Page 6 of Damned
When she groaned and writhed against the hard, stone floor, Kruze swallowed his guilt and promised to make amends the first chance he could. Kneeling over her like he was, he caught the wince that crept over her face when she shifted her weight. She wasn’t comfortable. She was hurting. Again, he worried he wouldn’t be able to help her as much as she might need. How did a dumbass like him ever begin to comfort a rape victim?
Banks whimpered. Her eyes snapped open. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved. She blinked up at him, then blinked again, as if she recognized him. How strange was that?
He’d probably scared her by hulking over her like he was. “It’s okay. Don’t panic or scream. You’re safe, ma’am,” he blurted. “It’s just me, the guy who rescued you. We’re both safe. We’re in a cave high up on the mountainside. As soon as you’re able, we’ll get the hell, err, heck, out of here. That sound like a good plan?”
The first words out of her mouth hurt his pride. “I… I don’t believe I’m talking to you. Go away. L-leave me alone.”
The poor thing would rather suffer than talk to him? That served Kruze right. He shook his head, willing to plow through any argument she might come up with. “No can do, ma’am. You’re in need of assistance, and, believe it or not, I’m here to assist. Dinner’s nearly warm. Just MREs. It won’t be hot, but it’ll suffice. Want another drink?”
Her pert nose turned up at him, as if she had a choice. But when she reached her fingers to her face and found those fingers swamped in rugged, albeit dirty, camouflaged sleeves… When that same hand slipped over her head and found his one and only knit cover there… Her expression changed from haughty to tearful. “You gave me your jacket and hat? But it’s so cold. Aren’t you freezing?”
Kruze shook his head, damned sorry for jumping to conclusions. Didn’t making unfounded assumptions make an ass out of him every time? He wished he’d learn. “I’m not cold. ’Sides, you need it more, and my shirt’s quilted with extra-soft lamb’s wool, and I’m wearing two undershirts beneath it.”And I’m babbling.Kruze shut his trap before he put both feet back into it.
“We… we have dinner? Real honest to goodness f-food?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m warming up three packs of the best dehydrated chicken and noodles on the market, but I can make more if that’s not enough.” He’d planned on two of those packets for himself, but now that he saw starvation glinting in her pale eyes, he’d settle for cheese and crackers and let her have all of the warm food.
“Whoareyou?”
The way she asked made him wonder if that were a rhetorical question, one that didn’t need an answer. He answered anyway. “Kruze Sinclair, at your service, Ms. Banks. Sorry if you were expecting SEALs, but I’m former SEAL, and I’m here, and—”
“You? You’re all there is?”
Okay, he deserved that dig, too. Kruze nodded.
“Who sent you, my boss?”
“Not sure of all the details, but my boss works directly for President Adams. I’m guessing he gave the final go-ahead for me to come take you home.”
The tiniest “Oh” breathed out of Banks. “Umm…” Her top teeth worried her poor, chapped bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to slow you down before, but I… I…” There went those even, white teeth again, chattering with cold or fear, he could only guess which. Her right hand slipped up and out of the jacket sleeve. “I need a little help. Something happened to me in that camp, and I… I can’t help myself or reach it. Err, them. Err, I’m sure sorry, but—”
Kruze reached out and grabbed her hand to calm the tears before they started. Crying women were not his forte. But the moment their hands touched, he had the feeling he’d done this before. Somewhere… Damned if he could recall where or when or if the feeling was even real. “Whatever you need, ma’am, I’ll help you. Promise.”Even if it’s a feminine-type problem that’ll scare me to death.He swallowed hard, but asked, “How can I make amends for being an ass to you before?”God, please don’t let her tell me she’s been raped.
Banks used his firm grip to pull herself into an awkward position, sitting more on her hip than her backside. “You were quite harsh,” she murmured without a hint of disdain. If anything, she looked like she was in pain. “But I am thankful you got me out of there. You saved my life.” A big, fat tear welled in the corner of her eye.
Something niggled in the back of Kruze’s mind at the way she sat there and the inflection in her voice. Banks reminded him of someone, somewhere else. Kinda. Sort of. Maybe…
“Just doing my job, ma’am. What do you need?”Please, don’t cry.
Her lashes fell. “Well, you see, those people, m-my captors held a wedding celebration, and there was this enormous bonfire, and that’s when they let me, umm, out of the… the h-h-hole.”
“They kept you in a hole?”The bastards!“Did they hang you?” he spat.
Her hand went to the chafed ring around her neck. “Not exactly,” she murmured, but yes, they kept me in the bottom of a hole, like a post hole, only deeper and colder. Straight d-d-down.” Her voice quavered, and she licked her poor bottom lip. “But not much wider. There wasn’t enough room to move or sit. All I could do was s-s-stand, and it was frightfully cold, and…”
Her throat clenched and Kruze couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and pulled the woman he’d thought was his archenemy onto his lap and into his arms.
Her breath hitched when her backside landed on his thighs. “Ouch. Darn. Anyway…” Her tongue ran one slow lap over that poor, chapped bottom lip. “That’s not important anymore.”
Kruze had to top her there. “It’s important to me, ma’am.”
She accepted the earnest sincerity of his declaration with a nod of quiet grace, then went on to tell him, “That’s nice. But I guess they let me out because of the upcoming w-wedding. All the men were drinking, and some of them got drunk and threw their empty bottles into the fire, and they exploded, and…” She shrugged like he knew what that meant.
Kruze nodded, not quite understanding but committed to help any way he could. “Bottles’ll do that, sure. Glass explodes. Did you get cut? Do you need a bandage or something? I’ve got plenty of first-aid supplies.” He turned her much smaller hand over in his palm, checking to see if he’d missed an injury when he’d washed it before.
“No, Kruze, err, Mr. Sinclair. The cuts aren’t on my hands or arms. They’re, umm…” She hesitated, then murmured, “…on the backs of my legs and my—”
“You’ve got glass in your ass?!” That thing in his head called a filter didn’t always engage quickly enough. But occasionally, when Kruze remembered to use it, it came in handy. Not this time. “Err, yeah sure, I mean…”Spit it out.“I’ll do whatever I can to help you, ma’am. Let’s see what you’ve got, umm, need.”
