Envelope Challenge

Chapter 17 - Truth?

Although they decided to let Maria bring them to where the masked group was, by the time they got back to where they left her, the Ford Fusion was gone with no sign of its owner. They barely stood there for a minute before they turned away and down the street. If she'd left, she wasn't coming back any time soon.

"We need a hotel," she whispered to him. Talking loudly had taken its toll on her throat and she could barely manage a whisper without pain making itself known. Her new companion by the name of pain didn't like being ignored.

He nodded and wrapped his arm around her waist again. She wasn't having trouble walking anymore so didn't know why he felt the need to, but appreciated the warmth it gave her. It was always comforting to have someone close.

"How's your throat feeling?" he asked.

"As good as it looks." She managed a weak laugh that was more flowing air than laughter. "How bad does it look?"

She could tell by the look on his face he debated lying to her, but, wisely, chose not to. "It's pretty bad. You can really see the finger marks and it's completely black; it hasn't even started turning blue yet."

She made a face at that news, even though she had already guessed that was the case. "Wonderful. If my mother were here..." She coughed weakly. "She would say that I was being unladylike by having a bruised neck." Once she'd spoken, a wave of homesickness settled over her heart and she lapsed into silence.

"You should call her," Nathaniel told her, but she shook her head otherwise, her hand flying up to her neck in the process.

"I left. Why would she want to talk to me?"

"Polly, she went looking all over for you. Did you forget when you hid under the bench? She obviously cares about you; she just doesn't know how to show it." He pulled her closer to his side by her waist and rested his chin on top of her head. She was right; her head did fit just perfectly with his.

"Can I use your phone?" she asked quietly after thinking it over for a few minutes. "But we should probably get to a hotel first."

He chuckled. "You're stalling, but alright. Let's get to a hotel."

"I'm not stalling," she gasped indignantly. "I'm being smart."

"Sure you were, spitfire, sure you were. You just keep telling yourself that."

She could still feel the chuckle rumbling deep in his chest as they continued along the sidewalk until they came upon a small hotel. He kept his arm around her as he paid for the room, this time with two beds, and they headed over after getting the key. It was on the first floor.

"Here we are. Home sweet home," he announced and stepped into the room, releasing her waist.

The room was bare, but sturdy looking. There were two twin beds beside each other, separated by a bedside table, but the room was small enough that, even pressed together, the beds were pushed against the wall. There was a small TV on the opposite end on a small wooden stand and a small chest beside it to keep clothes. The bathroom would probably be just as essential based.

"Well, rich boy? How does this compare to the Four Seasons and your regular haunts?" she teased.

"Anything looks good with you in it," he flirted. "You make any room five times hotter, even if it is... simple."

"Shut up, pervert," she grumbled and fell onto the bed closer to the door. He was looking around with a lost look in his eyes, as if he forgot something, but couldn't remember what it was he forgot. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Umm... Our bags! She drove off with our bags!" He seemed genuinely angry, which was entirely understandable.

Polly giggled from where she was lying down. "That seems like something she'd do. And neither of us noticed."