by Kylie Scott
“Oh. Well, I already took care of it,” she admitted.
His green eyes hardened, lips flat lined. “Al…”
“I think we have a decent water supply. The tank seems to run in to the laundry.” She waved a hand in its direction, a blatant bit of distraction. Who had the energy for subtlety? There was no softening of his glare. “Don’t go there, Finn. I was careful. It needed to be done. You needed to rest.”
The man raised a knee, draped an arm over it. It had the feel of another cop thing, the silence and watchfulness as he waited for her to stumble into his trap. He observed her, elegant face cool and composed despite the dirt and stubble.
Two months ago, his level of scrutiny would have shaken her down to her shoes.
Now, not so much.
Things took on a different perspective when you knew what real fear was. A good cop face wouldn’t send her running for cover anytime soon.
“Do you have a spare shirt I could borrow? I want to give my clothes a wash while we have the chance.” Ali stood, brushed off her hands and butt. Like a few specks of dirt would make an imprint on top of everything else they’d been subjected to. “Anything you want done?”
“Laundry wise?”
“Yes, laundry wise.” She needed to keep busy, keep her hands occupied.
Ali wandered over to the basin, said a silent prayer and pushed in a plug. Slowly, she turned the tap. There came a trickle of rust-colored water. A dirty dribble could be accounted to water sitting in the system, nothing to get excited about yet.
She turned the knob farther. Oh, yes. Out it came. Stupidly, her eyes welled. Daniel was missing, and she was crying over running water. How messed up. Everything inside her had been rewired wrong.
Her entire life, running water had worked just fine, her love life, not so much. Where was the balance? It served her right for letting Daniel be her crutch. Now her weak knees were quaking.
Running water didn’t begin to fix the wrongs. But, it did give her hands something to do. A bar of old yellow soap, cracked with age, sat on the sink just waiting for her. She set to it with a vengeance.
Ali scrubbed her arms and hands, built up a lather to attack her face. The need to get the grime was all consuming. When he walked in, she would be waiting, in one piece, not looking as if she had been rolling in mud.
Fuck no, she would pretty herself up for her man. Hope was a sly bitch.
Strands of hair stuck to her wet face and Finn’s hands were there, pulling them back. He resurrected her ponytail. She could feel the warmth of him at her back, not quite touching, but near enough to soothe and scare.
She wanted Daniel, and she wanted to feel safe. These days, she wanted all sorts of shit she couldn’t have.
Finn took a step back and she breathed easier.
“I get that you needed to do it. Just wake me next time. You can’t go out on your own, Al.”
“Shit. I’ve got soap in my eyes.” Ali fumbled around for the threadbare hand towel that had been hanging from a hook beside the trough. “Damn it.”
“Hang on.”
Something soft and dry dabbed at her face. She dared blinking. That was one thing that hadn’t changed—getting soap in your eyes still sucked. “Thank you.”
Finn’s face was solemn, mouth set and eyes decades older than they should have been. His gaze made her feel juvenile, foolish. Like she had hurt him somehow, disappointed him.
Making the mad dash outside had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Why did she feel yet more guilt creeping up on her?
“What sign did you put out there?”
“Oh, it’s subtle. Don’t worry.” Her eyes were hot, stinging from more than suds. Ali scrubbed the soap off her face, searched for a distraction to stop the tears. Every damn subject felt razor-edged. “Thanks.”
Finn tipped his chin, accepting the meager show of gratitude. “You’re welcome.”
It was wildly insufficient on her part, and she admitted it. “For everything, I mean. In case I haven’t mentioned it before. You’ve been … amazing, Finn. Really.”
Finn nodded again, set the requested t-shirt aside. His face was calm but somber, lips slightly parted and eyes full of concern. She blinked back tears like crazy, refusing to let them show. As if he was fooled.
Not even a little.
He was no more fooled than embarrassed. “You need to be more careful, Al.”
