heard all the stories, but if he’s innocent, why won’t he come in? Why is he sending messages to you instead?”
“He doesn’t feel it’s safe yet. He’s already been the victim of a setup, and he doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Yeah, I understand that.” Sue bit her bottom lip. “What was the message? What are you supposed to do?”
“Contact you?”
“What? Why?”
“He believes the people who kidnapped you belong to the same group he’s trying to bring down, the same group that he believes is planning some kind of spectacular attack.”
Sue clenched the sheets in her fists. “Why does he think that?”
Hunter’s pulse jumped. Again, no surprised looks from Sue. “Something his informant told him. Why? What happened during that kidnapping? Did they ever give you any reason why they snatched you?”
“Wait.” She massaged her temple with two fingers. “I can’t take all this in right now, especially not huddled under the covers with no clothes on. I need a shower. I need breakfast. I need clothes.”
“The shower’s all yours. I can send your clothes out to the laundry right now, if you’re okay with eating room service wearing my sweats and T-shirt.” He took a step to the side and slid open the closet door. He reached in, his hand closing around the fluffy terrycloth of a hotel robe. “You can wear this into the bathroom.”
“Thanks.”
She uttered the word between clenched teeth, almost grudgingly, but he’d take it at this point. Her reception of him had been chillier than he’d expected, especially since she was the one who had ended their brief affair by leaving him in his hotel room with no note, no phone call, no explanation.
He placed the robe across her lap, dropping it quickly and jerking back. Being close to Sue again had proven to be more difficult than he’d expected when he first got Denver’s message. Undressing her last night and putting her to bed had been an exquisite torture. His hands lingering on her smooth flesh had screamed violation, so he’d made quick work of it.
“I’m going to bag your stuff and call housekeeping. I’ll put a rush on it, so your clothes will be ready by the time we finish breakfast.” He pinched the strap of her lacy bra between two fingers and held it up. “Anything need special attention or dry cleaning?”
“Everything is machine washable.” She flicked her fingers in the air. “Turn around, please.”
Not like he hadn’t already seen every inch of her beautiful body.
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned his back on her and stuffed her clothing into the hotel’s plastic bag for laundry, as she rustled behind him.
She slammed the bathroom door before he even rose from the floor with her bag of clothing dangling from his fingertips.
Blowing out a breath, he wedged a shoulder against the closet. He knew it wouldn’t be easy reconnecting with Sue after what had happened in Paris, but she couldn’t completely blame him for not contacting her, could she?
They’d met at a party of expats. He knew she was CIA, and she knew he was Delta Force on leave. They’d approached their relationship as a fling and had been enjoying each other’s company until she’d turned cold. He’d assumed at the time it was because she knew they’d have to end their Paris idyll once he got deployed, even though he’d been ready to ask her to wait for him.
Maybe it hadn’t been the wisest decision for him to get involved with someone so soon after separating from his wife, and maybe she got that vibe from him, although he hadn’t gotten around to telling her about his wife. He hadn’t wanted to open that can of worms until he’d gotten a signal from Sue that they had some kind of future. Once she’d shut that down, he’d shut down, too. He didn’t need any more women in his life who couldn’t accept his military career.
He pushed off the closet and grabbed the phone by the bed. He requested a laundry pickup and then room service, ordering eggs, bacon, the works. From what he’d seen of Sue’s body last night, she still must work out and burn calories at a ferocious rate. With Sue’s dedication to running, kickboxing and Krav Maga, he’d had no trouble imagining her escaping from a gaggle of hapless terrorists—even though others did.
He’d heard rumblings that Sue faked her kidnapping and miraculous escape but hadn’t heard about any motive. Why would she fake a kidnapping in Istanbul? Glory? Sue wasn’t like that. Didn’t need that. The woman he’d met in Paris kept her head down and got to work. No nonsense. No drama.
And that’s how she’d ended their affair.
The bathroom door swung open, and Sue poked her head into the room. “Can they do my clothes?”
“They haven’t picked up yet, but they assured me they could have them ready by noon. Is that okay?” He glanced at the clock by the tousled bed. “You don’t have to get to work?”
“I have a few days off. That’s why I was out last night with my friend.”
“When your friend left the bar with that guy, I thought maybe…” He shrugged.
“You thought I’d be leaving with someone, too?” She tucked a lock of wet hair beneath the towel wrapped around her head. “Queen of the one-night stands?”
“What we had wasn’t…”
He choked to a stop as she sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t want to discuss it.”
“Housekeeping.” The sharp rap at the door had him pivoting to answer it. He handed the bag to the woman. “I was told the clothes could be returned by noon.”
“That’s what I have on the order, sir.”
By the time he turned back to the room, Sue had grabbed what she needed from his bag and retreated to the bathroom.
He ran a hand across his mouth. He didn’t understand her anger at him. He hadn’t been the one who abruptly left Paris without a word, without even a note on the pillow.
She’d hurt him more than he’d cared to admit, but he’d chalked it up to being dumped and accepted it as a sign that he shouldn’t have gotten involved with someone so soon after Julia left.
Maybe Sue had expected him to run after her, pursue her, but he hadn’t had the energy at that time for games and he’d let her go without a fight—clearly his loss.
She emerged from the bathroom again, yanking up the waistband of a pair of gray sweats that swam on her.
“I can turn up the thermostat in the room if you just wanna wear the big T-shirt.”
“That’s all right. I don’t plan to run any marathons, or even leave the room.”
The next knock on the door brought breakfast, and Hunter added a tip and signed the check. He lifted the cover on the first plate. “Eggs, bacon, hash browns. Is that okay?”
“Toast?”
“Under this one.” He plucked a cover from a rack of toast. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
She’d exchanged her ire for a cold civility. He couldn’t decide which stung more. Over the years, he’d built up some ridiculous significance to their fling—Sue just set him straight.
He poured her a cup of coffee and nudged the cream and sugar toward her where she’d taken up a place across the table from him.
She dumped some cream into her coffee, picked up the cup and leveled a gaze at him over the rim. “Where did you sleep last night?”
His own coffee sloshed over the side of his cup. “The sofa.”
“That small thing?”
“My legs hung