by Marni Bates
Oh god.
Now I really needed to hurl.
Except . . . it didn’t make any sense. I had watched my glass of wine the whole time, and it wasn’t like there were that many other ways to secretly drug me.
Wesley rubbed his forehead as if he were fighting back a killer migraine. “Holy shit,” he murmured under his breath, almost like a benediction.
He’d better hope that the patron saint of wimps was feeling charitable toward him because I certainly wasn’t.
“We didn’t drug her. I swear, I’d never do something like that, and neither would Aaron or Joel.”
Aaron nodded dumbly, but let Wesley do all the talking. Probably because he didn’t want any more punches thrown in his direction.
“Look, we can’t afford any trouble during our merger with Rithisak Sovann. You may never have heard of him, but believe me, he’s a really big freaking deal.”
Houston stiffened, and I wasn’t sure if it was because Wesley had mentioned the drug dealer we were trying to track down or because of the handful of guys in dark suits heading toward us across the lobby, but either way he kept his voice low.
“I’m seeing her back to her room,” Houston informed Aaron and Wesley as he not-so-gently shoved me toward the exit. “Come near her again and I will make your life a living hell.”
“Ignore him, Wes,” I put in. “Suite seventeen. Anytime. Sightseeing.”
“Shut up, Chelsea.” Houston looked as deranged as the guy on his “No edge!” shirt as he picked up the pace. “For the love of everything holy, keep your mouth shut.”
“That’s—”
“Shut!”
I harrumphed, but with Houston’s arm pressing tightly against my stomach, that was about the extent of the protest I could manage. So I kept my silence all the way to the elevator, where he finally released me and jabbed angrily at the button for the sixth floor.
“Can I talk n—”
“No.”
Okay, that was taking his protector-y alpha-man stuff too far. I mean, the caveman approach back in the bar had been kinda nice, but I hadn’t expected it to last this long. Yanking me into a blisteringly hot kiss? Awesome. Treating me like a misbehaving toddler? Not so much.
And yet I couldn’t stop myself from hoping that as soon as we reached the privacy of our now-deserted hotel suite, he’d start kissing me again and we’d . . . pick up where we left off. Except when we got inside, Houston didn’t appear even remotely interested in reliving any part of our bar experience.
He just handed me a bottled water from the overpriced minibar as I slipped out of my heels.
“I thought you said you could take care of yourself.”
I stared at him in confusion. “I’m fine.”
“Oh right,” Houston snorted in disgust. “I forgot. Chelsea Halloway is always fine. Thugs open fire at her? She’s fine. Strangers spike her drink? No big deal. Well, guess what, princess? Everything is not fine!”
“They didn’t drug me, Houston.”
“Then do you want to explain to me why after one drink with them you nearly collapsed on the dance floor? Why your eyes are still dilated? If you have any handy explanations, I would really love to hear them right about now.”
“I had a panic attack, okay? My claustrophobia kicked in big-time, and I kind of freaked out. But I really am fine now.”
Houston raked a hand through his hair while I pretended not to think about how soft it had felt to touch. My fingers itched to toy with the strands by the nape of his neck again. “And the dilated pupils?”
“I don’t know!” I crossed my arms. “It was fairly dark in there. Maybe that affected them or something?”
He looked fairly unconvinced but seemed willing to temporarily table the issue. “You know that water will hydrate you a whole lot faster if you actually drink it.”
I took a large gulp just to keep the peace. “I thought you didn’t believe in using the minibar.”
“I also don’t believe in putting you in harm’s way. Looks like I’ve done all sorts of compromising lately.”
It was strange thinking of Houston as willing to bend on anything, especially since his words had such a sarcastic bite to them. But truthfully, he’d been a much better team player than I had.
It was way past time for me to reciprocate.
“Everything is going according to plan, Houston. In fact, it’s coming together even better than I could’ve hoped—your bar fight being the one notable exception. We know that Rithisak is right here! We’re halfway home already. We make the trade and get out. End of story.”
“Oh, is that all? I’m so glad everything I’ve ever said to you has fallen on deaf ears. Really. That’s just”—he punched his right fist into his left palm and winced at the jolt of pain—“freaking perfect.”
My anger spiked. Deaf ears? “Just because I don’t always agree with you doesn’t mean I don’t listen!”
“So you heard the part about this being a suicide mission, and you still made a scene in the bar? I’m sure the thugs that kicked the crap out of Neal really enjoyed your show, princess. I’m pretty sure at least one of them saw you with me. So congratulations: You just made their job a whole lot easier. Hell, you even shared our room number!”
And that’s when the very last bit of my happy he kissed me glow disappeared. Because what I’d mistaken for passion was nothing more than his anger and frustration over the situation. Actually, maybe there was a bit of panic thrown into the mix too. The fear that we would be identified at any moment seemed like strong motivation to me.
I had just been kidding myself into thinking it was something different. That he enjoyed the odd tug of attraction between us because we challenged each other. I had stupidly dared to hope that this amazing guy who had seen me at my very worst still accepted me.
Still wanted to kiss me.
