“We have, what, four nights left here?” I ask, trying and failing to run my fingers through my hair. It's too matted and curly to do much with at this point. Spencer helps me untangle myself from my own hair and gives my hand a squeeze. “I can't even imagine.”
“Five. Not that it matters,” Church supplies, and the smooth, easy sound of his voice gives me the chills. “These people, whoever they are, very clearly have an agenda they're willing to carry out, regardless of locale.”
“Where is Mr. Dave, Church?” I ask, and he frowns at me, shaking his head slightly.
“I don't know. I removed the knife and left him there to go after you. You were being chased, Charlotte.” Church pushes off the wall and moves over to me. Despite an initial spark of fear, I hold my ground and look up at him. He gets close, close enough that I can smell that signature lilac and rosemary scent of his, the scent we share because we use the same damn shampoo. Even when I left Adamson to head back to Santa Cruz, I took a bunch with me, just so I could keep smelling it.
I told myself it was because I just like the damn stuff, and it's luxe as hell, something I definitely couldn't afford on my own … but maybe it was because it made me think of him? Gah, I’m such a girly, romance-obsessed weirdo! If I ever get to that point where I’m smelling sweaty t-shirts, so help me …
“I didn't stab the librarian. If I did, you would know. I would tell you that I'd done it, and why I did it.” Church reaches up and pushes a loose curl from my forehead. It might be sexy, if my hair wasn't all gross and tangled from rolling around in my sleep. “I'm not sure where he went, but he very clearly came in to tell me something important. I think he's working with Lionel Murphy.”
“That son of a bitch,” Ranger grumbles under his breath. Before we questioned Micah, I gave a quick rundown of my side of the story. Everyone is now officially filled in on all the goings-on from this morning. The first thing the twins and Spencer suggested was that we ‘kick his ass’, but beating up a teacher is sort of worst case scenario stuff.
“You think Mr. Dave is a good guy?” I ask as Church runs his long fingers down the side of my face, and then gently tucks his fingertips beneath my chin. It's a firm but gentle command to look up at him, and even though my first response is to be ornery and turn away with a scowl, I end up looking into his eyes regardless.
“Neutral, maybe. The only good guys are standing in this room. No matter how the evidence looks, do you believe that?” I start to respond, but Church cuts me off by leaning down and capturing my lips in a torturous kiss that's equal parts reassuring and terrifying.
The sweet, sharp taste of danger lingers on his lips, but I find myself falling for it anyway. A great kiss does not a trustworthy person make, and yet …
“What are we going to do if we get stuck here for five nights?” I ask instead, because even if we’re right, and the dead student is an Adamson boy who just happens to be missing, that doesn't mean my father or the police will believe us. I mean, why should they? It sounds far-fetched, like some weird Japanese anime episode. Murder at the Oishii Onsen Lodge, Part I.
I shiver as Church steps away from me, trying not to catch the gazes of any of the other guys. Kissing one in front of the others is just … well, weird. Not sure I'll ever get used to it. Although I wish this was a thing, a group relationship. I mean polyamory is real, so why not?
Only, wouldn't polyamory imply they could date other girls? And I'm just not cool with that. Seriously, I couldn't do that. They're all braver than I am.
“We'll be okay,” Church says, glancing over at Ranger. “I'm assuming you took care of the clothes?”
“They're gone,” Ranger says, and the flat, dark way in which he says it both relaxes and terrifies me. These guys work as a unit, a team. It's seamless. “Let's get some breakfast.” He pushes up from the wall and pauses near me, offering up an arm.
After a small moment of hesitation, I take it, and let him lead me downstairs to the dining area. I notice he can barely keep his azure gaze off of me, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he isn’t vigilant enough. I’ll admit, it’s a bit sexy, the overprotective thing. Or like, maybe a lot sexy.
