Her muscles pulsed as they eased up. The toe Hamid had stomped on throbbed double time, at least eclipsing the pain from the other.
Sometime last night she’d awoken on her back, Flynn’s forearm heavy on her belly, his hand curled around the side of her waist, his stubbly cheek against her shoulder. It would have been so easy to turn into him so their bodies were flush together and hunker down into a place of refuge. When she was single, that was what she missed most—the physical contact. Yes, she missed sex, but it was plain old touch she ached for—a strong, rough man’s body cocooning hers. That was when she felt safest, when she felt loved, when it felt like nothing could sneak in to destroy her happiness. It wasn’t even necessarily about being in love. Had she ever been in love with Kurt? Or just in love with the idea of him, the fantasy that it might actually work out, despite her misgivings?
Behind her, the mattress shifted as Flynn lowered onto it. His body grazed her spine, then settled, his warmth radiating into her. He had to be half an inch away, at most. She risked a peek. His body mirrored hers, facing the opposite wall, spooning air. She nestled down and ordered her eyes to close. She could still steal comfort from the pinpricks of electricity heating her back. It seemed impossible that a body so warm, so alive could be so...not, in a matter of days. Hours, perhaps. Hamid said she’d kidnapped him to be a double act with Tess. Another life on her conscience.
Even with him there, sleep didn’t come. Ten, twenty minutes later she remained rigidly awake, her thoughts pushing into ever darker places. She sighed.
“This is stupid,” he said huskily. She sensed him rolling over. He propped himself up on an elbow. “We’re lying here like corpses.”
“Did you just say ‘corpses’?”
“Okay, not the best word choice. Point is that I can’t sleep like this and neither can you. Come here.”
Without waiting for a reply, he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her in until his chest skimmed her back. Shock waves of awareness buzzed into her stomach. She caught her breath. That shouldn’t feel so good.
“Relax,” he said, skating a hand down her arm. “I’m not hitting on you. Priority one is to get some rest, and this way we can both be comfortable. I’m just glad I didn’t get chucked in here with a guy.”
Mercifully, he kept his hips away from her butt—that kind of contact would not be conducive to sleep. She forced herself to inhale deeply. On the exhalation, she let her body settle into his. Something nudged her hair—his nose? Oh man, lips?
“Better, huh?” he whispered. Yep, his lips. Better, yes. And so much worse.
“Yeah,” she said, high-pitched and wooden. “That’s fine.” Idiot.
Just take the respite. Last night was a godsend, but this was a gift straight from him—offered, not stolen. And despite her instinct blinking neon warnings, she genuinely liked this prickly, brazen guy—maybe a little too much.
Outside, something banged. She tensed. He squeezed her forearm and they waited in silence. Nothing.
“Don’t worry, sunshine. We’ll be out of here as soon as that hatch opens tonight. Meantime, I’ve got your back.”
Right now, she’d let herself believe it.
* * *
Flynn waited until near darkness to thread the first length of electrical cord through the gap in the floorboards for the first of his handholds. He’d coated it with mud but the white would still glow through, catching any light that passed. Still, the guards seemed confident about the security of their prison—boots crossed over the boards just once every hour.
Apart from the odd shout or footfall outside, the only sounds for the past thirty minutes had been him scrambling around and Tess’s steady breath. Her curled shape on the mattress was melting into black, with just her hair still picking up the light. He’d let her rest as long as possible. With injured feet, she’d have a hard enough time keeping up.
Hell, how long since he’d had an encounter like that with a woman? Gentle and innocent—except for the dirty thoughts running through his head. For nearly ten years his few relationships had been short-term and only about sex. In one fling, with a Canadian tourist, he’d pretended he didn’t speak English to avoid conversation. Yep, he was that much of a lowlife. Stick around and they’d start asking questions.
The last time he’d stuck with a woman—with a journalist—too long, she’d torn his life apart. The bitch had pretended to be into him just long enough to paste his face and whereabouts all over the media, leaving him no choice but to leave Australia. Oh yeah, he’d learned his lesson, about journalists and women.
He twisted the cord and tried to angle it to fall over the gap on the other side of the board, so he could pull it through and secure it. Bugger, this would take more time and effort than he’d budgeted. He was fast running out of light, and his head wound pulsed every time he looked up. He made himself breathe—in, out, in, out. At least the pain in his ribs had eased.
After ten minutes he took a break and a handful of painkillers. On his next attempt, success. The cord flipped into the right spot and he used Tess’s tweezers to grip the loose wires and urge them to a point he could grab them. He pulled both ends tight and tied them, then swung on the cord, tentatively lifting his feet off the floor. It held. Sweet.
With the scissors, he sawed off another length of cord at the point it disappeared between the rocks. It was shorter—just enough for a second handhold. Threading it through would be even more of a bitch than the first.
Tess shifted. Mate, the light had fallen fast. This was taking too long. If the soldier returned before he was ready, his plan was screwed. He tucked the cord under his arm and crouched over Tess, his fingers finding her neck, then navigating to the safer territory of her shoulder. He gently shook it.
“Tess, wake up.”
She groaned and sat. He kept his hand on her. Maybe because he didn’t want her getting disorientated. Maybe because the smooth curve of her shoulder felt good. With his other hand he searched for the open bottle of water.
“It’s dark,” she said.
“Ready to bust out? Here, have a drink.” He let his hand fall to the middle of her back while she gulped. “Can you get your boots on?”
“Maybe, if I strip down the bandages on my toes. It’ll be...tight.”
“Leave them off for now. Put them in your backpack—it’s leaning on the mattress. I’ve packed it. You might have to take out one of the water bottles—I’ve stuffed in as many as can fit.” She’d run faster in socks, if she could run at all. He’d have to steal a vehicle.
“What’s your plan?”
“Get us above ground.”
“And then?”
“Wing it.”
Her silence told him everything about her faith in that.
“Sunshine, winging it is what I do best.”
Anything was better than sitting down here, rotting. He got back to work on his handholds, giving her his watch so she could direct its light up. Even the faint blue glow cast shadows.
