Catching Red
Page 6
“Don’t be so self-absorbed.” His words were harsh, but his voice was gentle. He never ceased to make her feel off-balance. “Bad people will continue to do bad things. Good people will get the opposite of what they deserve. It’s the way things are and always will be. You’re doing the best you can. No one can expect more.”
But so much depended on her success. This place—this man—made her feel safe. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. “Get it through your thick head. I can’t waste any more time.”
He made an exasperated sound and jabbed his fingertip between her brows. “Try to get up.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
He crossed his arms. She was beginning to realize it was something he did when he felt he had the upper hand. “If you can lift into a seated position without my help, we’ll continue this discussion. Otherwise, the point is moot.”
Stubbornness prompted her to straighten her shoulders. She pressed her palms onto the mattress and pushed as hard as she could. But she had neither the strength to prop herself up nor the momentum to scoot her bottom back. She clenched all her abdominal muscles and still couldn’t peel her spine off the bed. Tears stung her eyes as her skin grew warm from the failed exertion. He was right. There was nothing she could do.
She slumped against the pillow and bit back a frustrated moan.
He cupped her face and tilted it until their gazes locked. “Don’t you dare start the waterworks. I can’t imagine a worse nightmare than being trapped in a bunker with a crying woman.”
Her lower lip quivered. The tip of her nose felt hot. “What’s wrong with me?”
His blue eyes reflected a hint of panic. “Give yourself a f-freaking break. I’ve seen grown men turn to whimpering babies—you’ve been a trouper.”
He lowered his arms. His hand reached toward her abdomen. Her fist crashed into his face.
He howled. “Seriously, woman?”
Horrified, she stared at him. Her grandmother had always chosen the torso to inflict damage while Scarlet was down. Self-defense was instinctive. She tried to take a deep breath and had it interrupted by a series of dry sobs. “I’m so sorry…force of habit…” Her vision blurred.
He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Now, now.” His voice sounded strained. “There’s no need to get weepy.” He rubbed his jaw. “It didn’t hurt at all—”
A fat drop of hot liquid rolled down her cheek. “I have to get back…I just have to…”
He blotted the tear with a corner of the blanket. “Look, you’re not thinking straight. Low blood sugar and dehydration is messing with your head. When exactly do bodies start dropping?”
His poor choice of words felt like a blow to the gut. Her face must have crumpled since he quickly revised his query. “How long does it take to get from here to wherever you need to go?”
She bit her lip and tried to pull herself together. The effort only intensified her light-headedness. “A day—but who knows how fast I can move in this weather?”
Judging from his slight squint, he was trying to choose his words with care. “All right. How long do you have before this unspecified threat of death and destruction rains down on this indeterminate group of people?”
She counted off the days in her head. It should have been a simple calculation, but her brain refused to cooperate. “Two and a half weeks. Three at the most.”
His expression signaled relief. “Then why the hell are you killing yourself to get out the door?”
His ignorance, though annoying, was understandable. He had no idea what she was up against. “The longer I take, the more things can go wrong. If that happens and people get hurt, it’ll be my fault.”
“So the world revolves around you now?” She had a feeling he was aggravating her on purpose. There was no other explanation for his mocking expression.
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
He shrugged. “It seems you’ve got a hero complex, that’s all. Who died and made you in charge of other people’s fates?”
She ground her teeth together. “I never asked for the responsibility.”
“But you’re willing to sacrifice your life for it.” He lowered his hand and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Kudos. But until your spindly little legs are strong enough to take you out of here, I’m giving you permission to take a vacation.”
“Vacation” was another one of those words she had read but never quite understood. Her confusion must have been evident since he elaborated. “Until this storm blows over, which will take at least a week, all I want you to worry about is adding meat to those bones. You look so fragile it’s giving me the creeps.”
Concern clawed at her. “A week is a long time. What if I get back too late?”
He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Starting any sentence with ‘what if’ is a recipe for disaster. You’re no use to anyone until you’re in fighting shape. Then we’ll deal with this life-or-death situation you refuse to tell me about together.”
Even though she knew she couldn’t accept his offer, the pressure on her chest lightened. “There is no we. I neither need nor want your help.”
He gave her a slow blink as his lips pursed together. After considering her predicament, she was forced to amend her statement. “I mean…I don’t need help after I’m strong enough to leave this place.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now, are you going to throw yourself a little pity party or will you let me feed you?”
The thought of eating another packet of weird dried meaty gunk almost made her throw up in her mouth. “Whoever filled up those foil-wrapped blocks you insist I eat didn’t know the first thing about cooking.”
Judging from his expression, he shared her opinion. “I know it tastes like sh-crap, but I can’t hunt in this weather. Those MREs are all we’ve got. We’re lucky this safe house is stocked with more than a month’s supply.”
