She wished she had a little makeup. Her eyelashes were long and dark naturally, and God knows her eyes were shadowed enough right now without more help, but she’d let her eyebrows get thicker during her flight. Gil never liked them that way, despite the fashion shifting in favor of thicker brows. Gil had preferred a more delicate look.
But some cover-up, blush and lipstick would have been great right about now.
She hadn’t felt the urge to primp in such a long time. It was so different, with Nate behind those doors. She’d made an effort for Gil, certainly, but always with a sinking sense her best efforts would never be enough. Gil had never been pleased.
But Nate was. Intensely pleased, even when she did nothing in particular. And right now, he was out there, helping her while she snoozed and washed and anointed herself with scented lotion and scrubbed her teeth with minty toothpaste.
It felt sensual, and self-indulgent, being naked, with Nate right behind that door. Breathless anticipation built inside her.
She pulled on Nate’s T-shirt. It was black, and it was huge. It draped off her shoulders and hung down to mid-thigh. Which was lucky, since she’d taken the opportunity to wash out her one pair of underwear in the shower, as one did when on the run. It was now hanging on the heated towel rack to dry.
She was utterly bare down there, and intensely aware of it. Nate had said that sex wasn’t part of the equation, but that was bullshit. He’d showed her how good it could be. He’d let that genie out of the bottle, and he’d set the bar unimaginably high.
Now, he just had to deal with what he had created.
The floor planks in the bedroom were exquisitely smooth and cool against her bare feet as she went to the door and leaned on the doorframe.
She instantly recognized the video Nate was examining. It was the third of the TV interviews, the last one in which Josh appeared. She’d caught it in a motel lobby TV near Spokane. By now, she’d seen it hundreds of times. She knew every second of it.
In this video, Josh sat with his arms folded on the desk, and Gil stood behind him, his hands on Josh’s shoulders. An attractive redheaded journalist conducted the interview. She was simpering and flirting, not that Elisa blamed the woman. Gil’s manner was very charming and seductive. At least at first.
“…such a comfort,” Gil said. “Like he’s my own brother, and the only one who knows how special and unique Louisa is. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Elisa was motionless, and didn’t make a sound, but Nate must have sensed the stifled rage Gil’s words ignited inside her. He turned and looked at her, and then glanced back to the laptop to pause the video. “Hey, you,” he said. “Good nap?”
“Must have been,” she said. “I don’t remember any of it. Not even any nightmares, which is unusual for me these days. How long was I out?”
“Must be about ten hours.”
She gasped. “Holy crap, I’m sorry! You should have woken me up!”
“Hell, no,” he said. “I was glad. You needed that sleep. Don’t feel guilty. You have to power down regularly. It’s not a selfish thing to do, just practical.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ve ever slept that long in my life. Certainly not since my troubles began.” She snorted. “Which is to say, the day I got engaged.”
His eyes flicked down over her body. Her awareness of her nakedness beneath the T-shirt intensified. “You’ve been watching these interviews the whole time?”
“I’ve watched everything the guy ever said that was archived online,” Nate said. “There’s a fuckton of it. The dude loves the sound of his own voice.”
“That’s the truth.” She gestured toward the screen. “Let the video finish.”
Nate tapped the touchscreen. “…you could say anything to your sister, what would it be?” the interviewer asked Josh, a soulful look on her eyes.
Josh’s face tightened, and he slapped his chest with his hand. “I just miss you so much, Lu,” he said, his voice shaky. “I’m just sitting here, night and day, doing my videogame geekwad thing a thousand times over. I’m sick of riding hograts through the desert. Come save me from this hole in the ground. I’m waiting, Lu.”
The camera cut back to the interviewer’s sympathetic face. “We’re all waiting,” she said, in that ‘wrap-it-up’ voice. “No one more than these two, but they’re not giving up hope. Because hope never dies—not when love is concerned.”
“It’s hard to listen to that bullshit,” Nate said when the video ended.