“I know. I understand.”
“Good. Because you need to give me the opportunity to watch your back. You need to trust me.” And then he turned his back, gave her a chance to shut down the waterworks. What a gentleman. After a moment or so he cleared his throat, giving her warning. “How about you wash my back and I’ll do yours. Deal?”
“How about I clean yours up, and help put on a new bandage. Deal?”
He gave a gruff nod and showed her his back.
The intimacy of it unnerved her. So, she talked. “When I ran into Daniel I had been hiding in a neighbor’s roof for months. No baths.”
“So I’m getting off easy?”
“I was … fragrant, let’s leave it at that. Once upon a time, I never bathed with veritable strangers at all.” The smile felt awkward, strained.
“Small-minded of you. There’s nothing wrong with sharing a shower with new friends.” He flashed her a grin as he glanced back over his shoulder. There and gone in a moment.
“You know, the Japanese have public bath houses, have done for centuries,” he continued on when she failed to pick up the thread of the conversation.
“I don’t believe the men and women actually mix in those.” Ali rubbed her hand against the slab of soap, working up a lather for round two. “I’ll get the dried blood off your back while you tell me sordid tales of your youth.”
“I have two older sisters. My adventures couldn’t even begin to compete.”
“I’m sure you underestimate yourself.”
He flashed his teeth again.
“So you were the baby of the family.” She ran her fingers over his back, aiming for impersonal. She rubbed at the build-up of blood and dirt. Reddish-brown soap bubbles trailed down his spine, soaked into the top of his low-slung jeans. Her throat closed at the sight of the bloody gash in his shoulder. A hand-span lower and the bullet would have killed him. No Finn. The thought of it had her tearing up once more. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m fine.”
“Got some hard evidence to the contrary back here.” Her voice wavered. Damn it.
The look he gave her over his shoulder made no sense but it froze her in place. Finn held her gaze for a long moment. And then turned away. Said nothing.
She had no idea what it meant. Her hands hovered, hesitating, waiting for enlightenment. He kept his face averted. “Finn?”
“We should eat soon.”
“Okay,” she agreed, letting it drop.
He nodded. Mission accomplished apparently, whatever the mission had been.
She couldn’t read him for shit. Then again, she’d always been clueless when it came to the other sex. Men were complicated. Straightforward one minute and riddles the next. It irked the crap out of her. In the face of her new upfront and open frame of mind, she wasn’t letting it go after all. “Finn, what was that?”
“What?”
“The look.”
“Nothing.” His tone of voice firm and flat.
Okey dokey. Apparently she hadn’t grown enough to chase it down. Awkward feelings flooded her.
“It’s a good thing you had antibiotics,” she said. An innocuous enough topic, surely.
“Got the bag of wonders.”
“Yes.” She offered him a smile. He looked over his shoulder and almost returned it. The corner of his mouth hesitated at the last. “Your bag of wonders rocks, I must say.”
“Personal preparedness. I was a Scout.” He braced his arms on the edge of the basin and dropped his head forward. She scrubbed at his back and neck, gently pushing her finger
s into solid muscle. “Can you do it harder?” he asked.
“Sure.” She dug in, keeping a safe distance from his shoulder, wanting to soothe, not harm. From her, it was the least he deserved.
“Where was your family?”
“Down south. We grew up on one of the Northern Beaches, running wild half the time. I don’t know how Mum put up with us.” The strong column of his neck tensed beneath her fingers. The warmth in his voice when he talked about his family made her heart ache. They had obviously been close, something she had never quite managed.
“How long have you been with him?” he enquired. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“No, I don’t mind. Only a couple of days, though it feels longer. Things work differently now, don’t they?”
“Times of war, the rules change.”
“War … I guess that’s one way to put it.” Her eyes bored into the back door. If she stared long and hard enough then magic might happen. Bullshit. Daniel would make it. He would.
