by Cindi Myers
“Then why don’t you believe me when I say I’m interested in you because you’re you? I feel a connection to you I haven’t felt with anyone for a very long time.”
“I was afraid to believe you because I wanted so badly for it to be true.”
He caressed her cheek. “What about our bad timing? We’re not in the best circumstances for romance.”
“If everyone waited for everything to be perfect before they began a relationship, a lot more people would be alone.” She didn’t want to be alone anymore—not when she had no idea how much time they might have left. She grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him to her, crushing her mouth to his. For once she allowed herself to be greedy, taking what she wanted.
His fervor matched hers, two hungry exiles suddenly presented with a feast. Tongues tangled, lips twined, hands explored. She dragged down the zipper of his jacket and slid her hands beneath his sweatshirt, over the firm plane of his abdomen and the hard muscles of his chest. She brushed fingertips through the dusting of hair on his chest, delighting in the beautiful maleness of him.
He helped her out of her coat, then coaxed off her sweater. His lips traced the curve of her breasts, his tongue sliding silkily down the valley between them. Then he peeled aside the lace of her bra and drew the hard bead of her nipple into his mouth.
She gasped and arched against him, the pull of his mouth reaching all the way to her sex. She twined her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, then dragged his head up to kiss him once more. With one hand, she groped behind her for the clasp of her bra and released it.
His eyes followed her movements as she sent the lacy garment sailing over the back of the sofa. “I’ve heard that cuddling naked in a sleeping bag is a good way to keep from freezing to death,” she said.
“I’ve heard that, too. But I don’t think we’re in danger of freezing to death.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m pretty cold.” She pressed her naked chest against his, reveling in the warmth and the delicious contrast of hard to soft, rough to smooth.
He caressed her arm and kissed the top of her shoulder. “I have a confession,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I’ve wanted to be naked with you since the day the guards threw you into that cabin with me.”
“Mmm.” She traced her tongue along his collarbone. “I wanted that, too. Well, maybe not right away. It took me a few hours.”
“Then we have a lot of time to make up for,” he said.
“I like the way you think.” She reached for the zipper of his pants, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“I hate to be the one to point this out,” he said. “But there probably isn’t a condom within miles of this place.”
Knowing he had even thought of protection made her want him that much more. She racked her brain, rationalizing their situation. “We don’t have to worry about disease,” she said. “I’m healthy and I haven’t been in a relationship for a couple of years.”
He stroked her cheek. “Are the men where you live blind or crazy?”
She shook her head. “Neither. It was my choice.” Though she had been physically intimate with a few men over the years, she had never allowed any of them to get emotionally close, and she had always ended relationships after a few weeks or months. Anything more was too dangerous. She had never felt as connected to a man—or as safe—as she did with Mark now.
“I haven’t slept with a woman since my wife.” He wrapped a strand of Erin’s hair around his finger. “Are you on birth control?”
She pressed her forehead to his and sighed. “No such luck.”
The dance of his fingertips up her spine sent a flutter through her. “There are a lot of things we can do short of actual intercourse.” He cupped her breast and her breath quickened.
“I’m listening,” she whispered.
He kissed the tender spot beneath her jaw. “I want to be intimate with you in whatever way we can.”
She took hold of his zipper once more. “I want that, too.”
A need to linger and savor replaced their earlier haste, as if they were both silently acknowledging that, no matter what the uncertain future brought, they would sear this interlude into their memories. They helped each other out of their clothes, then pressed their bodies together, naked beneath the sleeping bags.
“I’m warmer already,” she said, and wrapped her legs around his hips, his erection nudging at her entrance, both teasing and thrilling her.
He trailed his hands down her back, then cupped her bottom, caressing, sending a shimmer of fresh arousal to her core. When he shifted his attention to the front of her thighs, she obliged by moving apart from him enough to allow his hands between them, his fingers tracing around her entrance, then delving in the folds above.
She arched into his palm as he slid one finger into her and began to stroke with his thumb, playing her like a skilled musician. When he lowered his mouth to her breast and began to suckle, she no longer felt tethered to the earth, instead soaring in a thrilling ride to unknown heights.
His hands and mouth coaxed sensations from her she had all but forgotten about—or never known. As she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, she battled the desire for this moment to never end, and her growing need for it to do so. When at last her climax crashed over her, his mouth claimed hers once more, muffling her cry of joy. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, the raw need reflected there sending a last shudder of completion through her. He withdrew his hand slowly and pressed a tender kiss to her temple.
“Your turn now,” she said, and reached down between them to take him in her hand.
“You don’t have to—” The sentence went unfinished as she slid down the length of his body and took him in her mouth.
He let out a low groan and caressed the back of her head as she teased him with her tongue and lips, delighting in her power to leave him speechless. She deepened the contact and felt him go inward, building toward his own release. A surge of fresh desire washed over her, a desire—no, a need—to give him this gift in such an intimate way. If being with him like this was so erotic and transforming, how incredible would actual intercourse be?
