Page 58 of A Touch of Frost
Chapter 12
Jesse
The view outside the window was the same as it had been for the past few days. Still, I stood there, arms folded across my chest, staring out. Vehicles went to and fro but I could only see the tops.
The hedge along the front blocked most of what was happening beyond.
Paul was slowly getting better which was good. The downside was I hadn’t been able to have a moment alone with Frost and we still had no idea where Striker was—I was beginning to think he was gone. Maybe he went back to Bucharest or even headed for cover in the States.
Either way, Frost was obsessed with finding him and I knew there was a story there, one she hadn’t fully explained to me.
I was aware she came with secrets.
That wasn’t something I was surprised by. But whatever Striker did to her, she’d ploughed through his men without person, tortured one with a McGyvered device in our hotel room then pursued Striker without mercy.
Some men would be afraid of her, afraid of what she was capable of. But I knew a side of Frost most other men hadn’t seen—that I was hoping Mozart had never seen.
I knew the Abigail Ryder, the one who dug her nails into my back as she melted and arched up to me. I knew the woman behind the bulldozer, and I wanted her.
I wanted both.
“Jes?”
Shit, now I’m hearing things.
“Jes?” Paul’s voice was rough around a cough.
Turning, I rushed toward the bed, grabbing a bottle of water as I went. He coughed a little more and I sat on the side of the bed and helped him to sit up and drink. He drew from the bottle greedily.
“Whoa.” I cautioned. “Slow down.”
“I’m sorry.” He panted. “So, thirsty.”
I took the bottle away, wrung the cap off one of the supplements Lizard had bought for him and handed it over. His hands shook as he accepted it and I wrapped my fingers around his and the bottle to hold it steady enough to drink.
Once I had him settled against the pillows again, I tried getting up, but he caught my arm.
“You came for me,” he said.
“Yeah, Paul. I came for you.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” I asked. “Do you really think so little of me that you believe I’d leave you to die?”
“I didn’t think you cared.”
I shrugged from his hold and shoved away from the bed.
“What I meant was—I didn’t think you knew.”
“Well, it took me a little time to figure it out.” I told him. “The truth is, I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”
“Keeping tabs on me…”
I tapped my chest and held my breath for a moment, trying to get rid of the tightness that threatened to make me pass out. “I knew I couldn’t talk to you.”
“Why not?”
