’s behalf, but he didn’t see any upside to testing the theory, either. Besides, there was always the law to be careful about, too.
He thought about immediately checking into a more obscure local hotel, but then decided against it. Best not to do anything too out of the ordinary, like suddenly disappearing from Raffles. The staff knew him too well at this point. No, better to check out tomorrow morning like a normal person, earlier than anticipated by his reservation but nothing remarkable, either.
By the time he reached the hotel, he realized he was starving. He wolfed down a meal of beef
lok lak
and
amok trei
in the hotel restaurant, then went up to his room and took a long shower. That kid. It really bugged him. Like hell they would have paid him, even if he’d done what they’d hired him for. They were just using him. And Dox had almost killed him.
He thought about calling Chantrea. But he didn’t know what to say. He had to leave town tomorrow and he doubted he’d be back for a while, if ever.
He was still wired from everything that had happened, but by the time he was done with the shower, the parasympathetic backlash was kicking in and exhaustion washed over him. He got in bed and was asleep almost instantly.
The room phone woke him. He glanced over at the bedside clock and saw it was just past midnight. He wondered who the hell would be calling him. Who even knew he was here?
Then he realized—Chantrea. She must have been trying him on his mobile, but he’d dumped it. He almost didn’t pick up, but then he did.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” she said. “I’ve been trying you on your mobile. It goes straight through to voicemail.”
“I’m sorry. I lost the damn thing. I had kind of a bad night tonight. Ate in the hotel restaurant and crashed early. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
There was a pause. Then: “Are you… are you alone?”
Shit, he hadn’t even thought about her thinking something like that. “Yes, I’m alone. I was just tired. Really.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
He paused, feeling sad and torn. “The truth, darlin’? I do. But I have to leave tomorrow morning, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or even… if I’ll be back.”
There was another pause. “I see,” she said.
“And if you come over tonight, I just… I just don’t know.”
Another pause, longer this time. Then she said, “I want to. If you want me.”
He felt himself weakening. He knew he was being stupid. “Are you sure?” he said.
She was sure.
She got there a half hour later, and he was kissing her the second he had the door bolted behind her. And she was kissing him back with equal abandon. They pulled off each other’s clothes and threw them aside as though the garments were on fire, and he tried to take his time with her but she made it clear she didn’t want that, and she was wet when he touched her, so wet, and God he was glad she called. He still had condoms in the room from before he’d met her, and by the time the sun came up they’d used three, talking and dozing and laughing in between, the second round slower than the first and the third slower still, each of them wanting to make it linger because it was likely to be the last.
The alarm clock on her mobile phone woke them at eight. She showered and dressed and he pulled on a robe to see her to the door. He felt groggy and guilty and happy and sad. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what.
Chantrea paused by the door and touched his cheek. “I’m glad.”
He smiled. “I am, too.”
“You don’t look glad.”
“Well, I’m sad, too, I guess. I… I like you,
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