“Yes. Gil can project this incredible glow when he wants to,” Elisa said. “He seems so sincere and principled, but he’d tear out your entrails if it suited his purposes.”
“I want to rip his face off whenever he opens his mouth,” Nate said.
Elisa sat down on the couch, close enough to see the laptop screen, and discreetly tugged the bottom of the T-shirt around her thighs.
“How did you end up in Shaw’s Crossing, when you ran?” he asked. “It’s not on the way to anywhere. Except for camping, fishing, hunting, rock-climbing.”
“I went there once as a kid,” she said. “I did a summer camp program there. It was a wonderful summer. Joshie was there, too. I had happy memories.”
“He looks a lot like you,” he said.
She stared down at frozen image on the screen with a bitter laugh. “Yeah, we both have that pale, haunted look right now. He’s nine years younger than me. He was four when our mom died, so I became his mom. As best I could.”
“So you know him better than anyone,” Nate said.
“You could say that,” she agreed.
“He looks like a smart kid.”
“Absolutely brilliant,” Elisa said. “He gets that from Dad. Dad was a software engineering genius. Lucky Josh, that he inherited a talent Dad could appreciate.”
Nate nodded as he digested that. “Hmm. So, if he’s smart, then Josh wouldn’t be one to pass up an opportunity, would you say?”
“What opportunity do you mean?” she asked.
“What he said in that video,” Nate said slowly, still staring at the screen. “It’s strangely worded. It sounds forced. It could just mean he’s tense and miserable and nothing comes naturally. Or it could be…something.”
She was sitting bolt upright. “Something, meaning what?”
Nate dragged the video back to the point where Josh was talking, and set it to play. “Is there anything about the way he speaks, the gestures he’s making, or the words he chooses, that seems out of character for you?”
“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “All of it is strange and stiff and off-kilter. He’s a prisoner, after all. He’s speaking under duress.”
“What exactly seems off-kilter?”
“Well, there’s his tone. It sounds so flat. And the shirt he’s wearing. He’s worn that same shirt in every single video, and it looks stained. Josh is a neatnik, ever since he was little. A total hygiene freak. He always grooms himself carefully. But in this last video, he looks greasy, unshaved, uncombed. I figured he was just depressed.”
“I’m sure he is,” Nate said. “And I can well imagine that they wouldn’t give him access to razor blades.”
He hit ‘play,’ and Josh’s dull, droning tone sounded, so different from his usual lively way of speaking. “I miss you so much, Lu—”
The recording froze, and she heard a click as Nate screenshot it.
“Right there,” he said. “When he hits his chest. Is that something that he does usually? A nervous habit, a tic, something like that?”
“Not that I recall,” she said.
“So that could be something. The shirt?” He enlarged the screenshot, and both of them studied the blurry image on Josh’s chest, which appeared to be some sort of winged creature, like a dragon. One silvery wing was visible. The top part of some letters showed, and a circle of sunset colors behind. “An S, an H, an A, then either a P or an R, and a D or a B. R, for sure,” Nate said, as if talking to himself. “Shards
. I think he’s wearing a Shards Of Ruin T-shirt. It’s a popular video game. Ring any bells?”
“I never really paid attention to Josh’s video games,” she said. “They mostly rolled right off my consciousness without sticking.”
“Shards of Ruin,” Nate said thoughtfully. “There was some buzz about that game. I saw the ads for it. It was big in the indie game scene about a year ago. Good graphics, huge landscape, lots of interactive storylines. So Josh games?”
“Heavily,” she said. “It always worried me.”
Nate pulled up a fresh screen and called up information about Shards of Ruin, and scrolled through it, looking at the images. “They mention hograts in the reviews,” he said. “Josh refers to hograts in in the video. A hograt is one of the mounts that you can choose for your missions in the game.”
She could hardly breathe. “You think that Josh mentioning hograts in that interview could be some kind of a…some kind of coded message to me?”
“Could be,” he said. “That’s what I’d do, if I were him.”
“Oh God. Oh God, play it again.” Her voice shook.
