Page 34 of Forbidden Access

“Okay,” Thorn muttered to herself as she set off after him along the well-worn track. They hadn’t spoken much on the flight over, which suited her fine. After their last brief discussion, he’d withdrawn into himself, and she’d gone about the business of guarding him without distraction. It was better this way.

It didn’t stop the unwanted thoughts, however, and every now and then when he glanced at her, she saw the hurt and anger in his gaze. Slanting silver daggers that pierced her heart—but not enough to make her relent.

He’d get over it, just like he got over his other women. One kiss. Okay, two if you count the wedding shot. Two kisses did not make for a relationship, and they sure as hell didn’t mean it was love—or even like, for that matter.

Just lust, the annoying voice in her head said.

Still, the stony silence was better than heated gazes and overwhelming desire that left her breathless and unable to concentrate on her job.

Eventually, they reached a series of dusty outer streets that narrowed as they reached the town. Damian stopped, turning into the rising sun. It cast his face in a warm, orange glow and made his eyes shine with a metallic glint. Her stomach tightened.

He wasn’t out of breath, even though they’d been walking for over an hour. He really was an outdoorsy guy.

“What’s the name of the hotel?” he asked her, putting his hands on his hips.

She consulted the details Anna had sent her on her phone. “Hostal Las Sabinas. It should be next to the town square.”

He gave a stiff nod and set off again, marching down the dusty street that led into the maze of brightly colored adobe buildings, some of which were still in shadow, some of which shone vibrantly in the morning glow.

“We’re supposed to be casual travelers,” Thorn pointed out, catching up with him. “Slow down. What’s the hurry?”

She saw his shoulders tense, but he slowed his pace. Together, they ambled toward the town square—weary backpackers, fresh off the bus from Mexico City. Unsurprisingly, it was still deserted. Thorn looked around, doing a mental risk assessment. The only sound came from a weathered stone fountain, where a trickle of water fell from the figure’s urn and pooled around her.

“That’s it,” she murmured, spotting a small, unassuming hotel situated at the edge of the square. It might have been pretty once, but the whitewashed walls were dirty, and the flowers in the hanging baskets outside had long since wilted and died.

They went around the back into a cobbled alleyway and knocked on the large wooden door. It was early, but presumably, someone would be there since it was a hotel.

Sure enough, a short while later, they heard footsteps inside, and a middle-aged woman opened the door. “¿Sí?”

They didn’t have prebooked accommodation, preferring not to leave a paper trail. Not even in a false name. It was best if they were spontaneous, just like backpackers would be. That way, nobody would know their itinerary.

Thorn cleared her throat and said, “Do you have a room?”

The woman stared at her. “¿Qué?”

She glanced at Damian. They were supposed to be American backpackers, but this region was very remote.

She was about to try again in halting Spanish when Damian stepped forward and said, “Buenos días, ¿quisiéramos reservar una habitación?”

Thorn stared at him. Okay, so he could speak Spanish like a native. Seems there were a lot of gaps in his file.

The woman broke into a broad grin and nodded.

Thorn sighed in relief.

“¿Para cuántas personas?”

Damian replied, “Para dos, con dos camas y baño completo.”

Thorn thought she picked up bedroom and bathroom. Damian said something else she couldn’t understand, but the woman was nodding.

“Sí.” She held open the door.

They were in.

“I asked for breakfast to be included,” Damian said, as they followed the woman to their room. “I thought if we didn’t have to go out to eat in the morning, it would make us less conspicuous.”

“Good thinking.”

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