But Houston had only planted one on me because he needed to shield my face from a thug. There had been no affection involved. No real attraction either. Just his way of fulfilling a promise to my dad that he probably continued regretting even as our tongues tangled.
And once again, I’d been too stupid to see it coming.
Stupid, stupid Chelsea.
I sucked in an unsteady breath before raising my chin in defiance. “My plan is working. And the last time I checked, disagreeing with you wasn’t a crime.”
“Want to know what is illegal, princess? Possession of narcotics. Drug trafficking. If anything goes wrong with your plan, those are the charges we could be facing!”
“What is this really about, Houston?” I asked quietly. The silence following his last outburst made my words resonate through the room. “I told you my plan. I didn’t hide it. You know I’m here to get Neal so . . . is this about the kiss?”
His face became an expressionless mask, but I refused to take the question back. I had to hear it from him that there was absolutely nothing between us. That it had all been in my head. That once again I’d recklessly developed feelings for yet another unattainable guy who wanted to be rid of me.
“Is this about the dancing?” I persisted. “Or the flirting? Or the fight? You’re acting like I deviated wildly from the plan, but I didn’t. I kept my word. So . . . what is this about?”
Houston’s green eyes bored into me, and for a second I thought my first instinct was right. That I’d finally found someone who didn’t just see the glossy image I tried so hard to present but the girl underneath that layer of swagger and makeup.
“Nothing.”
That one word from Houston landed like a direct blow. My rib cage ached fiercely as the pain in my heart radiated outward until it consumed my whole body.
I nodded slowly. “Nothing. Fine. When we get back to Oregon we can both pretend that you didn’t kiss me when you thought I was drugged.”
Houston looked away. “I didn’t think I had a whole lot of choices, Chelsea. I needed to get you out of there unseen. But . . . I’m sorry. It never should have
happened.”
The satisfaction I felt in being right about something didn’t even begin to soften the sharp sting of rejection.
“You won’t get any objection from me, cowboy. I thought we might be able to make it through this thing as friends but . . . well, so much for that plan. Now if you don’t mind, I have a suite to enjoy.”
Then I headed straight for the bathroom and tried to shower off the sticky remnants of beer and sweat along with the awful sensation that no matter how hard I scrubbed, I would never be clean.
Chapter 26
I couldn’t avoid Houston.
He kept handing me bottled water and insisting that I take it easy. It might have annoyed me how easily he was able to put aside our seven-minutes-in-heaven moment if he hadn’t been so nice in the immediate aftermath. He even handed me the television remote and didn’t snatch it back when I settled on some really terrible reality shows.
The kind that not even Jane would be willing to watch with me.
And when I started laughing at his snarky running commentary, he leaned back and seemed to honestly start enjoying himself as well.
If that was an act too, he had a much brighter future in Hollywood than I did.
Then again, Houston probably thought that our one measly kiss had messed with my head. On the list of things not to do with your favorite professor’s high school daughter, kissing her while she might be under the influence had to be ranked pretty high up there.
Telling her that the whole thing meant nothing, however . . . yeah, he didn’t seem to have any regrets on that score.
Still, if he wanted to pretend that we had shared nothing more than a few minutes in a crowded bar, he wouldn’t hear any complaints from me. I played it cool as the others began returning to the room because I had significantly bigger problems to occupy my time than deciphering a kiss-and-run college boy.
Just off the top of my head, oh right: I had a gun-toting drug tycoon to bribe.
“So I think my trip to the bar paid off. I’ve got a lead,” I announced when Ben finally strolled into the room, towel dangling around his neck, looking ridiculously good in his damp board shorts. Amy dropped the book she had borrowed from the book exchange downstairs.
“Oh, really?” Ben plopped down in the empty sofa chair right near where the book had landed. Without bothering even to glance at the cover, he handed it back to a blushing Amy, who quickly tucked it into the crook of her arm. I had no doubt the English major would have her nose buried back in the pages the instant our meeting was over.
Might as well get right to the point.
“Yeah, I went to the bar and found a great source. There’s a guy who—”
“Found a source?” Houston crossed his arms in annoyance. “That’s your euphemism for flirting with total strangers and then nearly collapsing in a crowd of people? Good to know.”
Ouch.
I kept my expression neutral. “I flirted. It worked. I’m fine. Get over it. And now we know that there are a bunch of lawyers here planning a merger with, drumroll please—Rithisak Sovann.”
Liz streaked gold nail polish on top of her already colorful manicure. “That’s more than I was able to get. Everything was pretty boring in the gym. Just your basic hotel full of tourists.” She blew delicately on her left hand before turning to Ben. “What about you?”
“I met several rather extraordinary travelers.” Ben’s quickfire smirk left little doubt that he’d been amply entertained by his time spent poolside. “I didn’t learn anything Neal-related though. Can we go back to Chelsea? I think we all need a more detailed account about this source of hers.”
I wasn’t sure if Ben realized that he was riling up his best friend, or if he was purposely overlooking that fact. Either way, Houston tensed.
But there was no reason I couldn’t talk about it.
Since “nothing” had happened, I had nothing to hide.
