The lobby in the hotel was empty save for a bored receptionist, who barely looked awake. He wrinkled his nose when my stench reached him, but when he realized I was the source, he quickly smoothed his expression and produced the room key card, though his eyes watered up.
Logan urged me to proceed to the room while he had some words with the receptionist. I wanted—needed—a shower.
I left my duffle unperturbed where it sat by the closet and went straight to the bathroom, not wanting to taint any clean clothes with the stench wafting from me like heat waves off hot asphalt. It was bad enough that my clothes and new coat were going to the garbage bin.
I took the longest, hottest shower of my life. I scrubbed, soaped and scrubbed and soaped again after I washed and conditioned my hair twice,