She searched for an excuse and came up with something that was also true. “I’m too cold to eat.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Sorry about that. I regretted my stunt the moment snow started blowing in.”
He widened his eyes and stuck out his lower lip. Fluttering lids further enhanced the effect. His feigned guilt was so comical she couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure you do. You enjoy proving you’re right.”
He grinned. “It’s satisfying on the few occasions I succeed. Since I grew up with three younger sisters, opportunities to win arguments are rare.”
She pulled the blanket up to her neck. “I’m not your sister.”
His jocular expression wavered. “I know—and I have a proposal for warming you up.”
Since the tip of her nose had gone numb, she was desperate to hear it. “You have my attention.”
He closed his hand over her trembling fingers. “The most efficient method is for us to share body heat.”
Her cheeks flushed with warmth. The increasingly erratic behavior of that particular body part was beginning to annoy her. “Why is this happening now? I haven’t lied about anything.”
His smile made her fingertips tingle. “You don’t know why you’re blushing?”
She scowled. “I have no clue. Blood seems to be rushing to my face at random intervals.”
“Allow me to test a theory.” He pulled the blanket out of her hands and brought it down to her belly.
When she followed his gaze to her chest, her neck and face seemed to go up in flames. Judging from his expression, the reaction brought him significant satisfaction. “So why is this happening to me?”
There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “You’re smart enough to guess I’ve seen you naked.”
She frowned. “Of course you have. When I woke up, I smelled like I had taken a dozen baths and was wearing dry clothes. You couldn’t have accomplished it without taking my gear off.”
Even as her mind dismissed the obvious conclusion as in
consequential, her body reacted to the reminder in an odd manner. Her mouth went dry. Her stomach flipped.
She forgot to breathe when he trailed his finger from the sensitive spot behind her ear down the slope of her neck. “Am I the first man who has seen you without your clothes on?”
He was the first man to see her, period. Despite living outside the compound for seven years, she had managed to maintain a safe distance from all men. The few she spotted on her scouting missions posed a greater threat than the undead.
Life in the wastelands required a ruthlessness that favored the depraved. Those who attracted the attention of other nomads lost their lives more often than not. Time and again she watched from the shadows as groups of bandits wreaked havoc on travelers and small settlements, knowing her only chance at seeing the next morning lay in being unheard and unseen. Fearing men had been too integral a part of her indoctrination to ignore, and she was certain her ingrained wariness of the other sex had helped her survive.
Yet she was lying next to a man—had been at his mercy for the past five days—and not once had she felt afraid. She licked her lips and avoided his question. “Why does it matter?”
“It explains why you have no clue what’s happening.” He swung his legs onto the bed.
She diverted her attention to his bare feet. “Your toes are turning blue.”
He pulled the blanket out from under them and covered their lower bodies. “On an instinctive level, you recognize the way I look at you—the way I touch you—as indications of interest.”
She rested her head on the pillow and looked into his eyes. “Interest in what?”
He caught her chin and ran his thumb over her lower lip. Her heart pounded as she absorbed the warmth emanating from his much larger body. “In something you’re not quite ready for. You don’t need to play dumb. I’m a patient man. I can wait for you to think things through.”
She raised her hands to his chest to maintain what was left of the distance between them. “And until then?”
He spanned her lower back and plastered her body against his. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you warm.” His head tilted forward. Their foreheads touched. “I’ll chase the monsters from your dreams.”
She clenched her fingers over his shirt as she fought the talons of fear. He had just given voice to everything she didn’t dare admit she needed. “And if what I decide isn’t what you want?”
His smile was slow, lazy, and filled with confidence. “It will be.”
Chapter 5
“You know how to ride.” Marcus’ familiar voice held a hint of approval. The horse whinnied in response to its owner’s remark and curved its neck in his direction. Adjusting to the movement, Scarlet nudged it with her leg to make it do a complete turn. Keeping her hands on the mane, she looked down to meet her savior’s sky-blue gaze. Her heart skipped a beat.
His cheeks and nose were red from the cold. He must have been watching her for quite a while. He was leaning against a tree with his arms folded. Clumps of white gathered in the creases of his worn leather jacket. His boots’ thick dark soles sank a good distance into the powdered ground. Flakes of snow continued to drift onto his pale blond head. The storm had ebbed, but dark gray clouds portended its return. This was a brief respite, not the blizzard’s end.
His gaze raked her from head to toe, lingering at her slumped shoulders and shaking hands. She was stronger but far from full strength. His brows drew almost imperceptibly together, a microexpression she knew from extended observation reflected disapproval. “Now I know why you were asking all those questions. Here I thought you were concerned about Gold’s safety.”
