by Elle James
Gus did the same, entering the bedroom on the left. He walked out of that room and passed her as she emerged into the sitting room.
“Was the other room not satisfactory?” she asked, standing in the room’s doorway.
He entered the bedchamber on the right and walked across to the window. After opening the window and poking his head out, he closed it again. He came to a stop in front of her. “This room will do for you. The other has a trellis up to the window.”
“Why is that important?” Jane asked.
“It could either be a good way to escape or be attacked. Take your pick. I prefer to be the one manning that room with that drawback.”
“Are you afraid I will attempt an escape?” She snorted. “Where would I go? I have no money, no family that I know of and no job—again, that I know of.”
“You could be lying and setting us up to slit our throats in our sleep.”
“Or I could be telling the truth.” Jane heaved a heavy sigh. “Look, I don’t expect you to trust me. I’ll have to earn your trust, if I want it.”
He nodded. “That sums it up.”
“I found some jeans and a top that might fit you, and a nightgown.” Grace’s voice sounded from the door to the suite.
Jane spun to face her, heat climbing her neck into her cheeks. “Okay. Thank you.”
Grace’s eyes widened as she stared from Jane to Gus. “Did I interrupt something?”
Gus pushed past Jane. “Not at all. While you sort through clothes, I’ll go grab my stuff from my truck.” He paused on his way out, a frown furrowing his brow. “That is, if you’re okay being alone with her.”
Grace smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine. It will give us a chance to do some girl talk.”
Gus shot a glance at Jane, his eyes narrowing. “I’ll have Declan come check on you.”
“No need,” Grace assured him.
Jane bet her life Gus would have Declan come up anyway.
He left the room, albeit reluctantly.
“I trust my instincts. And my instincts say you won’t hurt me.” Grace handed Jane the stack of clothing she’d brought with her. “The jeans might be a little big on you. You’re so thin, compared to me.”
That’s what happens when you don’t get nourishing meals on a regular basis, Jane thought, but didn’t voice. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Anything, at this point, is better than nothing.”
“I also provided a bra and some panties. Everything is fresh and clean. We can shop tomorrow for things that will fit you better.” Grace tipped her head toward the bathroom. “There’s plenty of shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the cabinets in the bathroom. If you need anything else, just let me or Arnold know. We probably have some of just about everything in the storeroom.” She stood for a moment, her arms empty, her brow dipping. “It must be frightening not to know who you are.”
Jane wouldn’t say frightening. Waiting for the next beating in a dirty cell in Syria was what nightmares were made of. “More frustrating than frightening,” she admitted.
“If anyone can help you, it’s Charlie and Declan’s Defenders.” She smiled a friendly smile. “They helped me when my roommate went missing. And they helped my roommate through some troubling times. Trust them—they’ll do everything in their power to get you the answers you so desperately need.”
“Thank you,” Jane said. Grace seemed like a really nice person. Genuinely caring and trusting of these people who’d taken Jane in despite her questionable background. “And thank you for the clothes.”
Declan showed up in the doorway, a smile on his face.
Just as Jane expected. A smile curled her lips. Gus was predictable if nothing else.
“Are you finding everything you need?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks to Grace,” Jane said.
“Don’t worry,” Declan said. “We’re going to get to the bottom of our mystery guest.”
“I hope you don’t regret what you find,” Jane said. She really did like these people. What if they learned she was some kind of criminal with a checkered past? Or worse, a serial killer? Her breath caught in her throat and lodged there. What if she was a terrible person? Maybe she couldn’t remember because she didn’t like who she was. What if the men who’d beaten her did so because she’d deserved it?
* * *
GUS HAD HURRIED DOWNSTAIRS, found Declan and asked for someone to keep an eye on Jane while he gathered his things. Declan hadn’t hesitated, climbing the stairs two at a time to the third floor.
With Declan as backup, Gus hastened out to his truck, grabbed his gym bag and the clothes he’d brought to change into after the gala. The sooner he got out of the tuxedo, the better he’d feel. He hoped he hadn’t damaged the suit in the fight outside the Mayflower. The tuxedo rental company would probably charge full price to replace it.
He had no doubt Charlie would reimburse the cost, but she already did so much for him and the rest of the team.
Gus made his way back up the staircase to the third floor, feeling a sense of urgency to get back to the job of watching Jane.
When he arrived at the suite he’d share with her, he found Grace and Declan standing in the doorway.
“I’m sure whatever we find will be good. You seem too nice to be anything but good,” Grace assured the woman.
“Everyone who knew Ted Bundy thought he was a charming, nice man,” Gus said. “Except the girls he murdered.”
Grace gasped. “Gus, surely you don’t think Jane is another Ted Bundy.”
Jane’s gaze met his, her face devoid of expression, but her dark eyes widened slightly, as if in fear. That look lasted a split second and then was gone.
What was she afraid of? That he was too close to the truth, and too close to revealing the criminal she was? He couldn’t help but feel that she feared the truth about herself.
