Baggage Claim (Tru Exceptions - Christian Romantic Suspense Book 1) (9 page)

Turning into another parking garage, Dawson found an open spot by the elevator, parked and got out. Getting into the elevator, Dawson pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"Don't I need to check in at the front desk?" Rachel asked.

"You're already checked in. Under a different name, of course. I have the key to your room. Kelsey will have the other one."

Arriving on the fifth floor, they walked to room 523, and Dawson slid the key card in the door. It opened to reveal a very nice, large suite complete with a sitting room and two bedrooms on opposite ends.

"There are bathrooms connected to each of the bedrooms," Dawson explained. "You can pick which room you want. You've got to be hungry. I'll order some room service for us. You can get cleaned up when Kelsey arrives. She'll be bringing you some clothes and other things. Then you can go to bed. Sleep as long as you want."

"You've got to be just as exhausted as I am, Dawson. You need to sleep too."

He shrugged. "I will. Either Kelsey or I will be keeping watch while you sleep. While she's on duty here in the sitting room, I'll get some shut-eye in the other bedroom."

"I don't care which room I have as long as it has a bed. I guess I'll just take this one." Rachel moved toward the door of the closest bedroom."

"Rachel," Dawson called, his voice sounding strange. She turned around. "I need to thank you. You saved my life more than once last night."

Rachel was embarrassed. She didn't want his thanks. She felt herself blushing and looked at the floor, away from the sincere, almost vulnerable, blue eyes looking at her.

"Twice I had a gun trained on me with the terrorist ready to pull the trigger. I had no chance of getting away. And yet twice you managed to step in and save my life. In the alley and at the dock, you were more skilled than any agent I've ever worked with. For Pete's sake, Rachel! You shot the guy's gun hand! In the dark!"

Rachel shrugged. "Don't make me more heroic than I am. I probably should have shot the guy in the head. I had the shot. But, I just didn't know if I could pull the trigger on a kill shot like that. It was risky, but I was fairly certain I could hit his gun hand. I hoped that, if I missed, I could at least provide you with a distraction."

Dawson stepped forward slowly. Gently, he lifted Rachel's chin up with his finger so she was forced to meet his eyes.

"You were perfect, Montana. I couldn't have done it without you."

His eyes caressed her face.

"Rachel Saunders," he whispered. "You are thoroughly incredible."

The door to the hotel room opened. Dawson's hand dropped, and he swiftly stepped away.

"Rachel, I have some clothes and other toiletries so you can feel human again," Kelsey said, bustling in cheerfully.

"I'll order some food," Dawson announced, moving toward the phone.

Kelsey carried some bags into the bedroom and spread things out for Rachel to see: a soft nightgown, shampoo and conditioner, lotion, toothbrush and paste, jeans, sneakers, and a blouse.

Rachel was suddenly very self-conscious about how she looked. She had nearly forgotten that she was still dressed in her hooker outfit. Seeing the new clothes made her feel filthy and realize that she probably looked absolutely frightful. She self-consciously touched her long matted hair. Kelsey was beautiful and dressed so fashionably. At her very best, she didn't feel she could compare. No wonder Dawson said he wasn't interested in her.

"I hope I got everything," Kelsey said, oblivious to Rachel's internal self-torture. "I had to guess at the sizes. Just let me know if there's anything else you need and maybe I can run out and grab it while you're sleeping."

"Kelsey, Dawson is exhausted too," Rachel said quietly. "Couldn't they have assigned another agent as protection so he could recover?"

Kelsey looked at Rachel sharply. "They tried. But Dawson wouldn't let them. It was originally supposed to be only me, but Dawson insisted that you were his responsibility. This isn't the first time he's acted like this. He tends to get obsessive about his cases, insisting that he be the one to handle every last detail, tie up every loose end. He won't consider himself off duty until you're safely out of New York."

So it wasn't some affection that made Dawson want to stay and protect her.

"I see every mission through to the end," Dawson said, startling both women as he entered the bedroom. He had apparently heard at least part of Kelsey's response. "You're part of that mission, Rachel, so you're not going to get rid of me until I'm sure you're safe."

Part of his mission. That's all. Just one last detail that needed to be tended to.

There was a knock at the front door.

"That's got to be the food," Dawson said. "They said they were sending it right up."

Rachel and Kelsey followed him back into the sitting room. Checking the keyhole first, Dawson then opened the door and let in a dark-haired woman pushing a room service cart.

"Where would you like this, Sir," the woman asked with an accent Rachel didn't recognize.

"Right there by the couch would be great. Thank you."

"Hope you enjoy your food," she said, making eye contact with Kelsey and Rachel as well before leaving.

"Here, Rachel," Dawson said, handing her a plate. "You've got to be starved too. I just ordered a variety from their breakfast buffet. I can't even remember the last time I ate."

Dawson piled his plate high with bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

Rachel tried to summon up some enthusiasm, but couldn't. She should have been famished, yet her stomach turned at the thought of a huge meal. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, she put a muffin, some bacon, and some hash browns on her plate. She forced herself to eat one piece of bacon and part of the muffin. Then she just sat there looking at her food, unable to take one more bite. As if sensing her quandary, Kelsey took her plate from her.

