Page 99 of Fierce Pursuit

At some point, I must have fallen asleep.

A loud banging at the door jolted me awake.

I shot up. The bed was empty.

My pulse pounded, adrenaline slamming through my veins. My breath locked in my throat.

Fuck. She’d run.

She’d fucking run again.

Then I heard her voice from the other room.

“Should I answer that?”

The tension in my body loosened, just slightly.

She stayed.

“No,” I said, already moving toward the door. “Did you order more room service?”

“No.” She was flipping through the designer clothes that had been delivered late last night. Her fingers skimming across the expensive silks and cashmeres.

I approached the door, wishing I had my gun, and peered through the peephole.

One of Gregor’s men stood on the other side, a scowl set deep into his face. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’d recognize that glare anywhere.

He was carrying a duffel bag and was armed to the teeth, at least three guns that I could see.

I opened the door just enough, keeping my body in theway, my foot wedged against it in case he tried to force his way through.

He was friendly. But I didn’t know him well enough to let him near my girl.

The man said nothing as he handed me the duffel bag. Then, without a word, he drew two guns from his shoulder holster and passed them over, grips first.

Gregor had sent up supplies. And the bag Marina stowed in the storage locker.

I should have been pissed that he retrieved it without me. But all I felt was relief. If we had the bag, there was no reason to put Marina in danger.

“Were there any issues?” I asked.

“None.”

I gave a curt nod, dismissing him with a glance before shutting the door.

As I turned around, Marina was slipping into the bathroom, a few hangers in her grip. Pity. I had enjoyed having her in just that robe. Her body within reach, one pull of the terry cloth belt away from being mine again.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called through the door. “Just getting dressed.”

“I prefer you naked, but if that’s what you want to do.” I shrugged, smirking when I heard her suppress a laugh.

Getting dressed wasn’t the worst idea.

I went to the rack and picked a pair of slacks and a gray cashmere sweater to pull on. Comfortable. Warm. Functional. What more did clothing need to be? I told myself that was the only reason I chose it, not because I wondered if Marina liked the way I looked in cashmere.

I tucked the smaller Glock into the back of my waistband,keeping it ready. The other I set on the side table. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my leather holster. That was on the train, along with the gun that was no doubt already in security’s hands.

What was I going to do? Walk up to the station’s lost and found and ask if they happened to come across a firearm with the serial number filed off? Yeah. No, thank you.

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