And what the hell would he see when he walked in? Her fingers flinched back from Finn, covered in suds. “Wet the towel for me so I can clean you off, please.”
He did as asked.
“So, do I want to know what you saw when you were watching us?”
“I don’t know, Al. Do you?” He watched her over his shoulder, something akin to amusement lighting the pale green of his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched.
The tease.
“No. No, I don’t. Forget I asked.” Heat swept her face. He handed her a wet cloth, and she washed off his back as carefully as possible, sopping up all of the gray suds. “Can I get to the water, please?”
“Let’s see … You two fight. A lot.” He turned to face her, blocking her way with his arms crossed over his chest. “Opposites attract, I guess.”
“That would be it.”
“Sucked when I dropped the night-vision goggles. Smashed the lenses. I had to go by guesswork after that…”
Her jaw fell. “You did not have night-vision goggles. Pervert.”
The elegant face gave away nothing. He was fibbing. Had to be.
Suddenly a dimple flashed, he shrugged his shoulders. “Be fair. Without TV what was I supposed to do for entertainment?”
“Aren’t you funny?” She bumped her hip against his. “I know you’re lying.”
“Do you?”
“Yep.”
“Alright then. I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable about any lewd, unnatural acts I might have witnessed.”
“I think I liked you better without a sense of humor.” The clean, if threadbare, hand towel would do fine for washing them off. “Turn around, please.”
He did so without further comment. Thank God.
And he couldn’t have seen anything. Jerk.
With gentle strokes, she washed off his back, wary of touching his wound. “You’re good to go. Got more bandages?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What about your back?”
“I haven’t been shot lately.”
“I’m not trying anything, Al. Let me wash your back. Consider it a stress remedy.”
“Wow, that offer isn’t dubious in the least. I’m fine.”
A sly sort of mirth lit his eyes. “Are you? Or are you … a chicken?”
She laughed, delighted at the unexpected silliness. Amazed to be feeling anything at all. “Bawk, bawk, bawk.”
Childish sniggering ensued until a loud crash from upstairs stopped them cold.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Finn watched her in silence.
They sat in the parked car inside the garage passing a can of chicken soup back and forth, along with bottles of lukewarm beer. It was the car seats or the concrete. Most of their clothes were scattered over a wire rack, drying.
She didn’t speak, so neither did he.
He watched her watching the door. She barely even blinked.
He could almost feel her hope waning. There was no point cracking bad jokes now to try and make her smile. He had done his fair share of delivering bad news. Between confirmed death and missing persons, the latter was the cruelest.
“Al.” He nudged her elbow with the beer bottle and she started. Enough to let him know her thoughts had been a million miles away from the dodgy Datsun with the mission brown interior.
A billion miles away from him.
“Thanks.” With an ever-present hand at the bottom of her t-shirt, the only item of clothing on her, Al accepted the bottle and took a swig.
There was a lot of skin on display next to him. Who’d have known that beneath those jeans her legs were so long? She had the nicest curves. He tried not to enjoy them, given what she was going through, but it wasn’t easy to keep his mind off track. Those legs, and the way her knees kept rubbing together, came close to causing him pain, especially knowing she wore nothing underneath the shirt.
Not a damn thing. He knew it for a fact. Just like there had been nothing under her dirty jeans, hence the hand on the hem.
Her confidence in him keeping his back turned while she bathed was sweet but misplaced. Each tug on the shirt’s hem seemed to ramp up the heat in the airless garage a bit more, for him at least. She remained oblivious. It frustrated the shit out of him but then, that was the situation, wasn’t it? Shit.
There was only one spare pair of boxer briefs in the bag and he wore them. All other assorted items of clothing had been washed and hung up to dry. Not that he hadn’t offered her the boxers. He was comfortable with nudity. Guess she wasn’t. Guess maybe it was insensitive on his part to let his thoughts dwell in that direction. Again.
He never had been good at going without sex. Previously, there had never been a need to. Nearly nine weeks into the celibate lifestyle, and he found it as overrated as getting shot had been.