"Why don't you go in and get your shower now, Rachel?" she urged. "While you're doing that, I need to run and check in with Andrews." To Dawson, she said, "He decided that, since you're going to be here, I needed to finish the paperwork on Rachel's statement. I'll also be briefed on the progress of the investigation. I'll probably be gone about an hour or so, then I'll be back and you can get some sleep."

"That's fine," Dawson said. "I'm feeling great now that I've eaten something. Those pancakes are really good."

"With as hungry as you are, you'd probably think shoe leather tasted good too," Kelsey said, rolling her eyes.

"Sleep well, Rachel," Kelsey called as Rachel shut the bedroom door.

Rachel moved to the bed to collect the things she needed for her shower. She gathered the nightgown, a brush, and the shampoo and conditioner in her hands, but instead of moving toward the bathroom, she sat down on the bed. She gazed unseeingly at the items in her hands. Her mind began going through all the events since she arrived in New York. All the scenes replayed in front of her eyes. All the danger and fear suffocating in its intensity. She began rocking back and forth as wave after wave of trauma washed over her. She had kept calm and sane through unimaginable events, never shedding a single tear. But now that dam burst, and her body convulsed in deep sobs.

So consumed in her nightmares, her consciousness barely registered the opening of the bedroom door. Strong hands took the things out of her hands, set them on the floor, and then bent low to remove her hooker boots. The mattress moved with the weight of another body sitting down beside her. Gentle arms drew her close, pulling her into a man's lap, and cradling her against a muscled chest. Soothing fingers smoothed her hair, wiped her tears. Tender lips trailed light kisses along her forehead. Warm breath whispered words of comfort.

"Ssshhhh. It's okay. It's all over. I'm here."

Dawson.

Rachel woke slowly. The first thing she was aware of was the smell. What was that awful odor? Then, as her senses became more alert, she realized the truth: she stunk. She hadn't noticed it last night, but now, nestled between the clean sheets, the scent of smoke that permeated her entire body, her hair, her clothes, was inescapable.

With the smell came all the memories. She had intended to shower and hopefully wash some of those memories away with the filth before going to bed. But she hadn't made it that far. She remembered breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably, releasing all the pent-up fear and trauma. She remembered Dawson coming to her and holding her close while she cried. After falling asleep in his arms, he must have tucked her into bed.

She remembered his gentle caresses, his sweet kisses, his soothing words. Maybe he did care for her. He wouldn't have done all that for her if she really was only a loose end in his mission, right?

Rachel sat up and scooted out of bed. She had the strong desire to head straight for the shower, but more overpowering was the need to see Dawson. She walked to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. She only wanted to see him. She really didn't want him to see and smell her the way she was now. Maybe if she could reassure herself that he was still here, that would reaffirm that her memories of his tender care were real. Then she could go get cleaned up and presentable.

Though she had tried to be quiet, the second the door opened, Kelsey turned around on the couch and looked directly at Rachel peeking through the door. Giving up, Rachel opened the door wide and walked into the sitting room. Dawson also looked up from where he was sitting in a chair, looking at some papers. But, even before he made eye contact, he went back to his papers, as if completely disinterested in her presence.

"Hi, Rachel," Kelsey greeted. "How are you feeling?"

Rachel suddenly had a vague memory of Kelsey coming in several times while she was sleeping and trying to wake her. She had never fully awakened, but Kelsey had apparently been satisfied enough with her response to leave her alone.

"I'm fine," Rachel responded. "I still have a headache, but not bad. How long did I sleep? What time is it?

"It's about 6:00 in the evening," Kelsey answered. "You got about eight hours."

"I could probably sleep another eight, but I was awakened by my own stench. I guess I never made it to the shower."

 "No," Kelsey said. "Dawson said you were too exhausted and never made it into the bathroom. I don't blame you. After what you'd been through, it was amazing you stayed upright as long as you did."

Rachel looked at Dawson, but he seemed to be completely ignoring her and their conversation. It didn't appear that Dawson had told Kelsey about her complete breakdown. She appreciated that. Of course she would rather Dawson hadn't been there to witness her weakness either, but that couldn't be helped. She might even think his omission was sweet. But, his current attitude of completely snubbing her was doing nothing to reinforce the idea of him being remotely sweet or considerate. Maybe he'd been so thoroughly disgusted by her and her emotional display that he wanted nothing to do with her now.

"I need to run and get done those things we talked about, Kelsey," Dawson announced, suddenly standing up. "I'll also have some food sent up."

"Sure," Kelsey replied. "After you get back, I'll trade off with you and see to the details of getting Rachel on the plane."

"Okay."

Dawson turned and walked to the door, never once looking at or addressing Rachel in any way. It was as if she was invisible to him. Completely flabbergasted, she turned to Kelsey to see if she had noticed Dawson's strange behavior. But the look on Kelsey's face stopped any question Rachel may have asked. As Dawson went out the door, she saw Kelsey watching him with a look that could only be described as longing.

