Page 42 of Out of Reach

“What I hadn’t counted on was finding you exhausted, not even able to walk to the plane. I had to carry you. Ricci must have been working you hard these last couple of weeks.” He nudged the water bottle in Jude’s hand. “Drink that. You’ll feel better.”

Jude was so thirsty, he drank the water down in one go, all the while thinking something wasn’t right but unable to pinpoint what. If he could only clear his mind, but every second that went by, things only got more muddled until his vision blurred, and he didn’t know anything at all.

The next time Jude opened his eyes, he was in a hotel room, lying on a bed. Pushing himself to his elbows, he looked around the empty room. His suitcase was in the corner. In the mirror over the dresser, he saw himself in his navy pants and pink button-down shirt, looking as disheveled and out of it as he currently felt.

Unsteadily, he got to his feet and pushed back the heavy drapes. Judging by the sun, it was probably about eight-thirty in the morning. Gradually, memories of being on Sam’s plane filtered into his brain. Looking around the room again, he spotted a second suitcase and, for the first time, noticed the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

Concentrating, he remembered Sam saying how exhausted Jude had been—so exhausted that Sam had had to carry him to the plane. Sam had brought him to LA for Fashion Fest to save him from having to fly commercial.

Maybe he was trying to win Jude back.

Stumbling, he made his way around the bed and almost fell when the bathroom door suddenly opened and Sam stepped out, a towel around his waist.

“Jude, come back to the bed,” he said, grabbing Jude’s arm and propelling him in that direction. “Rest. You’ve been sick.” He handed Jude a glass of water, from which Jude thankfully drank.

“Sick?” he asked when he finished.

“Well, worn out by exhaustion. I’ve given Ricci a piece of my mind, let me tell you.” Sam brought Jude’s feet up onto the bed and covered him with a light blanket.

Exhaustion. Jude had been working a lot, but he didn’t think he was that bad off.

He was tired, though. Really tired. He told himself he’d close his eyes for just a minute.

He dreamed of being photographed, the flash of the bulb and directions from the photographer. Endless pictures, one right after the other. Then nothing.

Eventually, Jude became aware of two male voices close by. One he recognized as Sam’s, the other he didn’t know.

“It’s better to keep him this way,” Sam said. “In the morning, we can just take him to the ship.”

“Won’t it look suspicious carrying him out?” the other voice asked as Jude’s mind echoed,The ship?

“It’ll be the middle of the night. Let me worry about the particulars. You work for me. Just do as I say.” Jude heard the drapes being pulled closed again.

“Sure, boss. You want me to sit here with him while you eat? Food’s set up in the room next door.”

“Come eat with me. I’ll leave the door open between rooms. He’ll be out for a few more hours after that last dose.”

Sleep tenaciously tugged at him, but Jude fought it off. The voices faded away into the next room, and when Jude parted his eyelids, the room was even darker than it had been before, the lamp on the dresser having been extinguished.

Carefully turning his head, which felt like it was weighted down on the pillow, Jude looked at the table beside the bed. The drawer was slightly open, with the plastic corner of a hotel guest packet sticking out of the aperture.

Lifting his hand was difficult, and Jude’s heart raced at the state he was in. He felt as though he’d been drugged. Had Sam drugged him? He’d said,It’s better to keep him this way.

Latching onto the plastic-covered packet with his fingers, Jude carefully edged it toward him, only to have it topple out of the drawer and fall to the carpet. Fortunately, it didn’t make much noise, and the voices next door continued to drone on, backed by the sound of silverware on china.

Rolling to his side, Jude squinted down at the packet, which had landed face up, and read the words at the top: Marriott, Miami.

Miami?

Heart pounding, Jude struggled to sit up, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead. The more panicked he became, the more clearly he could think, but his body simply wouldn’t cooperate with him.

His cell phone wasn’t anywhere he could see, and after an excruciatingly slow pat-down, he found it wasn’t in his pockets. He looked at the landline phone on the nightstand. He could call 911, right? That’s what he needed to do.

Reaching for the phone, he gently took it from the cradle and pushed 0, listening to the voices in the next room with one ear to make sure no one was about to walk in on him. When he got a dial tone, he punched in a number.

“Sterling,” Hawk said, sounding distracted.

“Hawk,” Jude whispered. He had dialed Hawk’s number. God, he wanted Hawk there with him so badly.