Page 36 of Forbidden Access

Damian stripped off his T-shirt, and Thorn left with the image of his finely tuned torso burned into her retina.

CHAPTER 14

Thorn set off, map in hand, cursing under her breath. Why did Damian have to be so goddamn well put together? Why couldn’t he be a geek, like computer nerds were supposed to be? Then she wouldn’t be having this problem.

But no, instead, she was stuck with a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad. Damian, standing in his bedroom, in that tiny towel.

His body wet and glistening, muscles rippling beneath his bronzed skin.

And those eyes—dark, stormy, and filled with something that made her stomach flip every time they met hers.

Dammit.

Her freakin’ hormones were buzzing again, a low hum that made it impossible to focus on anything else. She sucked in a breath of warm, dry air, trying to clear her head.

Concentrate.

But it was no use. The memory of his body was branded into her mind, every hard line and defined muscle. The way the water had clung to him, dripping down his chest, tracing the contours of his abs, had her insides tightening in a way that was completely unprofessional.

Putting Damian’s chiseled physique firmly out of her mind was a losing battle, but she tried, burying the image deep. She studied the map, forcing herself to focus. Any apps on her phone were useless here, thanks to the poor reception, so they were going “old school.” She examined the layout of the village, noting it wasn’t very big.

Next, she took a walk around their hotel. It was situated between two other buildings. On one side was an old residence with subdivided apartments, and on the other, a farmacia, with what she assumed were the drugstore’s lodgings upstairs.

There was no access to the hotel from the sides, even though a narrow alleyway separated it from each of its neighbors. At the front was the big wooden door they’d come through, while at the back, facing the square, was a smaller door leading to a tiled patio with a round table and several chairs.

Two points of entry.

Thorn pushed open the smaller door and found herself in a rustic dining room. Their hostess, along with a younger woman, was setting the tables for breakfast.

“Hola,” Thorn smiled. At least she knew how to say hello. In her defense, she had spent the last five years in the Middle East. Her Pashto was far better than her Spanish.

The younger woman glanced up. “Hola, you are staying at the hotel?”

“You speak English,” Thorn said, relieved.

“Sí. I’m Clara, Isabella’s niece.”

“Hi, Clara, it’s great to meet you.”

“You want breakfast?” Clara gestured to the table settings.

“Not right now. I’m going for a walk.”

She nodded. “You come when you want.”

Thorn walked through the plaza, scouting out the various shops and cafes. The kids were still playing their soccer game and gave her toothy grins and waves as she passed. She waved back.

On the far side of the plaza, she came across yet another alleyway. It ran between a coffee shop and a grocery store. Thorn glanced around, then followed it for a quarter mile before emerging on a quiet, suburban street flanked by residences. Some were subdivided, but most were free-standing houses.

She consulted the map, looking for an escape route. If things went south, she wanted to be prepared. If she turned right here and walked roughly three hundred yards along the quiet street, then turned left, passing what looked like a park or children’s playfield, she’d end up on a main road heading out of town.

Only one way to find out.

She took off at a jog, following the route in her head. Once she turned off the suburban road, the terrain became dry and dusty, the track flanked by a few trees and dried-out bushes. The few properties she saw were set back from the path and behind high walls. Either this was a rich part of town or very poor; she couldn’t decide which.

The walls, made of stone and concrete, needed painting, but that meant nothing. There could have been sprawling mansions behind them or small, dilapidated houses.

As she ran past, a wooden gate groaned open, and a teenage boy stepped out. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and his shoes were faded and smudged with dirt. Thorn came to a stop and gave him a friendly smile. “Hola.”

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