Titanium Page 11
With our heads on the pillow I'd brought from home, we talked about nothing until he spit some of my hair out of his mouth.
I sat up. "Sorry. I meant to put it in a ponytail."
"Don't. I like it this way."
When I lay back down, I faced him. His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly adjusted and let me snuggle up. "Will you be able to sleep with the leg on?" I rubbed my bare foot down the prosthetic.
"No, which is why I haven't taken it off. I promised I'd keep the mice away, remember?"
"Forget the mice. I have." Impulsively I brushed my lips over his to test his reaction.
He tensed, but didn't stop me.
Encouraged, I kissed him again, this time a full-on lip lock that was still a bit tame considering the scorchers we'd shared earlier. But I wanted him to take the lead this time.
Zander did just what I'd hoped, sweeping his tongue over my lips. I parted them. He frenched me. I loved it. With my heart hammering in the best of ways, I crawled on top of him and sat up, my thighs straddling his torso. I boldly pulled my thermal tee up and over my head, which left me in bikinis and the sleep pants.
He sat up, too, kissing me again and again while I hurriedly rid him of his shirt. I pressed my upper body against his as we made out and didn't stop him when he touched me as he had before. In fact, I encouraged it, loving the tantalizing flick of his tongue, and how warm his hands felt against my chilled flesh.
I went for the waistband of his sweats. He sucked in a sharp breath and pinned my hands in his, his gaze boring into mine. "Why?"
Because I love you.
No, too soon. "Because I want you, of course."
Zander lay back and groaned. "This is bad. This is so freakin' bad."
Not the response I expected. Naturally, I recoiled, more confused than I'd ever been. "Because you don't want me?"
"Hell no. Because I don't deserve you."
"Believe me, I'm no bargain."
"I disagree, but it's not just that. I'm no good for any woman."
Again? "Don't you think that's my decision to make?"
"Not when you can't think straight."
"Do you read minds?"
He rubbed his hand over his head, unconsciously messing his hair. "I told you before that I didn't."
"Then how do you know I'm not thinking straight?" I climbed off him and reached for my top.
"Because you have such a big heart that you might not realize what's really going on here. You deserve so much more than a cripple with broken dreams."
"So you're worried this is pity sex."
"Exactly!" He sounded so relieved that I'd finally gotten it.
"Bullshit!"
He blinked.
"Don't you dare play that card. There's nothing wrong with you that we can't work around."
"But--"
"Nothing. If I got hurt and lost an arm or something, would you abandon me?"
"Of course not."
"Ditto." I finished yanking down the hem of my shirt and pulled a coated band off my wrist to hold my hair back, twisting the tresses into a messy ponytail with agitated movements. "And for your information, another of your body parts was on my mind when I kissed you. In fact, I didn't give your stupid leg or lack of it a moment's thought."
Zander just looked at me.
"Everything isn't about you and your war wounds, okay? If you don't want me, say so. Or, better yet, don't speak at all. It won't make a difference. I'll still want you, and I don't think you're getting laid often enough to turn down sex, even if you're not particularly attracted to me."
His mouth moved, but no words came out.
"Nod if you can hear me."
Zander came to life, quickly nodding. "I don't know what to say."
"I'll make this easy for you. Blink once if you want sex. Blink twice if you don't."
He blinked once. We went for each other, kissing like crazy, each one better than the one before it. He touched me. I touched him. Once again, I sat up to pull my shirt over my head.
The sharp snap of a tree branch right outside made both of us jump. Zander slapped a hand over my mouth as if sensing the scream in my throat. I rolled off of him. He got to his feet, cursing softly and stumbling into the wall. Precious moments were lost tugging at the prosthesis, which must've slipped.
The low howl of something wild sent shivers up my spine. I crawled to the corner of the room and stood with my back to it while Zander snagged his hoodie and stepped into his shoes. He quietly exited the house, which made no sense at all to me. A chilly wind swept through the room in his wake. I huddled in my corner for several seconds, scared out of my mind. But something weird happened. Slowly but surely my fear turned to anger.
