by Susan Stoker
Dude didn’t look up but replied immediately and honestly, “Anything.”
“If you can’t get this thing off, you’ll get the hell out of here.”
Dude did look up at that. “Sorry, Shy, I can’t promise that, anything but that. Ask me to take you out for dinner, ask me to come to your house and rake up your leaves in the fall, hell, ask me to kiss you, I’ll agree with no complaints. But leave you? Not gonna happen.”
Cheyenne started a bit at the nickname he’d used. No one had ever shortened her name before. It felt intimate. She liked it, but now wasn’t the time or the place to acknowledge it. She ignored his other words, figuring they were said to make a point in the heat of the moment. “You don’t know me,” Cheyenne continued desperately. “You don’t owe me anything, I’m a nobody. Look at you, you’re gorgeous, and you’re an honest-to-God hero, I know you are, you should not give up your life for mine. I’m just not worth it.”
Cheyenne took a deep breath and babbled on, not giving Faulkner a chance to say anything. “I don’t have any close family, I’m not married, no one will miss me. I just know that you have loved ones who’d be mad as hell if you got killed. Look at you, you survived one bomb already, don’t let this one kill you, I couldn’t stand it.” Cheyenne’s voice trailed off.
Dude didn’t stop fiddling with the tape or with the bomb after her passionate speech, he just kept his head down and continued with what he’d been doing. Cheyenne shifted nervously, if he was pissed she’d mentioned his hand, too bad, maybe it would make him leave.
“How do you figure I’ve survived one bomb already?” Dude asked, not addressing her other points. They weren’t worth him giving them the light of day. But he was honestly curious as to her train of thought and how she’d figured out he’d survived an explosion in the past. Dude also figured it’d distract her and let him keep working. She was pretty persistent, something he usually admired, but right now he wanted her concentrated on something else.
“Well, um, your hand…I figured since you’re here now trying to get this damn bomb off of me and you said you were a bomb…order…whatever…and well…I just thought…” Cheyenne trailed off, not sure what she even really wanted to say.
“Well, you’re right. I do do this for a living. I’m a bomb ordnance technician in the Navy, among other things. I can’t say I’m a hero, but I have a whole team of men that depend on me being good at my job. And, hon, I am good at my job. Damn good. The bomb that took three of my fingers notwithstanding, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be damned if those yahoos get the best of me.”
Cheyenne was silent for a moment, but couldn’t stay that way. This was too important. “Please, Faulkner…”
Dude cut her off, not letting her finish her thought. “Hush, you’re ruining my concentration,” he told her not harshly, and not truthfully. He was one hundred percent focused on the bomb in front of him. Dude was sweating now and he was just getting past all the tape to the actual bomb underneath. He could see Cheyenne’s hands now, and he had access to the bottom switch, just where she’d told him it was. Dude was in luck, it looked like a fairly simple switch, but he couldn’t be certain. He wouldn’t put Cheyenne’s life, or his own, at risk on a hunch. He needed to uncover a bit more of the bomb itself to be sure.
Dude was impressed with Cheyenne. He knew she was scared to death, but she was holding herself together. He didn’t know too many people, soldiers included, that would’ve done what she did…try to get everyone else out of harm’s way. He told her so as he continued to work.
Cheyenne shook her head. “That’s not true,” she told him.
“Tell me how the other two women were able to sneak past five armed men and get out while you were being strapped to this bomb?” Dude asked her, already figuring he knew the answer, but wanting to see if Cheyenne would come clean.
Cheyenne was silent.
“That’s what I thought,” Dude said after a moment. “You volunteered, didn’t you? Then you created some sort of distraction…” He took the time to slowly reach up and brush her darkening eye gently before turning back to the contraption taped to her belly, and finished his sentence, “…that allowed them to escape out the front door.”
Cheyenne sighed. Faulkner was pretty smart, but Cheyenne hadn’t been able to simply to be led like a lamb to the slaughter to have the bomb taped on. She’d struggled just enough to make sure the men’s attention was all on her, and before the biggest guy had hit her, she’d caught the other women’s eyes and gestured nonverbally toward the door, hoping they’d understand. They did. They’d snuck out as the men were subduing her. A black eye was worth it to Cheyenne.