Although that didn’t mean I wanted Ben prying too closely into my private life, especially since it was so obviously going nowhere. And the last thing I needed was for someone to forget the whole What happens in Cambodia stays in Cambodia rule and mention my not-so-little panic attack to my dad. So I merely shot him my most cryptic half-smile.
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
And neither does a gentleman. I hoped Houston was picking up on the subtext written in my steely-eyed gaze. If he told anyone about the kiss, which meant exactly nothing to him, I’d have to kill him.
“Um, Chelsea? You still with us?” Amy waved her hand in front of my face, and I tried to play off my absentmindedness with a dreamy smile.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Wesley. I think you guys are going to like him. He’s very sweet. And he’s got this whole experienced-older-guy thing going for him.” I would have sighed gustily, but I didn’t want to oversell it.
I didn’t think any further embellishments were necessary either.
Houston’s gritted teeth made it pretty clear that he had no trouble understanding my message: Plenty of other fish in the sea for me to choose from. I don’t need you.
Maybe he would think of that the next time he felt obligated to stick his tongue in my mouth.
“Yeah, he’s a real keeper,” Houston growled. “Too bad you didn’t get his number. Such a shame. Oh well.”
“I’m pretty sure Wesley still wants to show me the temples here.” I winked at Amy just to see if I could make her blush. “We had a real, um . . . spiritual connection.”
Amy burst out laughing. “Of course you did, Chelsea. Why does that not surprise me at all?”
Maybe because I was an even better actress than most people thought.
“Weasel isn’t showing you anything.”
“I don’t think that’s your decision to make, cowboy.”
Liz coughed. “I thought you guys were finally getting along. Using your words. Playing nice. Do you want us to leave the room again? We can hang out in the lobby until you clear the air.”
“Or the pool,” Ben suggested. “There might be some potential sources of information that I’ve overlooked there.”
“Houston and I don’t have a problem.” Ben snickered, and I realized that once again my words were a little too close to Apollo 13. “Seriously. Everything’s fine, guys.”
Liz never glanced up from her fingernails. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”
“Well, looks can be deceiving. Isn’t that right, Houston?”
He stared at me in silence, and for one achingly long moment I imagined how it would feel if he actually shooed everyone out and agreed to discuss the Cambodian-sized spider in the room.
Good. It would feel so freaking good.
“Yeah,” he said at last. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Or not.
“There you have it: We agree on something. My date with Wesley probably won’t happen anyway, because none of us are going to be in Cambodia much longer. All we need to do is send Rithisak Sovann a message during the merger meeting, and we can be on the next flight out of here.”
Ben tilted his head and began whacking his ear as if it was waterlogged. “You want us to pass a note to a known drug lord in the middle of a private meeting? We’re not exactly in middle school anymore, Chelsea.”
“So what? It sounds like fun to me!” Amy’s enthusiastic smile never faltered.
“Oh, Amy. If that’s your idea of fun, we need to get you out more often. A lot more often.”
It was my idea and even I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“What? I liked passing notes in middle school. Except for the ones with the check boxes to find out if someone liked you back. Those were brutal. But since we don’t care if a drug lord likes us, I think it’ll be fun!” Amy said. “Plus I’m kind of curious to see what a merger looks like in real life. Probably not all that different from the search committee to find a new professor for the history department, but—”
“We get it.” I couldn’t resist teasing her a lit
tle. “You’re a geek extraordinaire with the credentials to prove it.”
Amy seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. “Well . . . yes.”
“So how do you feel about taking the lead with this one?”
Her eyes widened, and for one second I was sure she’d stutter out an apology. Something short and sweet along the lines of Thanks, but I’d much rather not. Amy was all Bambi eyes and friendship bracelets and needlepoint and romance novels—the last thing she wanted was to be the one in charge of contacting a drug lord.
Or so I thought until I saw steely determination underlying the softness. “What do I have to do?”
I grinned. “Just be yourself.”
The rest of us could take it from there.
Chapter 27
I half expected Amy to have changed her mind by the next morning.
But not only was she determined to take charge of the situation, she actually burst out laughing when I called it a “high risk” scenario that warranted backup and asked which action movie I was quoting now.
Apparently, I’d lost my intimidating edge.
I didn’t think that was a good thing. Maybe Amy’s resolve hadn’t weakened overnight, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t desperately searching for a better alternative. Something that didn’t involve any of my friends going within one hundred yards of Cambodia’s most notorious drug-dealing psychopath.
I never should have mentioned the idea in the first place. Not when there were so many ways for everything to go horribly wrong. Considering the way my simple bar excursion the night before had included both a full-blown panic attack and a brawl, I should have insisted that we sit tight. We knew for a fact that Rithisak Sovann was in the building. There was no reason we couldn’t wait for the team of reporters Jane insisted were en route to break the story.
I didn’t have to keep scheming.
Amy didn’t have to carry out one of my riskier plans.
Except I couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out for Neal in prison. Even if the promised reporters magically showed up within the next few of hours, their hands might still be tied. A group of American students abroad holing up with a Buddha full of drugs while they waited to prove their teacher’s innocence didn’t exactly scream Pulitzer Prize material. They needed actual news to cover. Something a lot more conclusive than our speculation that Rithisak Sovann was up to no good.