Cold fury rose up within me and seeped right into my bones. Men who hit women were the lowest of low. There was a special place in hell for SOBs like Lex.
“I can walk,” she said, reminding me that I asked a question.
“Come on,” I said, tucking my arm around her waist. She stiffened and I moved to pull back, but her hand caught mine and pulled it back around her.
She looked up, giving me a sheepish look. “You’re warm.”
My lip lifted in half a smile and then I stopped. I was an ass. I pulled my arms free and quickly pulled off my jacket. “Here,” I said, wrapping it around her.
She sighed like she was in heaven and pushed her arms through. I tried not to be endeared by the fact that the sleeves hung well past her hands, but a guy could only withstand so much.
I reached between us and fumbled with the zipper, finally getting it to catch and then sliding it up right beneath her chin. The black fleece swallowed her whole.
It was cute as hell.
“Come on,” I said gruffly, not really knowing how a woman I just met could climb under my skin so fast.
I told myself it was her bravery, her willingness to fight for her life.
But really, I think it had more to do with how she felt fitted against my side.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” The fear in her voice made her sound vulnerable.
“If he does, I’ll kill him.” The words weren’t meant to make her feel better. Those words were the truth. The next time I saw Lex, I was going to kill him.
It took forever to get back to the Jeep. Honor’s movements began to slow the farther we walked. She held herself stiffly, and I knew she was injured in places I couldn’t see.
This sick, twisty feeling took over my gut as ideas of what he did to her stole my thoughts. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid I would upset her.
“That’s my Jeep up ahead,” I told her when I saw its dark shape come into view.
“Thank God,” she murmured, stumbling a little.
My grip tightened around her waist, trying to keep her from falling. She yelped. I jerked back like I’d been burned.
“What?” I hadn’t been rough.
“Sorry,” she replied, hunching over a bit. “I think my ribs are broken.”
Shit, I’d been holding her around the middle the entire trek back to the Jeep. It had to have been killing her. “Why didn’t you say something?” I said harshly.
Her head swung in my direction. “Because it doesn’t change anything. We have to get out of here.”
She was right. I hated it.
I took her hand, knowing not to touch her middle, but not being able to not touch her at all. I led her to the Jeep where it sat partially concealed by the trees.
Something was wrong…
I squinted at the dark shape of the vehicle again, trying to figure out what wasn’t right. I pulled the flashlight out of my pocket and aimed it at my car.
It was sitting lopsided.
I directed the beam at the tires.
They were slashed.
We weren’t going to be driving anywhere.
15
Honor
As I was staring at the slashed and unusable tires, the sky chose that moment to open and throw down some rain.
Yay.
Nathan’s jacket had warmed me up. The fat icy drops now lunging from the sky were likely going to hinder that a bit.
“Get in,” Nathan said over the roar of the rain, pulling open the driver’s side door and ushering me into the tiny back seat of the Wrangler.
After I was in, he got in the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him. I collapsed against the seat, thinking that being in this cramped Jeep was the most comfortable place I’d ever been. Never mind the seats were vinyl and not all that warm. Never mind the tires were ruined and we couldn’t actually drive anywhere.
In that moment, I was just thrilled to be out of that hole, away from that vile man, and out of the rain.
Everything else was just details.
Right?
Okay, no.
“I don’t suppose you have several spares in the back and not just one?” I asked.
He grunted. “No.”
“Well, shit.”
“Yep.”
“Where do you think he is?” I whispered, the words refusing to come out any louder.
He turned in his seat and looked at me through the dark. I wished it was light enough for me to make out his features. I really wanted to see him. So far, all I could make out was that he was tall and broad with short, dark hair.
“He’s still out there,” he said, grim. I shot at him, but the bullet might have just nicked him because I was moving when I fired. “He’s obviously still pissed too.”
“Because of the tires, you mean?” I guess it was a dumb question. People who weren’t angry didn’t go around slashing other people’s tires.
“Yeah. And because you got away.” He was silent a moment. “Guys like him don’t like to lose. They like to be in control.”
I shuddered a little at his words. My kidnapper was definitely big on control. “I called 9-1-1. I told her my name, but the phone was disconnected.”
“I went to the police too. There was some bad accident out on Route 210. A lot of casualties. The police station was practically empty when I got there.”
“That’s why you came,” I whispered.
“You needed someone fast.”
Yeah, I did. And he came. Emotion swelled up in my chest, choking me up. I swallowed it down. “Thank you,” was all I could manage. Why is it those words never seem like enough?
“You’re welcome.” The reply was a soft whisper that floated to me from the front of the cab. His words were simple too. They were more than enough.
He opened up the center console of the Jeep and pulled out some sort of energy bar. “Here,” he said, handing it back to me.
I took his offering, ripped open the wrapper, and bit into the sweet food. I made a sound of appreciation when vanilla burst over my tongue.
“How long were you down there?” he asked, his voice strained.
“He took me this morning. I was out for a run on the trail.”
