Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security 3)

She could’ve left. She could’ve had a nurse come in and care of me. She could’ve called Blackbridge like I insisted so there was someone I knew here, but she didn’t.

She stayed close, medicated me, made sure I drank fluids no matter how many times I complained about it.

She. Stayed.

The woman known for running at every turn stuck by my side when I was too sick to even get out of the bed. The things I whispered to her were a hundred percent true. She’s caring, compassionate, and gorgeous, deserving of the attention she seeks from her parents.

“She’s got all of my attention,” I grumble as I turn the shower dials, the water in this expensive hotel instantly coming out hot.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been so sick in my life, but I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. My bones ache, muscles stiff and sore as I wash away the sweat and disgust from the last couple of days. After climbing out, I can’t find any shaving supplies, but honestly, I don’t have the strength to worry about it.

My clothes are like an intimate hug, made even better by knowing that they’re here because of Remington’s thoughtfulness. Has anyone other than my mother ever cared for me the way she did? Not that I can recall.

Did she do it because she wanted to or because it was the right thing to do?

The argument is rifling through my head as I make my way back to the living room area of the suite. She could’ve easily called someone in. She could’ve taken off and let me fend for myself. There are a dozen different ways she could’ve handled the situation. She doesn’t owe me. If anything, it was her opportunity to get away from me for good.

“Remi?” I whisper, leaning close to her but making sure I don’t touch her. “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

She groans, shifting her weight, but she doesn’t make a move to pull the covers from over her head. She sleeps this same way back home, completely wrapped up without an inch of her body showing, and although it’s adorable, I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“I can call down and have them change the sheets in the bed,” I offer, knowing she didn’t want to sleep in the other room in the first place since it’s darker in the room I somehow ended up in. “Do you want me to do that?”

She doesn’t answer, and although it’s clear she wants to be left alone, I’m a stubborn man.

“Hey.” I shake what looks like the lump of her shoulder. “Go get in the bed.”

She groans again, shoving the blanket away from her face.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Where the hell did that little sentiment come from?

I can’t over analyze it right now, because the sight of her flushed cheeks and half-opened bloodshot eyes reveals her truth. She’s sick. The woman got the damn flu while she was taking care of me. My heart clenches at her unease.

“Come on,” I whisper, pulling the blanket free of her body and picking her up off of the couch.

She presses her nose into my neck, and the warmth of her skin and breath on mine makes me consider never putting her down, but that would be a gross misuse of power right now.

Instead of heading back into the room with my sweat-soaked sheets, I carry her to the other room, somehow managing to pull back the blankets without dropping her. She’s reluctant to release her hold from around my neck when I lower her to the mattress, but like I felt earlier, her arms just aren’t strong enough to maintain their hold.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper with my lips against her forehead.

When I pull away, I convince myself that I did it the way a mother would check for fever because the truth would just be too much right now. I rush back to the other room, collecting the thermometer, meds, and Pedialyte.

She’s once again snuggled completely under the covers, grousing when I pull them back.

“Temp first,” I say, holding the thermometer close to her head. “One-o-two. Now meds.”

She rolls away, using her arm to cover her head when her seeking arm doesn’t find the top of the blanket.

“Let me die in peace,” she begs.

“I got you sick, Remi. Please take some medicine.”

She rolls over to face me but makes no attempt to sit up. With an arm around her shoulders, I incline her enough to get pills into her mouth and a couple of sips down her throat.

“Get some rest.” I press my lips to her forehead once again, feeling utterly exhausted. “I’ll let your parents know where you are.”

She grips my arm with a strength I didn’t know she had. “Don’t. They wouldn’t even care.”

I promised her before that I was here for her, for her safety, and although her parents are the ones signing the checks to BBS, I meant every word of it. She’s not in trouble nor acting out in a way that would upset them, so I don’t see the issue with doing as she wishes.