They listened to the whole clip once again, all the way to the conclusion. “…sick of riding hograts through the desert,” Josh said. “Come save me from this hole in the ground. I’m waiting, Lu.”
They were silent after the clip ended, lost in thought.
“It’s an invitation,” Nate said slowly. “Or it could be. He invites you to pay attention. He points at the image on the shirt, which he wears in all three interviews, even though it’s dirty. He mentions the hograt, the desert, the hole in the ground. He tells you to save him.”
She tried to answer, but her throat was shaking too hard to get any sound out.
“It’s just a theory,” he said. “But let’s definitely go to the nearest electronics store as soon as it opens up tomorrow and get a game console and a copy of Shards of Ruin. We’ll check it out. How about ‘geekwad?’ Mean anything to you?”
“He calls himself that when I tease him about gaming,” she whispered.
“Could it be his gamer handle?” Nate asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I have no idea. I didn’t see it. Didn’t even think of it. God, how could I have been so stupid? Not to even consider that?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said swiftly. “You’re not stupid! I’m just brainstorming. We should follow up, but don’t get your hopes up. I could be completely off base.”
Elisa bent over and put her head between her knees, trying to breathe.
“What’s the matter?” He leaned over her, stroking her back.
“I’m just…not used to hope,” she whispered. “It’s making me kind of sick.”
“I get that,” Nate said, leaving his hand on her shoulder. “Hope is scary.”
They sat there in the darkness. Nate waited patiently for her to get her face under control, saying nothing. She finally forced herself to sit up, wiping her eyes.
“Josh was always perfectly dressed,” she told him. “He kept his hair super short because he didn’t like the curls. He wore crisp white shirts. He ironed his jeans. He like his shoes to be clean. Seeing him so disheveled made me afraid he was falling to pieces. And maybe he was just trying to communicate with me all along.”
“So? Now you heard him. You’re listening. That’s all good. That’s progress,” Nate encouraged. “Tomorrow we’ll find out more. This is all great news.”
She looked at the clock on the laptop screen. “You’ve been working on this ever since I conked out?”
“I was on a roll,” he admitted. “I got Mace and the others working on it, too. Fiona sends her love, by the way. She’s going to kick your ass for not telling her about all this sooner, but she still sends her love.”
“Oh. You told them everything?”
“Of course.” He dared her with his eyes to argue about it. “Another set of eyes is great. Another six sets of eyes is six times better.”
“I didn’t want them burdened by my problems.”
Nate’s face was stony. “Tough. It’s my problem now, too. I want to flatten this guy, and we need all the help we can get to make that happen.”
“You must be exhausted,” she said.
“Anything that concerns you keeps me wide awake,” he admitted.
“Oh. Um…thanks,” she murmured.
Silence fell again, but it had changed in an instant. She was constantly aware of him physically, but the heat suddenly rushed to the foreground. The air charged with breathless electricity.
“By the way, thanks for the T-shirt.” She plucked at the soft fabric.
His gaze roved over her body. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”
“Yeah? I’m swimming in it.” She smiled. “And your shirts look damn good on you.”
“Nope, you win,” he insisted. “No contest.”
She had to seize this opportunity, while she felt this way. Right now. While she had the chance. Tomorrow was not promised. Nothing was guaranteed.
She stood up. “There’s one way to find out.” She peeled the shirt off and tossed it to him. He caught it one-handed. “Let’s see who wears it best.”
His eyes widened. He was silent for a long, breathless moment.
“Whoa,” he said hesitantly. “I did not see that coming.”
“Call it a surprise ambush.” She stepped closer, to feel his heat, the solid bulk of his body, and those dark, brilliant eyes, fixed on her like he was drinking her up. She kept her chin up and her shoulders back. “So? Let’s settle this here and now.”
“I hate to put the brakes on,” he said reluctantly. “But I have to find some more condoms. I didn’t have a chance to do that today. With one thing and another.”
“Actually,” she murmured. “I’ve had a blood test since I’ve been in Shaw’s Crossing. And I still have a contraceptive implant. It should still be good. So? You?”