“So like fifteen hours,” he surmised.
“I guess,” I replied around a large bite of food. It had felt like forever.
As soon as the bar was finished, I crumpled the wrapper and stuck it the jacket pocket. A bottle of water appeared in my line of vision.
I took a small sip at first, the cool water slipping down my parched throat with ease.
“What did he do to you?” Nathan whispered. His voice was hoarse.
I paused my drinking and lowered the bottle against my chest. “It could have been worse.”
“You’re bleeding.”
I glanced down at my hand holding the bottle. I’d forgotten about the raw state of my knuckles. “I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t say anything but went back to rummaging through the center console. When he closed the lid, he held up a small white kit. “I’m coming back there.”
Before I could protest that there was no way we would both fit, he squeezed himself between the seats and mushed his wide frame beside me.
He smelled good. Like a fresh-cut Christmas tree.
He held up the tiny flashlight, which was surprisingly strong, and handed it to me. “Here, point this at your hands. Keep the light trained down.”
“What if he sees?” I worried, glancing out the very dark window. I could see nothing. The sound of the rain pounding against the ragtop was very loud, and the wind rocked the vehicle occasionally.
“If he comes here, I’ll shoot him.” There was no room for doubt in his words. In fact, his voice held a backbone of steel that made me a little nervous.
“It’s not that bad.” I tried. “I can wait.” Okay, so since he reminded me of my injuries, they hurt like hell. But I wasn’t going to admit that.
“Honor,” he said gently
, all traces of the steel gone. He didn’t just say my name—he breathed it. It was like he inhaled it into his body, filled up his lungs, and then exhaled.
Something warm spread throughout me, like I was being warmed up from the inside out.
“There’s no reason to leave it like that when I can clean it up.”
He didn’t touch me. Maybe he knew I was still kind of in shock from everything that happened.
I was.
But damn, I wanted him to touch me.
He placed the small kit on his lap and popped it open, reminding me of an oversized kid with his lunchbox. “This is probably going to hurt like a bitch.”
I laughed. Thank God he wasn’t the kind of guy to say, “This might hurt a little,” when we all knew that it was going to hurt way more than that.
He was looking at me when I placed my hand between us. “What?” I said, my heart lodging in my throat and making it very hard to breathe.
“You have a good laugh.”
I didn’t say anything because my throat was still obstructed and now my stomach was doing all kinds of funny flips. I really hoped the bar I just inhaled didn’t make a reappearance. I turned on the light and shined it down low between us over the bloody mess that was my hand.
He used his teeth to rip open some kind of little wipe. “Ready?” he murmured, slipping a free hand beneath mine.
I nodded.
He was right. The process of cleaning my scraped and raw knuckles hurt. It hurt a lot. But the good thing was I barely registered the pain because I was too entranced by the feeling of his skin against mine.
Too entranced by sitting there in a tiny enclosed space with a very large man while he protectively curled his body close to mine and cupped my hand with his. The sound of falling rain splattering against the ragtop and sliding down the vinyl windows was so melodic that if I wasn’t in survival mode, I might have been lured to sleep.
The scent of pine wrapped around me, bringing me comfort as I stared at the top of his dark head bowed laboriously over my hand. If he noticed the way the flashlight shook in my hand, he didn’t comment.
Nothing had ever affected me this way. Not ever.
I tried to commit this feeling to memory, the exact sound of his breathing, the way our knees bumped together. It sort of felt like we were in a small cocoon, closed off from the world. Safe.
Feeling safe had become a real luxury.
I tried to tuck away every detail for later when I was able to sit down at the keyboard and write. Yes, I guess I was thinking about work. But when you do what you love, it isn’t work. And when every experience, every single aspect of life can be pulled on for inspiration… well, even my own kidnapping is fair game.
And so was Nathan.
He was far more interesting than any story I could ever write about myself.
“Almost done,” he spoke, bringing me out of my head and back in the moment with him.
I watched him gently spread some antibacterial cream over the worst of the scrapes and then individually wrap each of my four fingers in separate Band-Aids.
“That looks ridiculous.” I scoffed. “They probably won’t stay on.”
“They’ll stay,” he stated, smoothing the last one into place.
“How do you know?” Little tingles shot up my arm and into my elbow. It made me feel all squirmy inside.
He looked up, our eyes connecting in the dim light created by the flashlight. “Because I put it there.”
I would have called him on his arrogance… if I could’ve found the oxygen to speak.
The temperature in the Jeep rose about twenty degrees as we stared at each other silently. It was like there was some sort of pull between us, a special gravity that only he and I could feel. The air between us practically crackled with tension—but not the stressful kind, the good kind. The kind of tension that made me bite the inside of my lip and squeeze my thighs together.
After several charged moments, he broke eye contact. I was partially relieved, partially disappointed. Nathan ripped open yet another of those wipe thingies. The flash of his straight white teeth as he used them had me biting the inside of my lip even harder.