Was I really cowering in the dark while someone I loved faced danger alone?
Before I could change my mind, I stepped into my boots and ran lightly through the open doorway and into the dark in search of Zander. I stopped just outside the door, listening, but heard nothing. With my heart jack hammering, my stomach in a twist, and no real plan of action, I headed east around the house, pausing frequently to listen. Nothing. I moved on, rounding the southeast corner and running smack into Zander. He shoved me so hard that I landed on my butt in a huge pile of leaves.
"S'me!" My words were barely a whisper in the dark.
"Riley? Shit! I could've killed you." He yanked me to my feet.
"With what?" I whispered as I brushed wet leaves off my rear. "A coat hanger?"
He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a gun.
I fell back in horror. "Where'd you get that thing?"
"It's a Glock 22, not a 'thing.' And I've had it since I got back from Afghanistan."
"Why?"
He hesitated, and when he did answer, I barely heard him. "I had my reasons. Now would you please go back inside? No, wait. I'd better go, too, and make sure the cabin's still empty."
Wishing I'd stayed put so we'd already know, I took the hand he offered me and followed as he skirted the exterior, entered through the front door, and searched the place. Only then did I relax. "Did you see anything outside?"
"Nothing. Everything is fine."
"What do we do now?"
"Sleep."
As if I could, but I pasted on my game face. "That's boring. Why don't we take up where we left off? You, me, sex."
"Not happening."
"Why?"
"There are so many reasons I don't even know where to start. Bottom line: not here, not tonight."
The flickering firelight revealed Zander's determined expression.
I guessed why he'd changed his mind. Over the past week, I'd become one man-sized burden, something I'd never intended to do. He'd taken on me and my problems, not once complaining even though they'd ridiculously complicated his life. And now I wanted sex, something that always changed things whether or not the ones involved meant for it to.
Cutting him some slack, I crawled back into the sleeping bag without a word. Zander zipped it to my neck and stretched out on the plaid couch a few feet away.
Zander
The weight of the gun on my belly made me feel safer, something I credited to my time in Afghanistan. There, a weapon equated to preparation and protection. Without it, there was no defense against a fully armed enemy as changeable as a chameleon.
As a special operations weapons sergeant, I'd become adept at what they called unconventional warfare tactics and techniques-- in my case a psychic skill--as well as the conventional ones, which included firearms.
Before I joined up, I'd only owned a rifle that I used deer hunting with my grandpop before he died. To be honest, I didn't even know where it was now. I suspected my mother had gotten rid of it. She didn't like guns any more than Riley did. I couldn't blame either of them. Guns could be scary in the hands of the bad, and, sometimes, in the hands of the good.
Assuming things were ever that black and white.
Which they weren't.
All I kn
ew is that my country's Constitution gave me the right to be armed. Soldiers had died protecting that Constitution-- soldiers I'd known and loved. Husbands, sons, brothers, dads. Wives, daughters, sisters, moms. So no matter how anyone else felt about the gun issue, I respected the right to bear arms and believed our forefathers had been correct in writing an amendment ensuring our freedom to choose how we kept ourselves safe.
Did I buy the Glock because I planned to kill someone? Of course not. I'd seen enough death to last ten lifetimes, most of it resulting from something that exploded--bombs, missiles, shells...you name it. I owned the gun because I'd fought for freedom, and freedom in the USA meant I had the right to carry it. Besides that, I wanted to protect the ones I loved.
Bottom line: I'd paid dearly for the privilege to be armed.
And while I never carried my concealed weapon to the mall, or the park, or a restaurant, I was damn glad I had it now.