Was the woman who could take on two men at a time in a street fight really vulnerable? Was she being honest? Had she lost her memory?
Gus shook away the thought. He couldn’t let himself go soft on Jane. Until he knew everything there was to know about her, he couldn’t let his guard down for a minute. Too many of the people he cared about most could be at risk with her living amongst them. Charlie’s generosity toward a stranger could get them all in trouble.
Declan clapped a hand on Gus’s shoulder. “Holler if you need anything. We’re only a floor away.” He took Grace’s hand in his.
“That goes for you, too, Jane,” Grace said. “Have a good night’s sleep.”
Finally left alone, Gus tipped his head toward the bathroom. “You can go first in the shower.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I don’t think I normally wear high heels. If I ever wear them again, it’ll be too soon.” She gathered the pile of clothing Grace had brought and carried all of it into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Once alone in the suite, Gus did another pass through. Though there were two bedrooms, Gus wouldn’t be sleeping in his. He wouldn’t hear her movements. She could sneak out of the suite in the middle of the night without him knowing.
He tested the couch in the sitting room. It was firm, but manageable. Though a little short for his tall frame. It would have to do. He’d hang his feet over the edge if he had to.
While the shower was going, he pulled the comforter off the bed in his room and carried it and a pillow to the couch. The sitting room had a set of French doors leading out onto a small balcony. It was high enough up, it would be a stretch to think someone could jump to the ground and not end up with a broken neck. Still, if Jane decided to leave that way, she’d have to pass him on the couch. He’d have to sleep with one eye open.
He walked to the suite door and studied it. How would he keep her in the room? The couch was close enough he would know if she tried to go through the French doors. Being on the thi
rd floor, he was almost certain she wouldn’t attempt the drop.
At the very least, he needed a way to rig the door to make a noise if she tried to leave.
“Why don’t you just move the couch in front of the door and sleep there?”
Gus turned to find Jane standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a terrycloth robe cinched around her narrow waist.
“What if you try to go out the French doors?” he asked.
“Then I deserve the broken neck I would get from that foolish a move.” She carried the stack of clothing Grace had brought, the black dress folded neatly on top, the high-heeled shoes dangling from her fingertips.
Barefoot and makeup-free, her wet black hair slicked back from her forehead, she appeared to be not much older than a teenager. And the bruise around her eye was more pronounced.
Gus’s chest tightened. He knew how cruel some men in Arab countries could be toward women. Hell, toward anyone. If what she said was true and she’d escaped a place where she’d been beaten, she was a brave woman with a whole lot of gumption.
He wanted to admire her, but he couldn’t let himself. Not until they knew more about her. Mostly, he wanted to rip apart the men who’d beaten her.
Jane entered the bedroom and placed the clothing on top of the dresser.
She turned back to him. “Come on. You won’t get any rest if you’re worried about me taking off.” Jane crossed the sitting room to the couch. She gave it a good shove, but it didn’t move. “It’s heavier than it looks.”
Gus joined her at the other end and leaned all of his weight into it while she pulled it toward the door. It moved, but only a few inches at a time.
She gave him a crooked smile. “At least you’ll know I won’t be able to move it, if you’re not helping me.” Jane dug her bare feet into the carpet and leaned back, pulling at the arm.
Little by little, they shoved the couch toward the door.
“We can stop short of the door. As long as it’s close, I’ll hear if anyone tries to get in or out. I don’t want to create a fire hazard by blocking our only safe exit.”
“Nice of you to think of me.” Her lips twisted. “But for now, go ahead and move it up against the door.”
“Why?”
Jane propped her fists on her hips. “If you want to get a shower, you won’t feel comfortable leaving me alone in here by myself.”
She was right. He wanted that shower after wrestling with the attackers at the hotel. He leaned into the couch and, with Jane’s help, shoved it against the door.
“And you can leave the door to the bathroom open. I’ll even sit on the couch so you can keep an eye on me.” Jane raised both hands, palms up. “See? I’m trying to make it easy for you.”
His eyes narrowed.
Jane rolled her eyes. “I know. You still don’t trust me any further than you can throw me.”
His lips twitched. “I could probably throw you pretty far. You don’t look like you weigh very much.”
“You don’t get much to eat when you’re held captive by Syrians who don’t like you very much.” The words came out like a statement of fact. She didn’t appear to be fishing for pity.
Still, his gut clenched. Jane was too thin. She could use a hamburger a day for the next month to put some meat back on her bones.
Gus rummaged in his gym bag for shorts, ready to get the hell out of the fancy clothes and into something less constricting. He glanced at Jane.
Jane held up a hand. “I do so solemnly swear to be right here when you get out of your shower.” Then she sat on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her.
She’d been beautiful in the figure-hugging black dress, but seeing her in the white robe, her dark hair a stark contrast to the white terrycloth, she took his breath away.
Whoa, dude, he counseled himself. He couldn’t get all wrapped up in this woman. Even if she awakened in him a desire he hadn’t felt toward a woman in a long time.
