“What?” they chorused.
“The messages from Samson. They’re love notes. Displays of his twisted affection,” I said, their faces bearing identical expressions of confusion. Growing frustrated when they didn’t grasp what I was saying, I added “He’s leaving the choicest pieces of the kill as offerings. He thinks he’s courting me.”
“But he tried to kill you,” Holbrook said, disgust and doubt warring on his face.
“And I survived. By some cruel hand of fate, I survived to become what he is. Maybe he thinks that means I’m strong and worthy of his attention, that we’re destined to be together. I don’t know. I don’t understand the twisted workings of his mind, and I don’t want to. Whatever the reason, he now thinks I’m a suitable mate, and he’s trying to express his intentions by leaving the most succulent, nourishing pieces of the kill for me.”
I hadn’t given much thought to it until that moment, but as the words poured from my lips in an unstoppable deluge they rang with truth. Surprisingly, the revelation didn’t make me sick or bring tears to my eyes. Instead an icy cold anger settled heavily in my gut, lending a new stiffness to my spine and the set of my jaw.
“Are you sure?” Santos asked, his face looking a little paler than before.
“Not a hundred percent, no,” I replied with a shrug. “But I’m pretty damned sure I’m right.”
Chapter 13
THE HOLIDAY INN a few blocks from FBI headquarters wasn’t the Ritz by any means, but it was a hell of a lot better than the Knotty Pine. Dull winter sunlight filtered in through the glass ceiling of the hotel’s atrium, making the lobby appear as cold and dreary as the weather outside. I missed my cabin with the fire blazing in the fireplace and Loki curled around my feet.
Here, there were no cheery staff to check us in. It was all business as Holbrook and our Men in Black entourage whisked me through the lobby to the elevators. We rode up to the fourteenth floor, my charming bodyguards, Collins and Hill, flanking me, and Holbrook standing in front. The elevator ride would have been silent if it weren’t for Loki deciding to serenade us all the way, his yowls of discontent growing louder by the second. He was starting to resent being crammed into the crate that, until now, had only been used when it was time for his annual shots.
I felt my bodyguards tense on either side of me, their stoic faces tightening almost imperceptibly as Loki’s outburst grew in volume and pitch. I caught Holbrook’s sly grin in the mirrored doors of the elevator a moment before we stopped and the door slid open. He’d at least been acquainted with Loki’s vocal skills before.
“You’re in 1409,” Holbrook said fishing a plastic keycard out of his front pocket, drawing my eyes to the front of his slacks. “And I’m right next door in 1411,” he added, the hint of laughter in his voice drawing my gaze up to meet his. The corner of his mouth tilted up in the beginnings of a smirk, the skin around his eyes crinkling with silent laughter.
Busted.
Heat suffused my cheeks, and I dropped my gaze to the scuffed toes of my boots. “Great,” I said, pushing past him into the room as soon as the little light on the lock flashed green.
“There’ll be agents in the room on the other side of you, and some stationed at the elevators and stairs. We have the floor to ourselves.”
“Sounds like a party,” I said as I set Loki’s carrier next to the bed by the window, opening the little metal door before he began to protest again.
The culmination of the day’s events began to settle in my shoulders, weighing me down, and I flopped back on the bed with a sigh. I welcomed the weight of my furry companion as he climbed into my lap, rubbing his face along the back of my hand until I acquiesced and scratched beneath his chin. Sinking down to his haunches a deep purr rumbled out from his chest, echoing through my abdomen.
Closing my eyes, I could, for a moment, almost forget the mess that my life had become. I could pretend that the endless noise of traffic on the street below was the wind moving through the trees outside my bedroom window.
“Do you need anything?” Holbrook asked, the gentle tone of his voice tearing through my flimsy fantasy like a knife rending gossamer threads.
“A large pizza and a six-pack of beer,” I joked, cracking my eyes open just enough to watch him, the long hours of the last few days darkening the skin beneath his eyes, but doing little else to detract from his handsomeness.
“I’m on it,” he replied with a smile. “Buzz me if you need anything.”