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that’s the only way you could fall asleep at night, don’t tell me what’s silly. We all do what we have to do to get through our shit. If you’ve got to strip your bed, go for it.” He turned his focus back to the grungy screen. “Me? I’m good.”
    Her stomach took a dive as she imagined a young Gavin curled up on a bare, dirty mattress, fists balled at his sides, trying to sleep under those conditions. And here she was, poor little rich girl whining because the motel room he’d secured for them wasn’t up to her standard.
    She’d always tried to stay grounded, offering pro bono services for clients in need, and volunteering to serve on the board of several charities, but clearly her grandparents’ upbringing had affected her more than she’d realized. Resolved, she leaned back against the propped pillows and shifted until she found a comfortable position. Gavin was right. Even if there were bugs, and there probably weren’t, they weren’t going to kill her.
    Other things might. Like the guys with the bombs and whatnot…
    “So, have you heard from Owen?” she asked lightly, desperate for something to break the silence as panic surfaced again, even if it was the sound of her own voice. She already knew the answer to her question, though.
    Gavin didn’t tear his gaze from the soccer match on the tiny TV. “Not yet.”
    “Oh.” She blew out a sigh and looked around the room, starting in surprise when her now-short brown locks whipped around to bristle at her nose. That would take some getting used to.
    “Well, there was this CSI marathon I had been planning to watch tonight.” She peered down at her watch. “It started ten minutes ago.”
    “Hits too close to home now, don’t you think?” he asked drily, still staring at the TV.
    Visions of white chalk outlines on the avocado motel room carpet filled her head and she swallowed hard before responding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
    Maybe she hadn’t hidden her angst as well as she’d hoped, because a few seconds later he flicked off the TV and turned to face her.
    “Bad joke. I apologize for that. But I’ll tell you again, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
    The sincerity in his voice rang clear and true, and she turned to face him.
    “You’re safe with me.”
    Oddly enough, those four simply spoken words instantly calmed her. He was rough around the edges, but there was something solid and real about him that part of her found oddly soothing.
    She opened her mouth to thank him again when a loud, shrill chime rent the air. Gavin’s black brick of a phone buzzed along the nightstand between their beds, and in an instant, he reached out to answer it.
    “Hey.”
    She could hear a low male voice on the other end. Owen. Maybe he’d gotten in touch with her grandparents. Dread mixed with relief as she waited for the verdict. She’d feel more settled if they knew she was all right, but experience told her that talking to them was going to wind up making her feel worse than she already did somehow.
    “Yeah, okay.” Another interminable pause. “Good. Put them on.”
    Gavin held the phone out to her. “It’s for you. Your grandparents. Remember what I said, though.” He held her gaze. “No details, yeah?”
    She squared her shoulders and took the phone with a single nod, a quiver running through her when their fingers brushed. The man was like a machine. Even his hands were hard.
    She covered the receiver, rolled to her feet and nodded toward the door. “I’ll just be right outside, then.”
    “Are you crazy? You can’t go outside alone and unprotected. I don’t think we were followed, but I sure as hell have no plans to test that theory.”
    His face was as grim and unyielding as the rest of him, and she frowned. What was the point of chopping off all that hair? What was the point of ruining her natural color? What was the point of dressing like dance-club Barbie, or any of it, if she couldn’t even leave the room?