She had found the animal under a temporary shelter less than a five-minute walk from the bunker. With a sheepish smile affixed on her face, she presented her defense. “I won’t hurt Gold, I promise. I’ve done this before.”
After reading about the process in several books, she had fashioned a head collar and spent months tracking a herd. Though she’d never managed to train a mount to follow her around, she did succeed in taming a small mare once. She rode it for a while. But in the end, she set it free. She was in no position to form attachments. It was safer among other horses than it was with her.
It took him three steps to reach her. He smoothed his hand over the horse’s golden coat and replied in a cool voice, “It’s not her I’m worried about. Just because you managed to pull on a pair of jeans and sneakers doesn’t mean you’re in any shape to trudge into the woods.”
She had learned that arguing with this man had about the same effect as reasoning with the undead. So she swung her leg over and allowed him to help her down. With his hands circling her waist, she braced herself against his shoulders. Instead of lowering her to the ground, he held her in place. Their gazes locked.
She had glimpsed the hungry expression on his face too many times not to recognize its meaning. Until now, he had allowed her to ignore the intensifying attraction that pulsed between them. But something was different. Feminine instinct responded to what her mind didn’t want to accept. Her body softened against his hold. Warmth flooded her cheeks. Inside her shoes, her toes curled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“If you’re strong enough to get on a horse,” he murmured, “you’re strong enough to be kissed.” His tone was casual, but his intent couldn’t be more clear.
She had known this moment was coming. For the past two days, a shiver of awareness rolled down her spine whenever his hands lingered over her skin. Each night, she had allowed him to pull her so close their bodies were as one. She had melted into the warmth of his embrace—had yearned for his touch and craved the sound of his voice. Whenever he broke contact, her gaze followed him like a moth to a flame. More than once, their heads gravitated so close his lips hovered a breath away from hers.
For a week now she had been dependent on him for survival. He had been her savior, was still her protector, yet he had not yet made any demands. She had a feeling things were about to change.
“You could have kissed me before now.” Her mind searched for a way to delay the inevitable. Abandoned villages and towns were littered with books, so she had read about the sexual attraction that brought male and female together. But while she understood human reproduction in a theoretical sense, she had never experienced it firsthand.
When he spoke, his voice was low, husky, and mesmerizing. “I want you to kiss me because you want to, not because you need my help. Now that you’re strong enough to run away, it’s time you made a decision.”
All semblance of thought escaped her. With his hands around her waist and her feet far off the ground, she was his willing captive.
“You thought I was leaving?” She cradled his face with her palms. With her fingertips, she traced the stress lines on the corners of his eyes and between his brows. The thought of departing before her time was up had never occurred to her. “When I need to go, I’ll tell you first.” It was a commitment she didn’t know she was ready to make until the words were spoken.
“Good.” He tilted his head back. She bent her head forward. Their foreheads met.
She fought to maintain what little distance they had left. As much as she wanted to risk all in exchange for a moment’s bliss, her life wasn’t the only one at stake. “I have to leave soon. I need to know you’ll let me go. I want to kiss you. I want to do more than kiss you. But the future isn’t something I can change.”
“And you can’t tell me where you’re going. You won’t promise to come back.” He sounded more curious than angry. “When the storm is over, you want me to just stand by and watch you walk away.”
She nodded. The motion made the tips of their noses brush over each other.
He lowered her to the ground. “No deal.”
His statement took her by surprise. There was no reason for him to refuse her terms. In many ways, they were still strangers. Their pasts and futures were topics neither spoke of. They revealed nothing and promised nothing.
It suddenly occurred to her she knew more about him than she cared to admit.
“I don’t want to start this with a lie.” He sounded surprised by his own words. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll stand by and let you get yourself killed.”
Because she wasn’t sure if she was speaking the truth, she lowered her gaze to the ground. “I’m capable of handling my own problems. I expect you not to interfere—”
“Then you’re in for a disappointment.” His lips firmed into a straight line. “I was the one who stitched you back together. Whatever it is you think you’re doing, you’re in way over your head. There’s no way in hell you can convince me otherwise.”
She reached for his hand. “If you come with me, all you’ll do is put your life in danger. This isn’t a place where you can hide or blend in. These aren’t people who’ll look kindly on m-outsiders. I need to go back alone.”
He scowled. “For someone who almost died a week ago, you sure talk a good game. If what you say is true, then you might as well give up now.”
His words stung in large part because they veered too close to the truth. She wasn’t confident the rebellion would manage to keep everyone alive. She didn’t even know if she’d be able to save her own mother. What awaited her at the end of this path could be her grandmother’s victory and countless deaths.
But she didn’t have a choice. She was fighting for her home—for her family. The chances of success were irrelevant. There were people counting on her return. She needed to go back and finish what she started.