Free To Touch Poison by L. j. Charles

order—estimated time of delivery seventy-five minutes. Should be just long enough to soak her cast off.
    Time dragged while she soaked. Was there anything more boring than perching on the edge of a bathtub with your arm in a sink full of water? The forced inactivity left Kaimi nothing to do but sing along with the radio while she considered what, and how, to tell Jayme about everything that had happened. She’d put off thinking about it all day because it was the most stressful thing on her to-do list. It had been so long since she’d disappeared. Maybe he’d found someone else. Oh, damn. Or worse, maybe he’d heard rumors that she’d died. If the CIA could get away with crap like that, surely the military could as well.
    What if…
    A solid pounding on the door interrupted her thoughts.

 
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    KAIMI RIPPED THE FEW REMAINING strips of gaze and plaster from her wrist, palmed her new Boss Jack, and almost put her eye up to the peephole before she caught herself. Bad idea. Her shadow would be readily visible with all the lights on, and if whoever was on the other side had a gun, they could blast a hole right through the door. Chances were good the knock had come from a room service waiter, but Eamon was out there. Could he have followed her? Or if he wasn’t able to travel yet, could he have sent someone? Fion?
    She was giving in to paranoia. How stupid. “Who is it?” She tightened her hold on the knife, stood to the side of the door, and checked the chain lock—not that it would stop anyone, but it would gave her a narrow window of opportunity to listen and look before anyone burst through the door.
    A garbled mouthful of words sifted into the room.
    Not good. The door opened from the right to the left. Kaimi canted her body behind the door in a blade position and, bracing her right foot, moved the left several inches back from the door. “Didn’t understand you. Say again.” Her voice was tight, demanding.
    Another firm knock followed by what sounded like her name. She hadn’t been able to check in with Fred, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of what had gone down at the campsite and sent someone to check on her.
    A blast of adrenaline hit her veins.
    Why hadn’t she purchased a gun during her earlier shopping spree? Keeping her knife hand at the ready, Kaimi leaned back onto her right foot for strength, and to make less of a target if whoever was out there crashed into the room. She checked that the door would clear her left knee if someone burst through it, sucked in a breath, turned the knob, and eased the door open until the chain pulled taut. “Who is it?” Anxiety and irritation added a sharp crackle to her words.
    “Xola Muerte? Open the door. I’m from the American CIA and—”
    Kaimi’s vision narrowed and her heart pounded. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. She fumbled with the door, closing it to release the chain, and then swinging it wide open. Her heart beat wild in her chest. “Jayme?”
    His face blanched to stark white. “Kaimi?”
     
    THERE SHE WAS. AFTER ALL this time, right in front of him. He needed to touch her, hold her tightly enough to feel her heart beating against his chest. To know she was alive and... He tossed his duffle into the room and reached for her, arms open, hope flaring, tears of relief burning behind his eyes.
    He drank her in. Her dark blue eyes were duller than he remembered, and the way she was clutching the blanket tight to her body was all wrong. She’d sleeked back her hair in a harsh wad, and it was streaked with dark wet patches. There was a bruise on her jaw, barely visible under her tanned, olive skin. And she had a knife in her hand. Panic surged. “You’re hurt. Are you in danger?”
    She backed away from him. “No, I…come in. I’m…how did you find me? Thank God you found me! I was going to call you, but you knocked, and I thought it was room service, and, oh, my God you’re really here .”
    A chill twisted and