Inflict: A Novel

Chapter Seventeen

"What?"

"Are you okay?" he clarified.

Evelyn frowned, and tightened the quilt around her shoulders. "I'm better now. You're here."

"That doesn't really answer my question, lass."

"I don't really have an answer," she admitted. Then, like nothing was amiss, she changed the subject just as fast. "Do you think they might bring us up some food if you called down?"

Connor managed a smile. "Twenty-four-hour room service. You pay for what you get in this place."

And the place was expensive as feck.

"Food would be nice."

"All right." Connor pushed away from the door. "Anything specific?"

"No. I think I would like to take a bath, too."

"Sure, love. I'll let you know when the food is up here."

It took a good hour before the food arrived, and Killian still hadn't returned to the room by that time, either. Connor set the grub up in the bedroom he shared with Evelyn, leaving the extra out in the main section of the suite for Killian to pick through when he got back.

Connor knocked on the bathroom door with two knuckles, waiting for Evelyn's confirmation before he entered. Usually, she wouldn't mind if he strolled right in, but he had the feeling she needed space, some time to think. He heard the splash of water just before her voice called out.

"I'll be out in a minute," she said.

Connor almost left her alone, but the quietness of her voice stopped him. "You all right?"

Evelyn didn't respond right away, which only ramped up Connor's concerns.

"Evelyn."

"I just ... this soap is garbage," she mumbled.

What?

Connor didn't bother to wait for permission after he knocked the second time, and Evelyn didn't respond. He turned the knob, and poked his head in, his gaze zoning in on the beautiful, yet hauntingly sad woman in the claw bathtub.

The tub was filled to the rim, so much so that water had spilled over onto the floor. The steam and smell of soap hung heavily into the bathroom, so strongly that it damn near made Connor sick. Evelyn stared at him from the tub, her wet hair hanging around her shoulders in dripping waves and covering her chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Washing," she said frankly.

Connor didn't think so, not by the look of her, anyway. Even from his position, he could clearly see that she had scrubbed her skin raw, the red hue making him wince. "Evelyn."

She glanced down. "I want it all off, that's all. I smell it on me. The dirt and the mustiness. I can't get it off."

He stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. "Is that all?"

His question was vague at best, and not exactly what he wanted to ask, but he was a feckin' coward. He was scared that if he asked her the question burning on the back of his tongue, that her answer would be one that told him he still hadn't made it in time to save her from one more man taking from her body.

Evelyn released a shaky breath, her hands skimming the milky colored water. "I don't want to smell him, or the dirt, or feel it right now."

"Scrubbing yourself raw won't help."