Chapter Fifteen
Riley
Surprisingly, I slept. And when I woke on Saturday, I found Zander zonked out on the couch. Glad he'd rested, too, I dressed and slipped outside to made tracks to the quaint outhouse, with my gaze bouncing from tree to tree. The wooden stall didn't smell as bad as I'd expected. When I stepped outside moments later, I spotted a cast iron hand pump mounted on a square of concrete. I tried it out and finally got gushing cold water for my trouble. I washed my face, gasping when the icy splash touched my warm skin.
I belatedly realized Zander was standing on the porch, watching me. Deliberately not thinking of last night's rejection, I flashed a smile that came right from the heart. He slowly descended the steps, the oddest look on his face, and walked right up to me.
"What?" I asked, baffled by the vibe I got.
"You are so damn beautiful." He sort of swooped in, planting a hard kiss right on my lips. I staggered back slightly, but recovered, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him back with abandon. When we ended it, he didn't let me go. "Would you really have slept with me last night?"
"Slept with you?"
He smiled.
I framed his face with my hands. "Yes, Zander, I would've slept with you--last night, today, now..." I brazenly cupped my boobs.
Zander groaned.
I just laughed at him. "We're going to need some groceries to get us through the weekend, assuming we're staying that long. And I should've asked last night, but do you have condoms? Because I don't."
"You're killing me, baby."
That made me very happy. "So are we staying all weekend or what?"
"Definitely staying."
As we turned toward the house, Zander froze in place. "What the..."
My gaze followed his to the truck. It took a second, but I realized all four tires were flat. Slashed? My blood ran cold. "Oh God. They're here."
"That's impossible unless they've stuck a GPS to the truck or something. Never thought of that." He started toward it, but then stopped to glance back at me. "Would you try to locate a tire dealer? Looks like we need four." Zander actually told me the size as he moved forward and knelt to peer underneath the pickup.
"Wouldn't it be better to call Sergeant Brian?"
He didn't answer.
"Zander! Should I call Brian?"
"Huh? Oh. No. He's city. This is county. I'll report it after I check things out."
With a sigh, I walked back to the cabin and opened the door. The minute I stepped inside, someone clamped a smelly hand over my mouth from behind. My feet came up off the floor. I kicked and clawed...until a third man stepped into view. He wore a silver full-cover mask. Shocked to see it, I froze just long enough for him to plaster duct tape across my mouth.
Angry shouts outside made me twist to see what was happening, but I couldn't. A single shot rang out. And then a second one. I fought with everything I had, but a cloth bag, black and heavy, dropped over my head. Duct tape secured it around my neck. More tape bound my wrists and ankles. One of them tossed me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing.
A blast of cool air told me we'd left the cabin, probably through the back door. The uneven gait of my captor meant we were crossing some pretty rough ground. I soon heard the lap of water and felt the bobbing of a watercraft as he unsteadily boarded it, almost losing his balance in the process. Cursing, he tossed me onto a cold metal floor I knew was the deck of a boat.
My heart raced. I strained to hear if Zander was safe. I got nothing. The boat rocked as others boarded it--two for sure, maybe even three. I heard the motor roar to life. The boat, which must've been big, tilted back and picked up speed. Cold, damp air tugged at my clothes, chilling me to the bone.
We flew across the lake. During that time, no one talked at all. Finally the hum of the motor slowed to a putt-putt that could only mean we'd reached our destination. Helpless to get away, I endured being lifted and carried to a vehicle. Someone threw me inside, banging my elbow and knee. A door that sounded heavy slid and slammed shut. A van, maybe? I felt the vehicle shift as at least two people got into the front, and I heard those doors shut, too. The motor revved. The crunch of gravel beneath the tires told me we were on the move again.
Zander, where are you?
I pictured him hurt or dead and began to cry, even though my hopeful heart provided another scenario, one in which Zander had escaped and run for help. But he'd never leave me. I knew that as surely as I knew I loved him. Something had happened back there, and whatever it was couldn't be good.
I began to pick at the tape around my neck, but wasn't able to peel a single edge from the bag that blinded me. It was that sticky.