He gripped her shoulders and his body tensed. His climax shuddered through him, seeming to move through her body as well as his own. As soon as the last tremor left him he dragged her up beside him, cradling her head on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke for many minutes.
Eyes closed, sleep dragged at her, pulling her into welcome blankness. But before she succumbed, she wanted to say something, to let Mark know how much she cherished what they had shared together. She wouldn’t be like a sappy teenager, declaring she was in love because she had had sex with a man. But being with him like this changed things, and she needed to acknowledge that. With sleep tugging at her, she fought to think clearly, to say something sincere but not too cloying.
What came out was less than articulate, more honest than she had wanted: “I never met a man who made me feel the things I feel with you,” she said. “It scares me, but I don’t want to run from that fear.”
He caressed her back, stroking and massaging. “I’ve spent most of my life avoiding strong emotions,” he said. “It was always easier to lose myself in facts and figures—things I could measure and control. I guess I was afraid, though I probably would have denied it if anyone had called me on it.”
“Are you afraid with me?” Erin asked.
“No. With you it’s as if I know there’s nothing to be afraid of.” His lips brushed her temple. “Try to get some rest. I think we’re safe here.”
Safe in his arms, she thought as she closed her eyes and settled more firmly against him. How ironic to find that kind of sanctuary now, when she had never faced greater danger.
* * *
MARK WO
KE TO silvery moonlight streaming through the one uncovered window in the cabin, spilling across the sofa. The unfamiliar warmth and weight of Erin’s body pressed against him made his throat tighten and his eyes sting. Days ago he had believed he had almost nothing left to live for. Now he had so much. He shifted so he could look at her, her face soft and somehow younger in her sleep, the worry lines that too often tightened her forehead banished for the moment.
His gaze shifted to the edge of the cruel collar that encircled her neck, and his jaw tightened. He would find a way to make Duane Braeswood pay for the suffering he had caused her. The collar was a particularly cruel torture, forcing her to live with the means of her own destruction.
Gently, hoping not to wake her, he lifted her chin to get a better look at the device. Maybe he could figure out how to undo that clasp, to free her of it. His hand stilled and ice water filled his veins as he stared at the band of metal, fully visible now. Where before the only item to draw the eye was the compact bomb affixed to the front, a new detail had emerged since they had fallen asleep. Now a digital readout glowed green in a black square next to the bomb. He watched as the numbers on the display changed, and he bit the side of his cheek to keep from shouting with rage.
“What’s wrong? Why are you staring at me that way?”
Erin crossed her arms over her breasts and tried to pull away from him. He forced himself to assume a calmer expression. “It’s okay,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What is it?” she asked again. “Something’s wrong. I can see it on your face.”
He gestured to her collar. “That...thing. The bomb. It has a timer.”
“A timer?” She sat up straighter and put one hand to the metal.
He took the hand and cradled it in his own. “You can’t feel it,” he said. “It’s a digital readout. It wasn’t there before. It was either programmed to show up now, or Duane set it off remotely.”
“What’s it doing? What does it say?” Erin pulled her hand from his and tugged at the metal band, as if she might tear it away from her neck.
He stared at the glowing green numbers that slowly ticked off the seconds. “It’s counting down time. Maybe time until the bomb goes off.”
She clutched at him. “How much time do I have?”
“We. I’m not going to leave you alone with this.”
“How much time?”
“Twenty-three hours and thirty-nine minutes.”
Chapter Ten
“That can’t be right,” Erin said, panic like a giant hand gripping her heart. “Duane said the bomb wouldn’t go off for a week.”
“Maybe he lied. Or he had the ability to reset the timer remotely.”
She threw off the sleeping bag and reached for her clothing. “We have to leave now,” she said.
“That’s too dangerous,” Mark said, but he began to pull on his own clothing. “It’s pitch-dark out there and still snowing. If we try to leave now we’ll get hopelessly lost and maybe freeze to death.”
His words made sense, but this whole situation was beyond crazy. She couldn’t respond to it logically. “We have to reach help before it’s too late,” she said.
He put a steadying hand on her shoulder. When she raised her eyes to meet his she felt bathed in his calm determination. “We’ll leave as soon as it’s light enough to do so safely,” he said. “Meanwhile, we can spend the time gathering supplies and getting ready.”
“All right.” She took a deep breath. Everything was far from all right, but maybe she could hold on if she pretended it was. “What do we need to do?”
“I’ll start by fixing a hot meal.”
“I couldn’t eat.”
“This isn’t about appetite. It’s about survival. You’ll stay warmer and keep going longer if you get some calories in you.”
While he heated canned chili, she rolled up the sleeping bags and the blankets from the bunks. When he summoned her to the table she forced herself to choke down the food, which might have been sawdust in hot water for all she could taste. As she ate, all her attention was fixed on the band around her throat and the digital display she couldn’t see that was ticking down the minutes until her destruction.