His eyes widened. “Whoa,” he said. “I can guarantee you that I’m clean. I’ve been tested since the last time I’ve been with anyone. But are you sure?”
She smiled. “Absolutely,” she said.
Nate stripped off his shirt, grinning. And like the last time he’d taken off his clothes, his naked torso threw her into a state of confusion. He was just so freaking gorgeous. It was too much.
“So?” he prompted. “Now what? I am yours to command.”
“Damn.” She pressed her hands to his hot chest, feeling the shape of the steely muscle below. Swaying forward until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. “I, ah, forgot what we were talking about.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Good. Then let’s get right to it.”
Pleasure welled up, from a hidden, secret place inside her. It was a wonderful contradiction, to be held so tightly she could hardly breathe, and yet his wild, frantic kiss made her feel free.
Past and future, gone. Fear gone. She was a flame twisting in his arms.
His lips moved over hers, tasting, exploring. His hands slid down her back, gripping her ass. Lifting her so that her mound pressed the hard bulge in his pants.
She wound her legs around his, and without pulling away, she went at his belt buckle. Nate helped with the belt, shoving his pants down and stepping out of them.
Her feet left the floor. He’d swooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his hard chest. The contact felt electric. The taste of him, the delicate flick of his tongue against hers. Desire swelled in her body like an orchestra’s crescendo.
Nate set her down on her feet just long enough to pull the blanket down. Then her back hit the cool sheets, and his hot body covered hers. He kept his weight off her, but she pushed against him, arching as he pushed her legs open and petted her pussy lips with his fingertips. It was already slick and yielding. Ready. Aching for him.
He slid his fingers into her clinging depths with a ragged groan, thrusting and caressing. “So hot,” he moaned. “Slick and tight. You’re killing me.”
“Now,” she whispered into his ears, dragging him closer. “Right now. Do it.”
“We just got started,” he protested. “I can’t just jump on top of you and go for it. You’re small. Tight. You need lots of lube. Lots of orgasms, before I get inside you.”
She canted her hips, winding her legs around his and reached down to grip his stiff cock, twisting her hand in a seductive, pulling stroke. “Save your fancy technique for later,” she said. “I need you inside right now or I’ll start clawing you.”
His chest vibrated with silent laughter. “I hear and obey,” he said, positioning himself over her, shaking with the effort at self-control.
He gripped his cock in his hand, sliding the blunt glans tenderly up and down her pussy lips and making himself gleaming wet and slippery. Petting her clit and circling it, tenderly around and around and around it, like a tender lick. The world narrowed down to the dark room, the sounds of their ragged breathing, her low, whimpering gasps as he caressed her, making her arch and buck against him.
Finally, he gave it to her, surging inside with exquisite slowness. Rocking, slowly. Gliding in her slick heat. “Oh yeah,” he gasped out. “So hot. So good.”
She just clutched his shoulders as they found that perfect dance. Deep, gliding thrusts stroked all her sweet spots and woke up new ones everywhere. Every sensual thrust felt like both a perfect culmination and a maddening prelude for the next.
He reared up, head thrown back, his body pumping into hers. She squeezed him with her twined legs, her nails digging into his chest. They both gasped for air at the slick thrusts, the wild rhythm that propelled them into an explosion of pleasure.
Later, she stirred, stroking his chest. Enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. Warm, soft, floating. Utterly weightless.
They gazed into each other’s eyes, speechless. Astonished. She couldn’t stop stroking him. His chest, his heartbeat. Every detail of his gorgeous face. The bold dark slash of his heavy eyebrows, the wonder in his dark eyes. Like she was the most fascinating, desirable thing he’d ever seen.
It was so sweet. She could get used to that.
The fleeting thought gave her a twinge of panic. The thought of getting used to anything presupposed a future. She hadn’t let herself think of the future for a very long time. She hadn’t dared. She still couldn’t. She was dangling by a thread.
Heedless: The Hellbound Brotherhood Book Four Page 12