“Just like I told you, I don’t have anyone, they do, it was better this way.” Cheyenne looked at the top of Faulkner’s head as he continued to try to get to the bomb. She watched as sweat trickled down the side of his face. He wiped it off with his shoulder and kept working. Cheyenne wished her hands were free so she could wipe the sweat out of his eyes for him, but that was crazy. No, it was creepy, she’d just met the man for goodness sake.
Cheyenne couldn’t believe this was “Cooper”…the man she’d daydreamed about for weeks and had followed around this very store once. He was just so gorgeous…she certainly hadn’t dreamed this was how he’d be touching her though. The touch of his hand on her face had been short, but it’d sent shivers shooting down her spine nevertheless.
Cheyenne looked at Faulkner’s mangled hand to distract herself. She meant what she’d told him. She knew he was a hero, and while his hand wasn’t pleasant to look at, Cheyenne also knew what someone looked like made no difference as to the person they were inside. That hand was pure magic as far as she was concerned. If it was going to get this bomb off of her, she didn’t care what it looked like. He was missing half of his middle three fingers on his left hand, but she noticed it didn’t slow him down at all. He was still able to use what was left of his fingers to maneuver around the bomb. She wondered what it would be like to feel his hands on her…
Dude worked in silence for a bit longer before Cheyenne told him out of the blue, “I know you, you know.”
That surprised Dude and he took his attention from the bomb for a second and looked up briefly and met Cheyenne’s eyes before dropping his gaze and concentrating on the device again.
“Really?” he said. “Have we met?” Dude didn’t know if he would remember her or not. She wasn’t exactly looking her best at that moment, but what he saw, he liked.
Cheyenne nodded and told him, “I guess we haven’t really met, met, I’ve seen you around.”
Dude nodded, gritting his teeth, he was getting to a tricky part. “Ah, it is a small town,” he told her absently.
“It was actually here, we were both shopping, we passed each other in an aisle, and you helped me get a can down from the top shelf. I told you I could probably use the bottom shelf to step up and get it myself, but you insisted, for my own safety, that it was your duty to keep me out of danger….” Cheyenne’s voice trailed off and she mentally smacked her forehead in consternation. She hated her tendency to sometimes ramble. “I know you don’t remember, that’s okay, I’m sure it’s just your nature to help people.” They were both silent as Dude worked and merely nodded to acknowledge her words.
Dude took a deep breath. It was now or never. He thought he’d discovered the line that was connected to the C4 that was strapped to her chest. He could see the bomb also had at least two pounds of nails inside it. If it went off it would send shrapnel flying. They would certainly be dead, just as the gunman had said. He didn’t want to think about what Cheyenne’s body, or his own, would look like if those nails went flying.
Dude looked up at Cheyenne. “I’ve reached enough of this damn bomb so I can disarm it. Are you ready?”
Cheyenne looked into his eyes. He didn’t look nervous, he was calm and matter of fact. She tried to calm her heartbeat. If he was confident enough not to quake in his boots, she would be too. “I’m read
y,” she told him with far more bravado than she felt. Before he moved, she quickly asked, “Do you mind if I close my eyes?”
Dude chuckled, feeling amusement for the first time since he’d arrived on scene and had seen this woman. “I’d close mine too if I could,” he softly told her with a smile.
Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut. She was still all mummified in the duct tape, still couldn’t move much, but she felt lighter just by having him there.
Dude cut the last wire and waited.
Cheyenne’s eyes flew open to see Dude looking up at her expectantly. “What?” he asked her urgently. He didn’t think there was a secondary trigger, but it could be possible.
“I don’t feel it ticking anymore,” Cheyenne told him. “Was that it?”
Dude smiled and stood up, scooting the chair back as he did. He swiped his forehead with his bicep, removing the sweat that had built up there. “That was it. Let’s get out of here,” Dude told Cheyenne, reaching for her arm to guide her out of the store.
