Page 43 of Maddox

I’d left a message for Gray about the women I’d freed, hoping there was someone on the ground who could pick them up. If only I’d been able to save them.

“Can you open the door? Just a little? I feel like I’m suffocating,” she said from behind me.

I tossed her a look and relented, cracking the door open a couple of inches. Given the building was older, I doubted it had been converted to having air conditioning.

Charmaine was watching me, standing in the center of the small room with her arms crossed.

When it appeared we hadn’t been followed, I partially closed the thin drapes and turned to face her.

The moment dragged on for a full thirty seconds.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now, we sit and wait.”

“For what?”

“For the okay the plane has touched down. Hopefully by tomorrow night.”

She took a scattered breath and slowly glanced around the room. “Quaint.”

“It’s relatively safe. Right now, that’s the most important aspect.”

“What about food?”

I moved around her, heading into the tiny kitchen. Santiago had paid someone to stock the cabinets and refrigerator. A single note was attached to a bottle of local brew.

Saludos, mi amigo.

Compliments, my friend.

One of Santiago’s signatures. I’d always told him if he came to visit in the States, I’d repay him with a case of Krug champagne, the libation far exceeding my budget.

I pulled out a beer almost by habit.

“We should have plenty of rations. There should be at least a couple days’ worth of clothing as well. You’re welcome to take a shower.” That would allow me time to ensure we hadn’t been compromised.

She’d remained mostly quiet during the drive, staring out the windshield of the Blazer. The rush of adrenaline was long gone. She’d sleep for hours.

“It’s hot in here.”

“Yeah, I know. We can open some windows, but the blinds or curtains need to be kept mostly shut. We can turn the fans on too.” I grabbed a second beer and returned to the living room. As I held it out for her, I wasn’t surprised it took several seconds for her to respond. Grief and guilt were an explosive combination. I knew it well.

At this point, she was numb. That was needed for protection and for basic emotional survival.

As soon as she took the beer into her hand and our fingers touched like they’d done several times, she sucked in her breath. Against my better judgment, I couldn’t take my eyes off her or the way her long lashes floated across her flushed cheeks.

The fact I was aroused all over again seemed lost on her.

She lifted her head, finally removing her sunglasses, sliding the earpiece under the shirt’s neckline. I could tell she’d beencrying although I hadn’t heard her doing so. Her gaze seemed so hollow, so out of sorts where her eyes had been clear before.

Clear and full of venom.

She twisted the cap on the beer, never blinking as she took a sip. Only then did she take a step back, rolling the chilled bottle across her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed and even with filthy hair and a bruise on her face, my cock remained hard as a rock.

Not a single woman had attracted me since moving to Virginia. Not because there weren’t beautiful women in the area, but because I’d focused on business.

Half-truth.

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