The door clicked shut, and the look was gone. Kelsey turned to Rachel with a smile, as if that particular emotion had never crossed her face. Kelsey was so professional and friendly. If Rachel hadn't seen the expression herself, she would never have even believed it had been there.

Rachel sat down across from Kelsey, in the chair vacated by Dawson.

"Kelsey, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Rachel asked, deciding to be direct. After today, she'd probably never even see Kelsey again. What did she have to lose?

Kelsey looked cautious, but said, "Go ahead."

"I saw the way you looked at Dawson when he left. Are you and he involved romantically in some way?"

"No," Kelsey replied. "Dawson and I have never been involved romantically. We're colleagues, friends, but that's it. The look you saw… I guess I can't deny it. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't like to be romantically involved with him."

"Does he know how you feel?" Rachel asked.

"No, probably not. But I know there's nothing I can do about it. Trust me, I'm not alone. I think every single woman who has contact with Dawson Tate has some manner of crush on the man. In fact, I'd wager that with the experiences you've had with him, you're probably half in love with him yourself, Rachel. That's what usually happens with the women he deals with on cases."

Rachel said nothing, but she felt a blush starting to seep into her cheeks.

"Don't be embarrassed, Rachel. Most of the women in our department have their sights set on Dawson, and, like I said, women who are involved in his cases seem especially susceptible to his charms. Not that he ever seems to purposely lead women on or even invite that interest. He's always been very professional and clear about boundaries as far as I can tell."

"So he never gets involved with any of the many women who are interested in him?"

"No, he doesn't, and I should probably warn you about that. It won't do you any good to let your heart harbor any hope of a relationship with Dawson. He has very strict personal rules. He never gets involved with women from work or from cases he works on. I've heard him mention it several times in passing to other colleagues."

"I understand," Rachel replied, clearly remembering when he 'mentioned' it to her as well. "So, since his rules apply to work, does he date outside of work?"

"If I remember right, I think he had a girlfriend who lived in Florida a few years back, but I have no idea if they're still together. Dawson keeps his personal life personal, but I certainly haven't heard of him going on a lot of dates. He's not a player at all. In fact, I think he's pretty religious. He's a Christian and seems to take his faith and convictions very seriously."

As if the man didn't have an aggravatingly perfect resume already, now Rachel found  out for sure that they shared a faith.  Not that it did her any good at this point.

"Thank you for being open with me, Kelsey. I already knew Dawson managed his personal life with some strict rules. I also knew that he had absolutely no romantic interest in me. But, I guess it's nice to know it's not just me."

"On the contrary, Rachel, while Dawson may not think of you romantically, he definitely thinks very highly of you. We were talking while you were sleeping. You played a lot bigger role in events than you let on in your statement. Dawson was very impressed, and, from what he told me, I am completely in awe of you. He said if you hadn't been there, he would have been dead on at least two separate occasions."

Rachel shrugged. "I guess I did what I had to do. Dawson saved my life too."

"Okay, but I need to know. Is it all true? Did you shoot the rearview mirror out of the terrorist's vehicle as Dawson swung around a curve? Did you escape and disarm a terrorist who had a gun to your head? Did you really shoot the gun hand of another terrorist who was about to shoot Dawson? And do it in the dark? Oh, and what was this about throwing your wig in someone's face and completely beating up another guy who tried to stop you from getting in the helicopter?"

Rachel grimaced. "I didn't realize Dawson even saw those last parts on the dock. I don't know that throwing my wig in the guy's face was one of my finer moments. I was just desperate at that point."

"Rachel, seriously, do you want a job? Dawson would probably kill me for asking, but, after reviewing the reports, especially Dawson's, Andrews asked me to feel you out a little bit. We could really use someone like you with Homeland Security. You would be very well compensated."

"Thank you, Kelsey. I'm flattered. But no. I just don't think I'm cut out for the kind of work you and Dawson do. I think I'll be much happier back home on my family's ranch."

"I understand. But why don't you go ahead and give it some thought. The offer still stands, and there's not really an expiration on it. I'm sure Andrews would love to have you at any time."

"Thanks, Kelsey. I really appreciate everything. But, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get that much-needed shower. I just can't stand myself a second longer."

"Go for it. Who knows, you might even get that extra eight hours of sleep if they can't get you on a plane until morning. While you're showering, I'll check to see if Dawson already ordered us some food or if I need to get that done. I might not be here when you get out. As soon as Dawson comes back to take my place, I need to take care of some details."

Rachel didn't know if anything in her entire life had felt as heavenly as that shower. It had been wonderful to peel off the icky hooker clothes and step into the hot water that eased her tense muscles and cleaned away the grime. It was like finally getting a nice hot shower after days on a dirty camping trip, but it was even better. She took her time, and, when she finally turned the water off, the bathroom was filled with steam. She hadn't bothered to turn on the vent. She couldn't stand the noise when she was trying to relax.

She pulled aside the curtain and reached for her towel. Before she could fully dry off and wrap her towel securely around her body, the bathroom door opened. A dark haired woman entered. She had a gun in her hand. And she pointed it directly at Rachel's chest.