Had one hour passed? Two? Dazed by fear, I thought we'd never stop. Finally someone killed the engine and, in the resulting silence, I heard gravel crunch as another vehicle pulled in behind us. That engine went silent, too. I was ready for the guy who slid open the side door and blindly kicked at him with both feet. He simply grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me out, immediately throwing me over his shoulder. His hand cupping my butt held me there.
I could see and smell nothing, and no one said a word. How many were there? I tried to tell, based on the footfalls, but quickly gave that up. It didn't really matter how many were involved. Taped and blindfolded, I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
We went up two steps, across a flat space, and down at least twenty. Were they putting me in a basement? Anything but a hole in a barn where I might be forgotten like Tess in that movie. I landed hard on a concrete floor a moment later. A knife freed my wrists and ankles. I instantly went for the bag, but still couldn't get hold of the sticky tape securing it to my neck. Hands pushed mine away. A knife slit the tape there, nicking my flesh. I cried out with pain.
"Oopsy."
Furious, I jerked the bag off my head, but still saw nothing. The mouth tape came next, ripping off some of my lip with it. I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision, and yelped when a bright light blinded me. Someone set a flashlight on the floor, a few inches from my leg. Though the shadows it threw into the corners were deep, I could make out dark silhouettes within them. Men. Five of them at least. One stepped forward. I saw that creepy silver mask again and abruptly realized who it was supposed to be. Titanium. The antihero beloved around the world, but not by me.
Never by me.
Did that mean this whole thing revolved around Steve McConnell? I could actually believe it. His movie deal had blown up the internet, and movie critics, entertainment shows, and trendy magazines were still fueling the rage. In short, Steve's sell out had shocked the world. Even worse was his casting of Cory Walls in the part of Eric...or so everyone seemed to think.
But what did all that have to do with me, the daughter he hadn't laid eyes on in ten years or even contacted until mere days ago?
My heart stopped.
Was that it? Had a single out-of-the-blue email set this nightmare in motion? Only if someone had hacked my father's account, I thought. No one would bother getting into mine.
Zander
I rolled off Marty and onto my back. He gave me a thumbs up, even though I could see he'd been hurt. To my right, Dom lay sprawled under the splintered remains of the table I'd shoved over. He writhed in agony. A gut wound.
I looked around for Joey and found him lying nearby, his eyes open, his body a bloody tangle of muscle and bare bone. I'd tried to warn him, but he'd been closest to the kid. I belly-crawled to get to him and feel for a pulse. My fingers slipped off his jugular. So much blood. I put my ear to his chest. Nothing. But I still couldn't hear shit. I thought of his wife and kids. Joey could not be dead. He just couldn't.
"Medic! Over here!" I yelled.
A couple of guys got to us. One knelt to check out Joey. The other set his gun aside and took off his belt, looping it around my leg. I struggled to see why. My whole left side looked like mush, my camo fatigues were in blood-stained shreds, and below them the remains of my left boot lay in a spreading pool of red. "Don't move, Sarge."
I could barely answer with my mouth so dry. "I need water."
A drop of wet landed on my forehead. The battle ground slowly receded. My eyes opened. For several seconds I lay there in utter confusion, trying to get my bearings. Muddy ground. Storm clouds. Trees. Where in the hell was I?
Plunk.
Plunk. Plunk.
Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Ping.
The skies opened up. Rain mixed with sleet quickly soaked my face and clothing. With a curse and a shiver, I sat up and looked around, noting that my truck stood within reach, the door wide open and the key alarm buzzing. Stuck somewhere between reality and my nightmare, I raised my head to check out my legs. I saw that my jeans had been cut from hem to just above my left knee, a ragged slice. My prosthesis was nowhere in sight. Some asshole's idea of a joke, I guess.
All at once everything came crashing in. A cabin. Those amazing kisses. Flat tires. I knew exactly where I was.