He hurried into the bathroom and closed the door just enough to allow him to strip with a little privacy, but open enough he could look out and check to see she was as she said she’d be...on the couch.
Once naked, he peered around the edge of the door.
Jane smiled and waved. “Still here.”
Gus stepped in the shower, turning on the water to a lukewarm setting. He was far too aware of his nakedness with a half-open door the only thing standing between him and the woman who’d taken on two attackers without breaking a fingernail. She wasn’t wearing much beneath the robe and she had long, sexy legs that seemed to go on forever, disappearing beneath the robe’s hem.
Once beneath the spray, he turned the water cooler, hoping to chill the rise of heat in his loins.
Jane was the job. Nothing else.
Hell, her name wasn’t even Jane. What was it? He focused on a name that suited her to keep from thinking about those long, bare legs.
Salina? No. Jezebel? Maybe. She talked all innocent, but he suspected she had a fire burning deep inside. He could imagine how passionate she’d be in bed. A fierce fighter, she had to be no less fierce in bed.
And there he was back to thinking about her in a purely unprofessional manner. He turned the water cooler. By now it was so cold, gooseflesh rose on his skin.
In quick, efficient movements, he washed his hair and body and switched off the cold water. When he reached for the towel, he realized he’d forgotten to get one out of the cabinet.
A hand reached around the curtain extending a towel toward him. “Take it,” Jane’s voice said from the other side.
He snatched the towel from her and held it low in front of him. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
She stood on the other side of the opaque white curtain, her body silhouetted in hazy gray. “Getting a towel for you. When I got into the shower, I forgot a towel and had to get out to get one. I figured you might have done the same. I was right?”
“Yes,” he said, hating to admit it. “But I could have gotten it myself.”
“With the door open?” She snorted softly. “I figured you were a little more modest than some.”
He wrapped the towel around his waist, praying he wouldn’t make a tent out of it. Then he flung the curtain aside. “Thank you.”
She stepped back, her gaze running the length of him from head to toe. “Glad I could help.” Her lips curled and she pointed at his torso, just about his belly button. “You missed a spot.” Then she turned and left the bathroom and Gus, getting aroused to the point his towel tented.
Sweet hell, the woman was going to make him crazy. Thankfully, she’d sleep in the bedroom. The couch would be sufficiently uncomfortable to take his mind off the woman in the other room.
He closed the door just enough she couldn’t see him. Gus slipped into the shorts and opened the door again.
Jane wasn’t on the couch where she’d been when he’d gotten into the shower.
Gus’s heartbeat galloped ahead. The couch was still in front of the door where he’d left it and the French doors were closed.
“I’m in the bedroom, in case you’re wondering,” Jane called out.
The breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding whooshed out of his lungs and he remembered to draw in a fresh one.
She leaned out the door, her smile twisted. “You thought I’d left, didn’t you?”
By not answering, he gave her his answer.
Jane shook her head. “I told you, I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m homeless and I can’t even get a job because I don’t have an identity. No social security number, no driver’s license and no car. How am I supposed to live?”
“You made it this far in two weeks from Syria?”
She pressed a hand to her flat belly. “Hungry, stealing to survive and hitchhiking on a container ship isn’t my idea of a good time. If the authori
ties randomly stop me, I’ll go straight to jail. They might even deport me, claiming I’m an illegal alien. Hell, I might be.” She sighed heavily. “So, you see, I’m staying here until I figure out who the hell I am. I won’t hurt Charlie or anyone working for her. Why would I bite the hand that’s feeding me?”
Gus held up his hands. “Okay. I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt for now. But I’m still sleeping on the couch.”
Jane shrugged. “It’s your back. I can’t tell you the last time I slept in a real bed.” She yawned, pressing a hand over her mouth. “I’m looking forward to clean sheets and a comforter to keep me warm. You do what you have to. I’m going to bed.” She turned away, slipped the robe from her shoulders and laid it on the end of the bed.
The nightgown she wore was icy blue and barely covered her bottom. She pulled back the comforter and sheet and slipped into the bed. “Good night, Gus. I really do hope you sleep well. I plan on it.” Then she pulled the comforter up to her neck and reached over to turn off the light.
For a long moment, Gus stared at the darkened room.
“Go to sleep, Gus,” she called out softly.
Gus moved the couch a little away from the door, enough they could get out if needed, but not enough Jane could slip by without him noticing. Then he stretched out on the comforter, his gaze on the bedroom door.
He lay awake for a long time, a dozen questions racing through his mind, all centering on the woman in the other room. Frustrated that he didn’t have any more answers than he did, he could only imagine how Jane felt, not knowing who she was.
If she really didn’t know.
Chapter Six
When Jane lay on the soft bed, in the clean sheets, with her head snuggled against a feather pillow, she fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes, thinking heaven couldn’t be more comfortable.
How long she slept, she couldn’t tell. But the heaven she’d fallen asleep in soon turned to hell. She was back in the cell in Syria, waiting for the next visit from the men who’d beaten her.