“It’ll be dark soon,” she said. Her voice sounded smaller each time she spoke, making him wonder how long till it disappeared entirely.
“Yeah.”
“Daniel will find somewhere safe to hole up for the night.”
He didn’t answer. She’d said it more for her benefit than his.
She passed back the bottle of beer and he drained it, put it aside and twisted the cap off number five of the rapidly diminishing six-pack.
The owners might have had dubious taste in vehicles, but he could only applaud their priorities in packing the brew. It had been a shit of a day, well worth throwing back a couple.
The edge of gold around the door was fading, the shadows growing. He could do nothing for her but be there and wait this out. He couldn’t leave her alone. He would never leave her alone.
But the days of being able to fix something were gone. There wasn’t a chance he could salvage this. It was one more loss amongst so many.
At least she was alive, safe beside him. Protected.
Upstairs, the infected moaned, growing agitated as night set in.
The rat-a-tat-tat on the door seemed part of it at first. Just more of the dragging footsteps from overhead and a “ker-thunk” as something hit the floor. It all blended for him. But Al was up and running, the length of the t-shirt forgotten in her dash to get at the door.
“Daniel.”
“Al, wait!” He freed his gun as she did likewise the locks, throwing open the door to all comers. Adrenalin surged through him with fury hot behind it. She’d get them killed for sure this time.
Al launched herself at the tall figure waiting on the other side.
Disappointment had a taste, and it sat on the back of his tongue, hot and sour as acid, making him sick. He truly fucking hated himself for feeling it. No one had canceled Christmas. A man had survived. Bad had been trampled. Al’s heart remained unbroken.
This was a good thing. A good thing. Yeah.
He just needed a minute to catch his breath and find his happy face.
Dan appeared none the worse for wear. He shuffle-stepped her backward, sparing a hand to close and lock the door while she clung to him.
With the shirt riding up he got a great view of Dan’s hands clapped over the curves of her bare ass cheeks. The man murmured to her, soft and low, over and over, “I know. I know. I know…”
“You made it,” Finn said. Lame as it was, it was the best he could do without actually lying.
For some reason, he didn’t want to lie.
Dan nodded. Nothing needed to be said. And Finn didn’t need to see the understanding in the man’s face. Anger would have been easier to take.
Simpler.
He flicked the safety on his gun, pointed it elsewhere.
“Lose something, baby?” A piece of black fabric hung from one of Daniel’s fingers, dangling against the back of Al’s thigh. Dan raised the black fabric high above her head, and she set her chin on his chest, peered skyward. “Finders keepers.”
Finn had to squint and take a step closer to make them out in the fading light. But yes, they had a winner. Daniel had found Al’s panties.
Finn’s sense of humor, however, had long gone. “You risked your life to hang underwear off the mailbox? This is what you couldn’t wait till I was awake to do? Fucksake, Al.”
“Actually, it was the shrub beside the mailbox, discreetly positioned unless you knew what you were after,” Dan explained, dangling the item higher when Al took the bait and made a grab for them. “I knew what I was after.”
“This was the agreed upon sign?” Finn asked in a brutally tight voice. No point hiding his ire now. These two were all loved up and he was on the outer, the audience, not required. No one was interested in his mood or his issues.
“Not exactly, needing a sign hadn’t occurred to us. We weren’t planning on getting separated. I guess that was short-sighted.” Daniel planted a kiss on her forehead, ignoring her grasping arm. “Mmm, you smell of soap, all shiny and fresh. Me, on the other hand…”
The big guy slowly eased his shirt up. “Shit. That hurts.”
“There’s water for washing,” she said. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Bumped into something. Gonna have some beautiful bruises tomorrow.”
“How bad, Dan?” Ali gave up on the attempt at grabbing and held out her hand with all due decorum. “My underwear, please. I’m done with flashing for the day.”
