Nine Hours

Chapter 7

"So, let me get this straight. You don't read minds, but you know what people have done or are thinking or something. You can bend time to your will. Make entire plane loads of people—vanish. Hijack that same plane to a destination of your choosing. Somehow you manipulate what people think so they'll do what you want." I stare at him. "And, I'm not supposed to think any of this is scary and weird? In fact, I'm gonna wanna stick around for the next party trick?"

Leaping to my feet, I back away from the counter. My own words have lit a fire under my butt. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. "No. I don't think so, Gunnar. If I'm truly not on that plane having some tricked out dream, then, I want out. Now. Send me back." The volume of my voice has increased, but I don't care. "I didn't ask for any of this. I don't recall ever glowing once in my life, and I think I'd like to go home now. To hell with Munich and Europe. If you can," I wave my arms frantically around me, "actually manipulate reality, then just shoot me back to my little apartment in Las Vegas, thank you very much."

Finished unleashing my bottled up fury, I still, fists clenched at my sides, face burning with emotion, and breathing heavily. The thought of my comfy queen-size bed awaiting me sounds fantastic. Hiding there with the comforter pulled over my head until this dream goes away and everything returns to normal, sounds even better.

Staring a laser hole through Gunnar's head isn't helping, though. The man sits calmly on the bar stool, his head propped against his fist, waiting for the end of my tirade. He doesn't say a word for many moments. Long enough for me to wonder if he's fallen into a trance and hasn't heard a word. Anger and frustration billow like smoke in a forest fire.

Slowly, he rises to his feet. "It is late. You should get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning. And morning comes very quickly this far north during the summer." As he speaks he strolls across the room and down the hallway, as if I'm going to follow like a puppy. To my own dismay, I do.

"Didn't you hear me? Send. Me. Home. Right now." The words are accented by a childish foot stomp which does nothing but make Gunnar grin. Sexy crinkles form around the edges of his eyes. "Damn it!"

With the gentle pressure of his hand on my back, he steers me into the bedroom. "Dove, you'll find nightwear in the dresser. If you choose to use it." Was that a wink just now? "I'll be across the hall if you need anything. At any time of the night." Turning, he quietly shuts the door behind him.

"Grrr!" I stomp my foot on the low-pile berber carpet, and examine my surroundings. My anger and irritation refuse to die out. "Hell. Stuck here with a maniac. With any luck I'll wake up and be where I'm supposed to be. Wherever the hell that is. If I'm not dead." Why can't I have a normal vacation?

For a few moments I wander aimlessly around the room, making a mental note of things I hadn't noticed after my shower. A glass full of water and a pitcher on one of the nightstands. The small vase of brilliant yellow daffodils on the other one. My favorite flower. Daffodils in August? Isn't it late in the season for them? How did he know about daffodils?

Suddenly, the day has become too much. Whatever Gunnar is, he's right about one thing. I'm bone tired, despite all the naps I apparently took today. The bed looks soft and warm and inviting. It's large, too. It's been turned down, the linens crisp and fresh beneath a cozy white comforter with red outlines of poppies. A stack of pillows which could have been mistaken for fluffy white clouds call to me. I give the man props for providing an awesome bed. Better than being shackled in a dank, rat-infested dungeon during my captivity. Or whatever the hell this is.

Stripping my clothes off, I toss them onto a chair next to the dresser. Thankfully the room is on the cool side so I won't be too warm when I snuggle into the bed. A navy blue tank top I found in the dresser is all I plan to sleep in. Nightgowns and pajamas aren't my thing. I hate the way they tangle around my legs like a bed of sea kelp.