Eliza Jane - In Too Deep

The stairs are harder to navigate this time, my legs are wobbly, and I’m still struggling for air. Without Colt helping me, I’d be jelly on the floor.

When we reach our room, Colt sits me down on the couch while he storms through the hotel room, grabbing bags, shoving my laptop into its case, and throwing all the bags over his shoulder. Then he’s hauling me to my feet again.

The trip downstairs is a blur, but somehow we reach the car. Colt opens my door and directs me onto the seat, buckling my seat belt around me like I’m a child. Only once I’m in the safety and silence of his car again do I let myself analyze what’s just happened. Without meaning to, I begin to cry. Fat, soggy tears fall down my cheeks and I struggle to breath. I’m not cut out for this. I can’t handle field work if this is what’s it going to be like. Lars could’ve had a gun. I could’ve been paired with someone less capable than Colt. And then what would’ve happened?

Colt glances over. “Are you okay?”

I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “No I’m not okay. We just got attacked!”

“I’m taking you back to the school. Assignment’s over.”

I let out a muffled sob, despite my best attempt to hold it in.

“Fuck!” Colt slams his palm against the steering wheel.

The noise startles me and I jerk in my seat. The movement sends a spike of pain through my side. Ow. I clutch at my ribs.

“Taylor, you’re shaking.” His voice is soft, worried.

He’s right. My teeth are chattering, despite the heat outside and my knees are trembling. “I’m…I’ll be okay…”

“You’re in shock.” He puts his hand on my knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll get us out of Ohio, then we’ll stop for the night somewhere. We’ll get some sugar in your system and lay you down to rest. Just hang in there for me.”

I don’t argue. I feel safe with Colt, I do, but today’s been more than I can handle. I lean my head back against the head rest, and close my eyes. 

I pull into the motel, letting the car roll to a stop so I don’t wake Taylor. No luck. Her eyes blink open, and she looks up at me. I don’t think she’d realized when she drifted off to sleep that her head was resting in my lap. I hadn’t minded at all.

“Sorry.” She sits up and looks around out the windows.

We’re parked beside a cheap one-story motel. The sounds from the highway hum nearby.

“This okay with you?”

She doesn’t speak, but manages a nod.

It’s nothing like the luxury hotel we stayed in last night, but after what happened there, that’s fine with me.

“Wait here.” I get out of the car, locking the doors behind me, and head into the motel’s office, leaving Taylor safely inside the car.

I return a minute later, dangling a room key from my little finger. I open Taylor’s car door, and help her out, using extra care around her ribs. With the way she’s moving, I can tell they’re already bruised from Lars’ kick.

“Can you stand here for a second?”

She nods.

I retrieve our bags from the backseat, slinging them over one shoulder, then help Taylor walk, placing one arm around her waist. I lead her to the door of our room, only a few paces away from the car.

When the door swings open, I notice instantly there is only one bed. But Taylor’s breath catches, and the fact that she’s in pain reminds me we have more pressing issues. I’ll deal with the sleeping arrangements later.

I sit her down on the edge of the bed. Once she’s sitting, I toss our bags on the chair beside the door, then I kneel on the floor in front of her. She watches me untie her shoes laces. I slip her shoes off one at a time, then peel off her socks. She peers down at me with those big blue eyes, her chest still heaving.

I wanted to punish that bastard the second his eyes fell on her. And after he kicked her, I wanted to destroy him, but I couldn’t hang around. I’d had to get her out of there. Out of danger.

Her feet dangle from the edge of the bed, and her toes are painted pink.

“Let me see,” I say softly.

She nods her approval.

I gingerly lift her shirt, and hesitate. “Do you mind?”

She shakes her head.

I pull the shirt over her head, leaving her sitting there in just a lacy pink bra, which I desperately try not to stare at. I trace my fingertips along her side, pressing slightly at the ribs that are already showing signs of bruising.

At my touch, she winces and grips the comforter in her fists.

“Here?” I ask, tracing the spot again, more carefully this time.

She nods.

I don’t allow myself to look at her the way I want to drink her in. But I still notice more than I should. Her skin is incredibly soft, she has three tiny freckles dotting her left shoulder and her belly button is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I refocus on her as though she is a patient. Nothing more. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s cracked. You’re not having trouble breathing, are you?”

She tries a deep breath, her chest raising and falling in the most delicious way. “Seems okay.”

“Your ribs are bruised, but not broken. You’ll be sore for a few days, but you should heal fine.” I continue caressing her sides and stomach, until well after I’m satisfied there’s no real damage. Then I get up and toss her shirt on the bed beside her. “I’ll run you a warm bath. That should help relax your muscles.”

“Colt.” She grabs my hand and squeezes, hard, stopping me in my tracks. “Thank you.”

I nod once, then head into the bathroom.

I need the escape, and the safety of another room – with a locking door – to keep me away from her. It’s my fault she’s sitting out there on that bed in this cheap motel room, beaten and bruised and completely shaken up. What the fuck had I been thinking? What had McAllister been thinking? She wasn’t ready for this. I’d be surprised if she didn’t call her parents and get herself sent home the moment we got back.

I turn on the faucet in the bathtub, not wanting Taylor to wonder what I’m doing when she doesn’t hear the water running. Once the water’s warmed and filling the tub, I lean against the sink and splash cool water on my face, needing to get a hold of myself. 

Once Colt’s in the bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror. I look pale and stunned. My eyes are wide with shock. I take stock of my injuries, looking over my body in the mirror. My head hurts. My ribs are tender where Lars slammed into me, but mostly I’m shaken up. The sound of water running distracts me and I follow Colt into the bathroom.

Despite the rundown motel, the bathroom is clean and spacious with gleaming white tiles. Colt’s filled the tub and even used one of the little bottles of body wash to make bubbles. Heat vapors drift lazily from the steaming water and the scent of mint and lilac invite me forward.

I lean against the counter, watching Colt. I remember the way he jumped into action, his quick thinking, the way he tried to throw Lars off by acting like we were a couple locked out of our room, then saving me from the path of Lars’ hits. He doesn’t appear injured at all, no bruising, no blood. His hair is tousled as ever. He still looks gorgeous and in complete control, despite having just been in a fight.

He shuts off the water of the now filled tub and leans causally against the tiled wall, a slow, lazy smile on his lips as he inspects me. With the water turned off, it’s quiet and our breathing now seems amplified in the small space.

I look down at my fingers, suddenly self-conscious in just my bra, jeans and bare feet.

Colt comes up behind me, running his fingers softly along my injured side again. My breath catches, but I’m not sure if it’s from the ache I feel in my side or the tenderness in his touch. Our eyes meet in the mirror. His look is caring, worried. It’s a look I haven’t seen on him before.

I turn and face him, and hazel eyes sear into mine.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there. I should have never let him get that close to you.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left the port open so he could track us. I know better than that.”

He places a finger over my lips. “This was not your fault. It was your first field assignment. McAllister was wrong to send you out here so early.”

I swallow. His finger is still resting on my lips. He lets it fall away, almost reluctantly, but he doesn’t step back. Our bodies are separated by just inches.