Hey!

I know it's a short one, but at least I'm getting more
done, right? <hopeful grin>

“It’s late.” Trent skidded off the bed so fast he
nearly left tracks. “How about we get dressed then
find something to eat and decide what to do from
there?” From where he stood, he jerked his head
toward the bathroom. “I’ll let you have the shower
first.”


He watched her slowly rise from the bed and sluggishly
make her way into the bathroom. And called himself
ten times a fool. Not for wanting her. Any man would
do that. But for letting her go first. If anyone
needed a shower – an icy cold arctic shower – it was
he.


Once the door between them was closed, Trent breathed
a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. The sound of
running water bombarded him with another memory of
Houston and images of Amy naked beneath the droplets.


He threw back his head and groaned, not caring how
loud it was, and then shook his head to clear it. To
take his mind off of where it shouldn’t be, he walked
toward the window. Sunlight streamed in through the
gap where the two curtains didn’t quite meet in the
middle. It was late. He peered around the edge
before pulling the musty drapery back with one hand
and looked at the position of the sun in the sky.


Sheesh! It was late! His head whipped around to the
clock. Yep. Just after eleven-thirty. No wonder his
stomach was rumbling. If Amy would hurry up, they
could go get something to eat. With any luck, they
hadn’t missed the checkout time. Not that he was
terribly anxious to leave the relative anonymity of
this hotel room. But if he wanted to solve this
puzzle – and he did – then they needed to get out of
here. He couldn’t very well be a detective from the
sidelines.

His thoughts were interrupted by a bump from the
bathroom. That was followed by a hard thump.

Concerned, he knocked on the door.


“Amy?”

No answer.

He rapped again, harder this time. “Amy?”

Her voice was reedy, weak. “What?”

“Are you all right?”

There was a garbled, “I’m fine,” and then the distinct
sound of retching.

Great. Trent put a hand to his forehead and massaged
his temples. The noise wasn’t doing his empty stomach
any good, but he swallowed back the repulsion reflex
with a grim smile. Poor Amy. It sounded like she was
really going through the wringer. And it was just
like her to be stubborn, even in that sad state.
Mentally, he did a quick inventory of the withdrawal
symptoms the doctor had warned him he might see. Yep,
nausea was one of them.

He waited until the retching sounds stopped, and then
he softly tapped again. “Can I get you anything?” he
asked, though he knew what the answer would be.

“No, I’m fine,” came the reply, still weak, but firm.

He blew out another sigh; more exasperated this time,
but resigned. He couldn’t force assistance on her.
He’d learned that lesson a long time ago. Whenever
she came out, then he’d do whatever he could to help.


Trent waited longer that he thought he would. Nearly
longer than he thought he could. In fact, he’d almost
been ready to kick down the door when it opened
slowly, just a crack. Then swung a few inches more,
enough for him to get a look at the woman holding
herself up between the door and the jamb. Oh boy.
She didn’t look good. She didn’t look good at all.

Instinctively, his arms reached out to support her as
she moved a bit further into the room. “Are you
okay?”

She neither leaned into him nor made eye contact. Her
eyes stayed fixed on the bed, and her feet shuffled
determinedly toward it. “I don’t feel so good,” she
mumbled.

Trent gave her a once over. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He had no choice but to move with her, he wasn’t sure
if she could make it on her own, despite her apparent
resolve. Mentally, he ran through their options. And
came up with only one.

It didn’t look like they’d be leaving here just yet.
Amy needed more time to rest, to recover from whatever
drug addiction she’d been under. He’d have to make
arrangements to stay one more night. That shouldn’t
be a problem. As long as no one found out where they
were.

His stomach rumbled again, reminding him that he
hadn’t eaten yet today. He’d have to make this fast.
They were almost to the bed. “Uh…are you hungry?”

Amy shook her head.

Not the answer he was hoping for. Then again, in her
current state, he couldn’t blame her. He probably
wouldn’t be hungry either. But he was. And that was
the problem.

They stopped right beside the bed. When she moved to
sink onto it, he held her arm firmly and propped her
up. “Okay, listen. I know you want to rest, and you
need to. But I need to pick up some supplies and I
don’t want to leave you here by yourself. Do you
think you can make it out to the car?”

Her eyes closed and she swayed back and forth a couple
times. Finally, she nodded.

“Great,” Trent said more to himself than to her, and
steered her toward the door.

After painstakingly picking their way across the room
and pausing at the door so he could make sure the
coast was clear, they were finally seated in his car.
He stopped at the front desk first, briefly leaving
Amy alone in the car. Like he’d surmised, extending
their stay another night had been simple. Then, with
directions from the same old man who’d been behind the
counter last night, he headed off in search of food.

A local convenience store was easy to find. Lucky for
him, there was a food counter inside along with a
limited grocery selection. Once again, he left Amy
alone in the car. He had the key. Besides, she was
in no shape to run, but if she’d tried, he could
easily nab her before she got too far. She had no
cell phone or other way of contacting anyone and,
relatively speaking, he could keep a pretty good eye
on her through the store’s large front windows.

It didn’t take him long to make his selections and get
back outside, then head down the road. The top was up
though the day was sunny. No need to give anyone a
better view than absolutely necessary. As he sped
down the road, frequently glancing in his rear and
side view mirrors, Trent spared a glance at Amy in the
passenger seat.

She’d barely spoken this morning. And not a word
since she’d come out of the bathroom. Nothing about
how they’d woken up in each other’s arms – he with a
rock hard hammer under the sheets. Nothing about the
episode last night that had prompted him to take her
in his arms in the first place. She hadn’t even
bothered to ask what their plans were for the day, or
where they were going, or what was in the bags he’d
carried out to the car, or anything. Didn’t she even
care any more?


=====
Kat Hillcrest

Sons of Thunder Fan Fiction Treasury
http://sot_treasury.tripod.com

Thunder Chronicles
http://www.geocities.com/thunderchronicles




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