Page 142 of Coerced

“Do you trust me?”

“I let you wield scissors against my skin.”

She laughed and, next thing I knew, she was pressed against my back and her arms were under mine. Her hands locked in a knot in the center of my chest.

“Lean back against me and bend your knees,” she ordered. “Don’t be afraid to put your weight on me. I’m stronger than you’d think.”

“A controlled descent, huh? Well, we can but try.”

“Butt is right,” she snickered, “if that towel slips any lower.”

“Mira!”

“Sorry. I won’t look if it does. I promise.”

“Thank you for that, at least.” I puffed out an irritated breath. “This is ridiculous!”

“It’ll be worth it!”

With her careful assistance, I sank down until said butt touched the bottom of the tub.

“Whew!” She pretended to wipe sweat from her forehead. “Scoot down some more so the tape gets wet.”

When I was finally lying down, she slid a folded towel behind my head, then sat on the toilet lid and started to read my book aloud. I shut my eyes and listened to her honey voice as my muscles started to unbunch, the hot water and salt doing wonders for my aching body. After about thirty minutes, though, I’d had enough and wanted out.

“I’m going to help you sit up first, okay?” Mira, the heathen, folded the edge of the page over and laid the book on the sink counter. “I want to get rid of the tape and look at your wounds to see if they’re closing. If they’re not, you may need stitches.”

“Are you going to sew me up?”

“If I need to.” She knelt next to the tub. “I can do anything that needs to be done.”

“I know that.” I met her eyes. “I know you can, Mira.”

We stared at each other for a few moments until she blinked and looked away, her cheeks a pretty pink. Then she helped me sit up and checked to see if the duct tape had loosened. Her fingers seemed to beeverywhereand I was suddenly thankful the bath water had begun to cool.

“Mira?”

“Hmm?”

“Can wepleasenot tell this story to anyone?”

She grinned, reached behind her, and summoned a familiar blue and yellow can of penetrating oil found in every garage and workshop across the country. Starting with a section of tape that had been softened in the bath, she sprayed a little of the oil on her index finger, rubbed it where my skin and the adhesive met, and gently worked the threads loose.

“Wow.” I was impressed. “You’re much better at this than the others.”

“They don’t understand pain like we do. Well, except for Kerry, and I don’t suppose he was any help at all. He woulda had to touch you.”

“He did pretty good the one time I needed him,” I admitted.

She froze, and I wondered what I’d said.

“That’s why you never got up off the floor.” Her golden eyes blazed. “When I … had that moment back at the motel. You couldn’t do it, could you? I thought you were making sure I didn’t feel threatened.”

“I was. I didn’t know how else to help you.” I summoned up a wry smile. “AndI couldn’t get up. I’d used too much power to stave off the pain and was seized up.”

She glared at me for a moment, then dropped her eyes and went back to work.

“Tell me more about Chance and Spin,” she demanded. “It’ll take your mind off of this.”

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