Page 11 of Damned
“Hey there,” he soothed as he took hold of her hand. “You’ll be okay.”
Bree still lay on Kruze’s blanket, too weak and too tired to pull herself upright to sit. Again, the man she’d once thought she’d loved, held her life in his hands. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but it did.
“The women in charge of me said General Berfendealways wanted an American woman. I’m the perfect, gullible idiot who walked into his trap, Kruze. Don’t you get it? He’ll be angry once he finds out that I got away. He and his men are probably already looking for me. They’ll kill you if they catch us. Me, they’ll probably—” Bree couldn’t say the word. They’d kill her in the same gruesome way they’d killed Mehmet. After they’d brutalized and degraded her. And then they’d dance on her dead body while they sang hosannas to Allah.
Carefully, Kruze tugged her off the floor, folded her onto his lap, and into his arms. “Hey,” he breathed as he pressed her head under his chin and made sure his jacket still covered her backside. He readjusted the blanket on her legs. “No one’s going to catch us. It’s been a helluva day and you’re exhausted. You need to eat. Then you’ll feel better.”
And Bree was back where she’d once thought she’d belonged. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. Should she tell him? Did she dare? No. He’d had his chance. She shrugged out of his arms, her palms flat to his chest.
“We don’t have time. We need to run, now,” she told him earnestly. “You have a sat phone. Use it. Call someone to get us out of here.”
“Already called back-up, sugar. They’ll be here as soon as they can. Just breathe. You’re hyperventilating.”
“Stop calling me that!” Bree put a sting in her words to get him moving. “They killed the Turkish photographer I was traveling with. Mehmet was a sweet, gentle man with a wife and two kids. They tortured him, Kruze. Don’t you get it? We need to run before they find us and torture and kill you. It doesn’t matter what they do to me. I deserve it for being so stupid, but you don’t.”
By the time she’d finished begging, her throat was dry and her bottom lip had cracked. Bree swiped her finger over that patch of bleeding, chapped skin. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, some actual shampoo, lotions, and deodorant. A toothbrush and toothpaste would be nice. A tiny tear glistened at the corner of her eye for all she’d lost these past months. Her dignity. Her human rights. Her American-ness. All the little things she’d taken for granted were gone. If her parents could see her now. There wasn’t a day she hadn’t thanked God for them.
Instead of arguing, Kruze tipped back on his haunches, reached into his bag, and produced a small, black tube. Thumbing its cap off, he reached between them, smoothed the emollient over her lips, and… Bree closed her eyes and stopped ranting. The emollient wasn’t thick and waxy, but slick, soft, and soothing. That tiny tube of kindness felt good, so did her hands on his chest.
“Better?” Kruze asked quietly, the tender light on his face hard to miss.
Bree’s fingertips tingled. They remembered that hard wall of muscle. She flexed her fingers, just because he felt good. And warm. “Do you have any breath mints?” she asked, just in case this ended in a kiss.
“Sure. Want one?”
“Yes, please,” she replied, embarrassed at her wretched pleading, but so damned hopeful.
As easily as if he rescued desperate women every day, Kruze dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out an already opened roll of peppermint wonderfulness. “Here. Keep it. I’ve got another.”
Greedily, Bree peeled one perfect, sparkly white disk out of the foil. When she popped it into her mouth, an exquisite explosion of zesty mint hit her tongue first, her sinuses second. She coughed, surprised that an American-made breath mint could reduce her to tears. She’d toughed out starvation, dehydration, a rash of painful sores on her backside, two months of utter hell, and so much abuse. How on earth had a tiny tube of wax and one minty lozenge tipped her over the edge?
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re just scared,” he murmured, his hands so big and warm, once again holding her steady, when that was the last thing she was. “Go ahead, cry. It’ll do you good.”
Squeezing her eyes tight, Bree wished she were bigger, braver, and meaner. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel like a weak, little girl. Dragging her sore fingers over her face, she wiped her tears away and met Kruze’s steady gaze. “You’re right. I am scared.”
“Well, don’t be. We’re up high enough, and, with my scope, I can see for miles. We’re safe. No one’s coming for us. I would’ve told you if they were.”
As big as he was, Kruze’s hold was gentle. But now was not the time to be nice. Bree pushed away from him. He was her biggest heartache and her worst mistake. She didn’t want to need him like she did.
Instead of releasing her, he settled her firmly back under his chin and against his chest. Her ear landed over his heart, and she couldn’t help it. Like before, she was too weak to resist him. Her entire body snuggled into this ruggedly handsome man-pillow.
“You’re not going anywhere. We’re here for the night,” he told her, his voice even and low like she remembered, a baritone purr, like big, burly jungle cats made when they were as happy as kittens.
“But I don’t want to.” She knew she sounded like a spoiled brat, but Bree had no more to give, not even to save herself. “I know what I’m talking about. You have to listen to me.”
“I am listening, sugar, and I believe you. Josephus isn’t anyone to toy with, and General Berfendeis a cruel son of a bitch. But neither of those asshats can get to you, and you have to trust me, too. I’ve been in these mountains before, and I know about Berfende’s army.They’re not a well-trained militia. Most are dirt-poor farmers, just trying to survive. They’re not the zealot he is, and friendly forces are in the air to us right now. All we have to do is stay put until they show. We’ll be okay.”
“But what if Josephus finds us first? What if—?”
Kruze’s index finger landed on her lips. “Shush, sugar. It’s too dark to climb, it’s snowing, and you’re in no condition to walk. We need to eat. I’ll keep you warm. Remember that hot toddy I promised?”
She looked up at Kruze, her hand once again splayed on his chest, two of her fingers stuck between his shirt’s buttons. That insignificant invasion of his personal space was another one of those tiny normal things that shouldn’t overwhelm Bree with its insignificant significance. But it did. True, her fingers were only touching his undershirts, not his skin. But the simple contact with this familiar man warmed her in ways she hadn’t expected.
Kruze was larger than life, and he’d come for her. Just her. True, he still hadn’t recognized her, but he had risked his life saving her. Yes, he was complicated and gruff one moment, kind to a fault the next, and he was uncommonly handsome in a rugged, untamed way. He surely could be an ass. Kruze was certainly all-male, one of those capable, highly-trained warriors the military produced. He knew precisely how to survive in this unforgiving environment, and he had gotten her away from Josephus, those mean-hearted women, and possibly Berfende.
Because of Kruze, for the first time in months, Bree felt incredibly safe and fiercely protected. Sheltered even. And so very thankful.
“You didn’t have to, but you saved me.”
