Solace in Scandal. Kimberly Dean
person inside didn’t hear her. They were setting up a racket, pounding on the door and scratching at it.
She lifted her hands to protect her face when they started kicking.
‘Hey!’ she yelled.
A roar responded. He’d heard her this time. ‘Out! Get me out!’
Her breath caught in her throat. She recognised that voice.
‘Now!’
She lurched back into action. ‘Stop kicking.’
Again, in his panic, the man didn’t listen. He was going at that door like his life depended on it.
‘Alex!’
The racket fell and the noise level dropped so suddenly, it was jarring. Still, Elena swore she could hear ragged breaths coming through the sturdy wooden door. She approached cautiously and laid her hand over the handle. ‘Alex, is that you?’
‘Elena?’
His voice was thin, and her name sounded plaintive. Urgency clawed at her.
‘Is it the lock? Are you stuck?’ She twisted the handle on the door and pushed, but nothing happened. She tried again, feeling him help from the other side, but something was blocking the door’s natural movement. Her brain began clicking as she sized up the situation.
‘Open it,’ he ordered, his voice brusque. ‘Damn it. Get it open!’
She yelped when he started kicking again. She could see the door bowing as he made contact, but he was kicking out, while the door swung inwards.
‘Wait! Hold on!’ She turned the handle and felt the latch open fine. Putting her shoulder into it, she shoved again. The top corner of the door swung in, but the bottom held tight. She knelt down when she found the source of the problem. ‘The gym mat is lodged under the bottom corner.’
She reeled back when the door starting shaking again.
‘You’re making it worse. Alex! Let me help you.’
He stopped abruptly. She pounced while she had the chance, talking out loud to keep him distracted. ‘It’s wedged in tight. Kicking it will only make it worse, and you aren’t Bruce Lee. You can’t kick through it.’
Although he’d certainly tried.
How long had he been locked in? Trapped like a wild animal?
No matter what she thought of him, the idea of that kind of suffering made her throat hurt. He wasn’t one who was built to be tied down. He could barely stand to be in this gigantic house for a full day. ‘Let me just try something.’
She let out a grunt as she fisted her hands around the mat and pulled. The corner of the door only dug deeper into the rubber.
‘Elena?’ His voice was raw, more a harsh whisper than tone now.
‘It’s coming,’ she promised. Sitting down, she braced her feet against the wall to give herself leverage. ‘Don’t do anything. I’m right behind the door.’
She tugged again, her teeth gritting at the effort. She could feel him on the other side of that door, hovering and fidgeting.
‘Did you try the hinges?’ She needed to keep him talking. She needed to calm him down. If she let him slip into a panic, he’d only work against her.
‘I broke two combs trying to pry them out.’
He was standing just on the other side of the door, his voice right above her. It was intimidating, but he was focused. That was good. Anything to pull him back from the brink. She began pulling on the mat, working it back and forth. It was malleable, but so heavy-duty she could hardly lift it. It wasn’t one of the thick cushy mats everyone did sit-ups on, it was the rubbery kind that gyms laid across their walkways and underneath equipment.
‘That was innovative.’ She smiled fiercely when the right side of the mat slipped out a good inch.
‘Not really,’ he said in that raspy voice. ‘You should see what inmates can make with those things.’
She froze.
‘No, I take that back,’ he said more softly. ‘You should never see that.’
That edge was back in his voice. She had to get him out of there now. She looked around the room for something she could use. For all the shiny equipment and heavy free weights, there wasn’t much. Besides, she didn’t think cutting the mat was the right way to go.
She kept wiggling it with her feet braced like a rower. Her shoulders began to ache at the effort, but then she fell backwards.
‘Ooo, almost.’
She felt his anticipation jump and wondered how she could ever miss him when he was walking through the forest. He was standing on the other side of a slab of wood. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his presence. His heat was blistering.
It made her uneasy. She’d never seen him like this. Every time they’d crossed paths, he’d been cool and contained. Low-key and reined-in.
Except for that time in the garden.
‘Can you lift on the handle?’ she asked. ‘Pull up.’
Before she even finished the question, she felt the resistance give. She yanked on the rubber mat and her momentum swung. She rolled halfway onto her back when the stupid thing popped loose.
‘Ha!’ She scrambled to her feet and stepped back, getting out of the way. She brushed off her bottom, but the door stood eerily still.
Why wasn’t he –
Oh, God. She’d told him not to do anything, that he could hurt her if he came out suddenly.
She sprang forward and grabbed the door handle. It turned smoothly, and the door swung silently on its hinges as she opened it. It stopped halfway when masculine fingers curled around the edge. Those fingers turned white, and he pulled the door open so wide it banged against the bathroom vanity.
That ache in Elena’s throat spread to her chest when she finally saw him. He looked haggard. His colour was ashen, although heat and humidity poured out of the room. The lines of his cheekbones were harsh, and his jaw was set like a master lock. His eyes, though … Those icy grey eyes glinted with something raw and wild. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
He jammed his foot in front of the door and she winced when she saw the bruising and swelling that had already started. He’d been kicking at that door with his bare feet.
Then again, that wasn’t all about him that was bare.
She swallowed hard. He must have been taking a shower when he’d gotten trapped, because all he was wearing was a towel. A loose, very insecure towel. It sat low on his waist, with the knot looking like it could slip at any moment.
Awareness prickled along her skin and her face warmed. She’d known he was fit, but this went beyond that. He was ripped. Lean and animal-like.
Beautiful.
He started moving then, determined to get out of the tiny room. Her gaze snapped up and she stepped back to make way.
Only he didn’t stop coming at her.
Instinctively, she lifted her hand. To stop him or ground him, she didn’t know. He came out of his makeshift prison like a bull coming out of a gate, and her palm spread wide across his warm, muscled chest. The contact was shocking, but she gasped aloud when he touched her. He caught her by the shoulders, his grip hot and urgent. Their gazes locked and her heart kicked like that bucking bull that just escaped.
‘You,’ he rasped. His hot breaths hit her square in the face.
They stared at each other, chests working. Electricity passed between them, creating a full circuit through touch. His fervency transferred to her; her agitation swam back to him. The tension in