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Feeling awkwardly exposed despite the closed door, I scowled. “This is all your fault.”
“Yes, you’ve made me quite aware of that,” he said. “Could you open the door?”
I glanced down at my bare legs and snorted an unladylike laugh. “Not on your life.”
There was a beat and then, “I have some clean clothes, if you’re interested.”
“I couldn’t possibly fit in any of your things,” I said, which was an insane argument because what else was I going to do?
“Well, no,” Derrick said, and I could imagine him leaning into the door because his voice was easier to hear. “But I sent the lads to get some things from your home before we left so these should definitely fit.”
I sat stunned for a second, half furious that a group of wolves invaded my home and rifled through my private life. The other half of me was staring at pee-soaked skirts, shivering because it was blasted cold in the little room. And there was something else too, a niggling in my gut.
They’d invaded my home. They went through my things.
I felt exposed in every possible way and had to fight the sudden urge to open the door and punch Derrick King square in the jaw. It would be worth it to see that infuriating smirk of his vanish for a second.
“Nora?”
I stared at the door, the tiny confines of the lavatory squeezing around me, and fought to breathe. Maybe this wasn’t warlock trafficking in the traditional sense, but these were dangerous people. The longer I stayed with them, the more that danger would increase.
I had to get away somehow.
“Nora, you can’t stay in there the whole flight.”
“It would serve you right if I did.”
“Probably, but either way you’re going to want these clothes.”
Practicality won in the end.
I unlocked the door and opened it enough to squeeze one hand through. My clothes were thrust at me and yanked it all inside, latching the lock once more. Since my blouse still had coffee stains on the sleeve – curse that ivory color, it always does this to me – I was pleased to find that Derrick had included a shirt. Even if that shirt was plain blue cotton that did not at all match the black pants he’d delivered, at least it was clean and stain free.
Getting dressed inside a plane restroom was a unique challenge. I managed to stub my big toe twice, bash my head against the sink, and ram my elbow into the toilet-paper dispenser so hard I lost feeling in my fingers. I’m quite certain I heard concerned murmurs outside but ignored it in favor of locating my boots. These at least were easy to put on, sliding up and over my ankles with their faux-fur fringe.
I looked ridiculous but urine-free, so I counted it a win and opened the door.
Derrick was there, his expression highly amused, and I glared at him.
“You sent them to rifle through my things?”
His smile slipped. “I thought you would be more comfortable…”
“Having my home invaded? How do I know they didn’t hurt Bess? They’ve already threatened your mother.”
“She wasn’t there. They had to use your key.”
“And I’m supposed to take your word for it? Give me my phone so I can call and check on her.”
At this, Derrick glanced away. “They dumped your phone when they took you.”
My stomach turned. “I wasn’t done paying that off. It was nearly a thousand dollars.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said and held out a paper bag. “I didn’t imagine you’d want to touch them again until they were washed.”
Realizing he meant my discarded clothes, I glanced back into the restroom. Of course my polka-dot underwear would be right on top and I cringed, feeling the flush as it raced up my neck to bloom in my face. It did not escape me that he already handled my clean underwear, but somehow this was worse.
“I thought we’d burn them,” I said.