Mark did his best to keep her distracted. While he rigged a makeshift knapsack out of an old hunting shirt he found hanging by the front door, he had her gather the rest of the canned food, a can opener and matches to go into it.
When the sun was far enough up in the sky for them to clearly see their way, they climbed out the back window of the cabin. “We’re bound to intersect a main road within an hour or two,” he said. “I don’t think there’s any place in the state where we would be farther from civilization than that.”
“I hope your brother knows some fast—and close—bomb experts,” she said.
“He’s FBI. They have experts on everything.”
“Great.” She did her best to sound optimistic, but Mark must have seen through her bluff. He patted her back.
“We’re going to get through this,” he said. “Come on.”
If she hadn’t been so miserable over the bomb and their chances for escape, she might have enjoyed the hike through the snow-covered woods. Last night’s storm had left the world draped in a white coverlet that sparkled in the early morning sunlight. But the same snow that made the world look soft and beautiful all but obscured the drive leading up to the road, and left them both wet to the knees from trudging through it. Worse, when Erin looked back over her shoulder, their tracks stood out clearly in the smooth white surface.
Mark joined her in staring at the signs of their passage. “There’s nothing we can do about that,” he said. “We just have to keep moving and stay ahead of them.”
They set out again and were both soon breathing heavily as they made the steep ascent to the road. Mark climbed up first, then turned to pull her up alongside him. A new wave of dismay washed over her as she stared at the sight before them. Twin tire tracks cut through the thick drifts, compressing the snow and making it clear that at least one large, capable vehicle had passed this way recently. “They haven’t given up searching for us,” she said, if only to break the stillness that threatened to smother them.
“We knew they wouldn’t.”
Yes, she knew Duane’s men wouldn’t stop until they found her and Mark, but some small part of her—the part apparently given to fantasies—had hoped they would tire of the search, or give them up for dead. This proof of how close their pursuers were shook her badly.
“Come on.” Mark adjusted the makeshift pack and set off along one of the tire tracks.
She hurried after him. “Why are you walking in the middle of the road?” she asked.
“We can move faster on the packed snow. They probably already know we’re up here, so all we can do is hope to outrun them.”
“Why do you think they know we’re here? I mean, they know we’re somewhere, but they can’t be sure we’re right here.”
She couldn’t help thinking a touch of pity lurked beneath the sympathy in his expression. “I’m beginning to think there’s some kind of tracking device on that collar. Setting off that timer last night, when we were stopped and thought we were at least momentarily safe, seems like the kind of mind game Duane enjoys playing.”
“So what is he going to do now? Let us stumble around in the snow for a while, then swoop down and capture us once more?”
“I don’t know.” His expression grim, Mark clutched the rifle. “But I’m not going back with them. And I’m not going to let them take you, either, not if I can help it.” He gestured in the direction they were headed. “All I know is this road goes somewhere and if we can get there before they do, we can call for help.”
She fell into step behind him. He was right—they could move faster on the packed snow, and the wid
th of the road allowed them to walk side by side. The track led steadily downhill, and she began to feel more optimistic. After half an hour or so, they spotted a signpost ahead. “Windrow, four miles,” Mark read.
“Have you ever heard of Windrow?” she asked.
“No, but if it’s big enough to warrant a road sign, they probably have a phone. We can be there in an hour.”
The thought of being only an hour away from rescue—even knowing it would probably be several hours after their phone call before help actually arrived—was enough to add wings to her feet. They hurried along and within another half hour reached a paved road and a second sign pointing the way to Windrow.
“I can’t believe we’re almost there.” She squeezed Mark’s arm and they grinned at each other. She forgot all about her wet, cold feet and frozen cheeks, anticipating hot coffee and a safe place to rest and share their story. This whole crazy ordeal would soon be over.
Mark opened his mouth to reply, then froze, the smile melting from his face. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.
Her stomach twisted as the distinct roar of an engine moving down the grade behind them grew louder.
* * *
MARK GRABBED ERIN’S arm and pulled her toward woods alongside the road as bullets ripped into the snow at their feet. The explosion of gunfire echoing off the surrounding rocks drowned out her screams as he pushed her behind him and slid the rifle off his shoulder.
The Hummer slid to a stop at the end of the road, the long barrels of assault rifles protruding from the front window and over the top of the vehicle, pointing toward where the two fugitives hid in the underbrush. Mark crouched in front of Erin, sighting along the barrel of his rifle. The moment he fired, the men in the vehicle would know exactly where they were hiding—but they might know that already. If he could kill one of them before they killed him, he might give Erin a chance to get away.
The world erupted with the sound of gunfire as a barrage of bullets strafed the roadside, ending only inches from their hiding place. Erin pressed her face against Mark’s back. He could feel her trembling, but she remained silent. His own heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. Tightening his hold on the rifle, he forced himself to inhale deeply and exhale slowly. The next barrage of gunfire would probably find them. He couldn’t wait any longer.
