Page 50 of Strangers in Love

The others weren’t getting to eat sandwiches and stretch out on a soft, clean bed in clean clothes. The best I could hope was that they’d get something to eat in the morning, and no one would hurt them because of me.

The food I’d just eaten churned in my stomach, and for a moment, I worried that I might be sick right here and now. I closed my eyes and focused on taking slow, deep breaths until the nausea passed.

It wasn’t my fault that they were still being held prisoner. I’d tried to go back for them, but Eoin had literally carried me away. I’d never be able to find the building again on my own. I couldn’t even give a landmark that I could describe to a driver. Maybe I could figure out where the alley was, but that wouldn’t help me get to the others.

The best course of action would be for me to get to the plane tomorrow and call Freedom. If she didn’t know who to talk to, Mom and Dad would. They could make the necessary calls while I was in the air, and then after I landed, I’d take over and fulfill my promise to the others. They’d be home for the holidays.

The shower turned off, and I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t alone. Everything I’d felt about Eoin before came rushing back, overwhelming my guilt. I stood up, letting all the anger I’d pushed down finally come forward. He was the reason I hadn’t been able to save the others, picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder,andhe’d basically told the hotel staff that I was a prostitute.

For five days, I’d had to endure people treating me like I was a commodity to be used and ignored at the whim of whatever man was ‘in charge’ of me at the moment. Now, I could finally give one of those men a piece of my mind, and nothing was going to stop me.

As soon as the bathroom door opened, I started in on him. “What thehellare you playing about?!”

His eyes widened slightly, and I felt a thrill of pride that I’d caught him off-guard. I had a feeling that didn’t happen to him much.

“What?”

I pointed at him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’ve had it with you treating me like a child. You completely dismissed me telling you that there were other people who needed our help. Then you picked me up andcarriedme!” I was aware that my voice was rising, but I didn’t try to stop it. Letting all of this out felt good. “Carried me over your shoulder, no less! Like some Neanderthal clubbing a woman over the head and dragging her back to his cave because he doesn’t know how to use his words!”

An eyebrow went up, but he still didn’t interrupt me. Under other circumstances, I would have appreciated that in a man. At the moment, I just kept going.

“Then, you let everyone think I’m a prostitute!” I threw up my hands. “I’m all for women being free to do with their bodies as they choose, but that doesn’t mean I want people to think I’m one any more than I want them to think that I’m a minister or lobbyist or–”

“So, your top three ‘don’t-mistake-me-for’ jobs are prostitute, minister, and lobbyist?” He sounded more amused than annoyed, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “Kinda sounds like a bad joke.”

I scowled at him. “It’s not funny. Would you like it if I told peopleyouwere a…a male escort?”

He made a strange sound that I realized was him trying not to laugh. He managed to sound like he was choking on his own spit.

“Look, I get that you’re pissed at me for not letting you get yourself killed playing hero, but you didn’t hire me. Your sister did. Since she’s paying, her objective is my objective. Find you. Get your ass back to the U.S. I’m doing my job. And once you’re safe, I’ll look into helping the others.” He took two steps forward. “As for the other thing, well, it might not be the most flattering thing for your reputation, but it’ll keep you safe. Again, my job.”

“Safe?” I’d never really had much of a temper, and my little outburst was quickly burning out.

“Iran wasn’t going to just let a bunch of ex-military private contractors come into their country and start asking around about a missing socialite.”

My jaw dropped a little bit. Had he just called me asocialite?

“We’re undercover,” he continued. “We came in as a group of rich tourist assholes. And what’s something that pretty much all rich tourist assholes want when they go to another country?”

The lightbulb went off. “Sex.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“So, you were keeping up your cover.”

“And making sure they didn’t look too closely at you,” he added. “In areas where sex is seen as something to be ashamed of, people try not to see sex workers.”

His insight surprised me as much as his statement that he intended to try to help the others. Perhaps I’d jumped to conclusions about the sort of man he was. Shame flooded me, and I started to look down…and suddenly realized that he was wearing only a towel.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” I blurted out the question as heat rose to my cheeks.

“I forgot my clothes out here.” He walked over to a small pile of clothes sitting on top of the dresser.

“They have robes, you know.” I crossed my arms and tried not to look at him. Even though I’d been yelling at him without noticing, I now had a hard time not staring.

“I had to put the last one on when I got the room service,” he said as he picked up his clothes. “Couldn’t let them see the blood or dirt, and I didn’t want to answer the door naked.”

All of that made sense, but my brain had latched onto the last word of that sentence.

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