Cheyenne shook her head and pleaded with him. “Please…please take the rest of this tape off me now, before we go out there.”
Dude studied Cheyenne critically. She’d held up extraordinarily well. He’d worked in some situations where he had had to knock civilians out because they were hysterical and wouldn’t let him concentrate on working. This woman had not only stood there without moving, but she’d kept her calm at the same time. Dude really didn’t want to hurt her though, and he knew removing the tape was going to hurt.
“Cheyenne,” Dude started to deny her, but she interrupted him, frantically struggling against the bonds of what was left of the tape around her body. Now that the bomb was removed it was as if she couldn’t stand the feeling of being bound.
“Please, Faulkner, I can’t move…I can’t breathe…need to get out of this…I…” she stopped and panted a bit and looked at the floor. Cheyenne took a deep breath and stopped moving, obviously trying to get herself under control. “Never mind, I’m okay. Let’s go.”
Dude couldn’t help the feeling of rightness that went through him at the sound of his real name coming from between this woman’s lips. Oh, Ice and the other women used his name all the time, but somehow it sounded different coming from Cheyenne. Dude stopped her from stepping away from him with a hand on her tape covered arm. She hadn’t asked for much of anything during the whole ordeal, Dude figured he could give her this. “Calm down, Shy. Let me see what I can do. Lean back against the table.”
Cheyenne braced herself back on the table while Dude reached over and grabbed a large pair of scissors that had been sitting on the table behind them. He regretted not having his k-bar knife with him. Since he’d been at Aces with the guys, he hadn’t bothered to put it in his pocket before heading out for the night. Dude made a mental note to start carrying the damn thing with him wherever he went from now on.
He started at the bottom of the tape roll at her side and slowly snipped his way upward. The tape didn’t move as he snipped, as it was stuck to her arms as well as to her clothing and the remnants of the bomb. Dude then went to her other side and did the same thing. She wasn’t exactly free, but it was a start. He continued snipping around her on the tape until he’d gotten most of it cut.
Finally Dude looked at Cheyenne and said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but taking this tape off your arms is going to hurt.”
“I don’t care,” Cheyenne urged. “Just do it.”
She flinched when he ripped off the tape on her left arm. Cheyenne knew that most of her arm hair had probably gone with the tape, but she was afraid to look. She scrunched her eyes closed as she heard Dude take a deep breath.
“How bad is it?” Cheyenne asked him softly.
Dude took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He didn’t know what kind of adhesive was on the tape, but it’d been strong. There were places on her arms where some of her skin looked like it had been taken right off with the tape. It was red and blotchy, and extremely painful looking. You wouldn’t know it to look at Cheyenne though; she stood there stoically, waiting for his answer.
“Well,” Dude started. “It’s not too bad. I tried to be careful, but it’s gonna be painful for a while. Please don’t make me do that again,” he said, referring to her other arm.
Cheyenne sighed. How could she refuse him when he’d done so much for her already? What was left of the skin on her arm where the tape was removed hurt bad, but she figured pragmatically that it would’ve hurt a lot more if she’d been blown up into tiny pieces. “Okay, thank you for at least loosening it up.”
They looked at each other for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. They’d just been through a pretty intense experience.
Cheyenne looked at Faulkner and liked what she saw. She thought he was older than her, but not by much. He had dark hair, and dark eyes, which were looking at her as if she was the only other person on the planet. Cheyenne had always loved a man in uniform, and this man wore his well. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she kind of liked the intense look in his eyes as he peered down at her.
Dude looked down at the woman standing in front of him with respect. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was used to women being weak, his teammates’ women notwithstanding. The women he dated certainly were. Part of that was their submissive sexual desires, but it was more than that. Dude was used to taking charge and controlling those around him, but he hadn’t had to do much to take charge with Cheyenne. She was strong, and did what needed to be done, regardless of her feelings or what she wanted to do.