He shook out the mini towelette and looked up. Without warning, without a single word, he cupped the back of my head, his palm completely spanning the base of my skull. His warmth seeped into my scalp and sent little goose bumps racing over me. They multiplied so fast it almost felt like a million tiny ants rushed over my body.
I couldn’t hold back the shiver.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Not as cold as before.”
His fingers flexed into my hair and he reached up, using the wipe to gently dab at my lower lip. “What happened here?” he asked gently.
I swallowed. “I’m not sure.” It could have been from me biting it. It could have been from being hit. Who knew?
He grunted and pulled it away, and I caught a glimpse of the dark stain against the white. He folded it over and then returned, swiping carefully over more of my skin. “I’m not going to be able to do anything about that eye right now.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he said, that steel creeping back into his tone. His shoulders stiffened slightly and I tensed. In that moment, he seemed like a cornered, aggressive animal. Like he was seconds away from completely losing it.
He took a deep breath and expelled it, the action seeming to calm him down. “It makes me angry he did this to you.”
“Are you friends with him?” I couldn’t keep the question in any longer.
He tossed the wipe into his lap with the other used one. “No,” he replied.
“Then how come you texted him?”
“I play poker once a week with a group of guys. Lex is one of them. He was late to the game and I texted to see if he was coming.”
“His name is Lex?”
Nathan nodded.
Putting a name to the hideous man who tortured me didn’t make him seem any more human. In fact, it made him seem like more of a monster.
“I had no idea he was a total whack job.”
“Well, he is that,” I agreed.
Nathan flashed a grin in the darkness. I longed to see him in the light. I wanted to know the angles and planes of his face. I wanted to take in his features and truly see the man who had literally saved my life.
Nathan seemed oblivious to my thoughts as I watched him tidy up the first aid kit. Before he put it on the floor, he glanced at me. “Where else are you hurt?”
“I won’t be requiring any more Band-Aids,” I quipped.
He turned to look at me fully. His hand closed over mine and he gently took the flashlight from my grasp and clicked it off. “What about your ribs?”
“I don’t think you have anything in that kit for them.”
“Let me see them.”
“Wh-what?” My mouth ran dry. He wanted to look under my shirt?
“I want to see them.”
“That’s not really necessary—”
He studied me and then thrust his hand out in the space between us. “Hey, I’m Nathan Reed. It’s nice to meet you.”
I wanted to laugh. We were a little beyond a formal introduction. But it was fun (hey, you try being kidnapped and beaten and see what you consider fun), so I slid my hand into his. “I’m Honor.”
He held my hand a little longer than he needed to, his thumb brushing over the inside of my wrist. I caught myself right before I started purring like a cat.
That would have been hella embarrassing.
“I’m a staff sergeant in the United States Marine Corps. My favorite color is green, and I like football.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, thoroughly charmed by him.
“Formally introducing myself so you’ll let me under your shirt.”
I laughed. “I usually don’t let men I just met under my shirt.”
“I’m irresistible.”
I smiled. “And so modest.”
> “Now you know all about me. Your turn.”
I lifted my eyebrow. I knew all about him? I highly doubted that. In fact, Nathan Reed seemed like a guy with many layers. But I played along.
“I’m Honor Calhoun. I’m a writer. My favorite color is blue, and I also like football.”
“You like hot wings, Honor?” he asked like it was the most important thing he needed to know.
“Who doesn’t?”
“Nice,” he drawled. He had quite the southern accent going. Every time he talked, I felt a little giddy and I hung on every word he said. I was waiting for him to drop his first “y’all.”
“All right,” he said, gesturing to my shirt. “Lift it up. Let’s see it.”
“You suck at foreplay.”
He caught my wrist in his oversized palm and towed me a little closer. His face came close to mine, so close that I was able to see that he had blue eyes and a scar across one of his cheeks. “That, sweetheart, was not foreplay. When we get to that, you’ll damn well know it.”
Well, alrighty then.
Shamelessly, I wondered when we might get to the foreplay.
He released my wrist and tugged at the hem of my shirt and jacket. He wasn’t going to relent, that much was clear. I sighed and slapped away his hand. Then I opened up the jacket. Before I could get the zipper down, he was sliding up my jacket and shirt, bunching it up beneath my breasts, and then the tiny light clicked back on.
When the beam met with my torso, breath hissed out between his teeth. “What the fuck did he do to you?”
I glanced down long enough to see purple and black splotches all over my creamy skin. The area was puffy and grotesque looking, and I turned away. I didn’t want to see it. Feeling it was bad enough.
“He kicked me.”
A low growl ripped from his throat.
I glanced at him, expecting to see rage taking over his face, but instead he wore a frown. Ever so lightly, he brushed the tips of his fingers over the area and I winced. Even his soft caress hurt.
And then he did something I didn’t see coming.
The flashlight fell from his fingertips and rolled into the crack of the seat, plunging the backseat back into darkness. Nathan’s newly free hand wrapped around my lower back, his palm spanning my waist as he ducked his head and pressed his lips to the injured area.
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