Page 56 of Steel Vengeance
“I know a place we can stay,” Stitch said, glancing at her pale face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. She didn’t want him to regret bringing her along.
“After we eat something, take another painkiller,” he said. “They’re too strong to take on an empty stomach.”
“Yes, Doc,” she said obediently and watched the corners of his mouth lift.
They pulled up outside a cream-colored building with “Khyber Lodge” written on it. “It’s reasonably priced and close to the airport,” he told her.
They were picking up his friend tomorrow morning, one of the guys he’d served with.
“Are you ever going to tell me your real name?” she asked, once they’d checked in. To avoid suspicion, they were posing as husband and wife. She hadn’t said a word—he handled everything.
The hotel receptionist hadn’t even blinked.
“It’s Vance,” he said after a pause.
“Vance.” She let the name roll off her tongue. “You know, you actually look like a Vance.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “And what does a Vance look like?”
“Dark, broody, grumpy. Exactly like you.”
That made him laugh—a deep, belly laugh that made his eyes crinkle. If she wasn’t so mesmerized by the transformation, she’d have laughed with him.
God help me.
When he wasn’t growling at her, he was totally gorgeous.
He shook his head and tossed his rucksack into the corner.
“Do you have a last name?” she asked.
“Now you’re pushing it.” He winked at her, completely unaware of her fluttering stomach, and pulled out his toothbrush. “I’m gonna take a shower, get rid of this road dust, and then we’ll grab something to eat and pick up a few supplies.”
She nodded, falling back on the double bed. It wasn’t even a king, and it had a dip in the middle. They hadn’t talked about sleeping arrangements.
“I won’t be long,” he said. “You should rest. You’ve been overdoing it. Most people in your condition would still be recovering in a hospital.”
“Except you,” she muttered, her eyes half-closed. She couldn’t picture him letting something like a gunshot wound slow him down.
His chuckle followed him into the bathroom.
Islamabad was completelydifferent from Peshawar. It was sprawling and green, and unlike other capitals she’d visited, it had a strangely peaceful vibe. Maybe it was because it was so spread out. Every district seemed to have its own shops, restaurants, and a distinct look.
They caught a taxi to Centaurus Mall, one of the more modern shopping complexes in Islamabad.
“It’s the best place to get something decent to eat and stock up on supplies,” Stitch told her.
And he was right. The mall had tons of stores, selling everything from clothes and shoes to perfume and toiletries. There was also a big food court with a lot of international restaurants.
After Sloane picked up a change of clothes, a hairbrush, toothbrush, and a few other essentials, Stitch suggested they eat at an Italian restaurant on the third floor. It had a stunning view of the city.
“It’s incredible,” she said, gazing out over the white-topped buildings and domed mosques. In the distance were the faded hills they’d driven through to get here, hazy with low-lying clouds. For once, the weather wasn’t sweltering.
Stitch—she was still getting used to calling him that—had cleaned up nicely.
Too nicely.