Not Like He Seemed by Ava Strong

Author:Ava Strong [Strong, Ava]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ava Strong
Published: 2021-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A quiet tapping woke Ilse, and she blearily lifted her head from the lumpy hotel pillow. She winced, blinking against the light streaming through the window which she'd left cracked. Something about completely closed windows, especially in unfamiliar places, made it difficult to fall asleep.

The small doll rested at the foot of the bed where it appeared like she'd thrown it sometime in the night. The tapping sound returned, increasing in frequency, followed by a quickly muttered voice from out in the hall. Slowly, Ilse lifted her head from the pillow, throwing her bare feet over the edge of the mattress.

The tapping grew even louder, more urgent. She frowned, reaching quickly for her shirt, which she'd left draped over the bedside lamp. Her pants were on the other side of the room, neatly folded in front of the mirror.

Pulling on her shirt, she got slowly to her feet.

The knocking now echoed through the room. “Open up!” a voice said, urgently. Ilse hesitated, glancing towards her discarded sweatpants. Her bare legs were chilly, and a faint breeze drifted through the open window. Was something wrong?

She took a half step towards her sweatpants, but, as the urgency of the knocking increased, still half-conscious, she re-routed towards the door, unlocked it, and eased it open, peering through the crack out into the hall.

Agent Sawyer was standing there, his green eyes—the same color as hers, though a bit darker, more like deep forest foliage than foaming seas—peered down at her.

“Can I come in?” he said, quickly.

Ilse hesitated, shifting so her half-naked form was hidden behind the door.

“I've been up all night,” he said, an eager note to his tone. “And I think I have something.”

Then, seemingly ignorant of her reluctance, he pushed open the door with his shoulder, waving his phone about which he clasped in both hands like some prized possession.

“Hang on,” Ilse tried to protest, but the door opened enough that Sawyer froze in the threshold, swallowing once as he realized she was standing in her underwear.

“I—I,” he stammered, staring at her.

“Just give me a second,” she said, wincing in embarrassment. She began to turn, hurrying over towards her discarded sweatpants. She quickly slipped them on and turned back to find Sawyer staring at the wall, his cheeks the color of a fire hydrant.

She watched him for a moment as he stammered a quick apology towards the petunia wallpaper, both his hands held up as if in surrender. She waited, one hand on her hip, studying his profile; he wasn't wearing a baseball cap now, and his sandy hair jutted every which way. He wore the same buttoned flannel shirt and jeans he'd had on the day before, like some sort of farmhand. When he'd first entered, he'd smelled like cheap hotel coffee and sawdust.

“I'm decent,” she said as if lifting some sort of spell.

He cleared his throat, glancing sidelong with a quick tilt of his eyes first, as if checking the coast was clear, before turning. “I-I didn't see anything,” he said, stammering.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.