Dude couldn’t have stopped his hand from moving up to her hair to smooth it away from her flushed face if his life depended on it. “You’re an amazing woman, Cheyenne Cotton.” Dude lingered a beat as he ran his mangled hand over her hair to her shoulder, then he said, with a touch of regret, “Let’s get out of here.”
Dude carefully steered Cheyenne toward the front of the store. He put his hand on her lower back and they started walking to the front door. Cheyenne stopped when she saw the crowd that was outside the store. Of course there were police officers and military men around, but she also saw a lot of TV vans and cameras. She should’ve realized the media would be there, but she’d been worrying about other things…namely living through the last hour or so.
Cheyenne took a deep breath and said quietly to the man standing patiently next to her, “I know it’s asking a lot…but…..” she paused, nibbling her lip, trying to work up the courage to ask a huge favor of the strong military man standing next to her..
“Yes?” Dude prodded her gently.
“Will you hold my hand as we go out there?” Cheyenne looked up at him. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I don’t think I can face all of that,” she gestured toward the front of the store with her head, “right now.” Cheyenne could feel her face flame. She was so embarrassed, but she’d never felt as alone as she did looking at the mob she’d have to go through when she walked out the door.
Dude felt something shift deep inside of him. She was covered in grime and blood, she still had tape wrapped around most of her, her arm looked like it was horribly painful and all she wanted was someone to hold her hand. It was such a little request, but in his eyes it was huge. Women didn’t usually ask him for favors, they waited for him to dole them out. Dude’s respect for Cheyenne, in the face of everything she was feeling and going through, rose dramatically, and it was already pretty high.
He must have hesitated a bit too long before answering, because Cheyenne suddenly shook her head, looked down and mumbled, “Never mind, it was stupid anyway. Let’s go,” and started toward the door.
Dude caught her right hand in his left before she could take two steps and before he even thought about the fact she’d have to hold his injured hand. He’d made it a point never to hold a woman’s hand with his injured one. Ever. “Cheyenne,” he said softly, “it’s not stupid. There’s nothing I’d like better than to hold your hand as we face the lions together.
Come on.” The words were nothing but one hundred percent truth. Dude wasn’t above lying to get cooperation from someone, but he wasn’t lying now. The feel of Cheyenne’s fingers in his was something Dude knew he’d never forget. She wasn’t disgusted, she wasn’t repulsed, she simply tightened her fingers around his and held on for dear life, as if she couldn’t feel the scars and missing fingers on his hand. On the outside, she looked calm and composed, but the tight grip on his hand proved it to be a façade.
Cheyenne gripped Faulkner’s hand tightly in hers, swallowed hard, put her chin up, and took a deep breath. She started for the front door, hand in hand with the larger than life man next to her and knew, even with everything that had happened to her in the last few hours, she’d never forget this moment. Holding this man’s hand, letting him support her in that small way, meant more to her than any other gesture he could’ve made. She’d needed him and he hadn’t hesitated to step up to the plate. Not only step up, but not make her feel bad for asking in the process.
Cheyenne blocked out the questions from the reporters, the police officers’ demands, the lights, the noise…all of it, and concentrated on holding on to Faulkner’s hand and following him wherever he wanted to lead her.
Chapter Four
Cheyenne sat in the lobby of the emergency room waiting for her taxi. The walk from the front of the store to the ambulance was a nightmare she didn’t want to think about. The only good part was Faulkner’s strength as he helped clear the way for her. At one point she’d been jostled hard enough that she would’ve fallen to the ground if it hadn’t been for Faulkner. He’d taken his hand out of her own and wrapped his arm around her waist and curled her into his body. Cheyenne hadn’t even been ashamed to lean into him and let him help her.
With everything she’d been through in the last few hours, it had felt so good to be held tight and safe against Faulkner’s side and let him deal with making sure they made it through all the people safely. He’d helped her over to the ambulance and made sure she’d settled into the gurney without any issues. Once she was sitting and stable, Faulkner had kissed the top of her head briefly and squeezed her hand one last time. The last Cheyenne had seen of him was as he’d backed out of the ambulance. He’d given her a smile and a half wave before the doors shut in his face.
