Locked and Loaded. HelenKay Dimon
to let go of me.”
“Not going to happen.”
“If we’re just going to stand here, you better figure out how close our visitors are. I’d hate to die because you’re busy making a plan and not moving from the middle of a room.”
“Fine.” He let go of her but kept his hands right by her shoulders, as if ready to grab her again if needed. “Talk.”
Matching his caution, she turned, barely letting her feet leave the floor. His hands found her forearms and only a foot of air separated them. At this distance she saw the sweet guy who tipped big after dessert had changed into someone lethal and commanding.
“It’s in the hallway,” she said.
“What is?”
“My escape route.”
“Let’s see it.” He walked her back toward the bedroom. His gaze bounced from her face to the windows beyond.
Even if she wanted to bolt, and she sure thought about it, she couldn’t. The timing was wrong and the man was too big. He also seemed prepared for action and that gave her an odd sense of comfort in the surreal moment.
She pointed at the narrow closet. “There’s an opening behind the ironing board. Though to look at you, I have no idea how you’ll squeeze in there.”
“I’ve never had a problem getting in before, no matter how tight the fit.”
His sudden grin made her think they were talking about different things. “I bet.”
“Where does it come out?”
“About twenty feet away, behind the small shed before the tree line.”
“Open it.” He glanced over her head. “And fast. We only have minutes before the doors and windows come blowing in.”
She didn’t bother lecturing him on chivalry or issuing orders. She didn’t look behind her, either. A narrow green searchlight twice cut through the dark cabin while they stood there. She knew the men outside were getting close, had probably surrounded the house and cut off the obvious exits. Good thing she had a surprise one.
She threw open the door and with practiced efficiency removed the ironing board and fake panel behind it. The flashlight came next. She ripped it from the wall and tested it. “You ready?”
“I see you are.”
“Always.” She dropped to her knees and started crawling.
The dank air smacked her in the face as soon as she crossed the threshold. The heavy staleness stole her breath as fear raced through her mind. She couldn’t think about what lived in her makeshift safety route or what would happen if they were caught before they could get out.
Her first handler, Rod Lehman, had insisted on her having an emergency exit no matter where she lived. The workmen who thought they were laying reinforcement pipe for the sewer helped, but she did all the work in the final connection to the cabin. Building and reinforcing the tube in the dead silence of night had been quite an undertaking.
Once completed, she had set up an escape strategy and practiced shortening her time to the shed. One oversight was in conducting the drill in jeans. Now in her pajama shorts, the hard flooring hurt her knees and the coolness of the metal sent a chill through the rest of her.
And then there was the issue of creeping around with an unwanted partner. One who held her ankle and crowded against her the entire time.
“Could you move back and give me some room to move?” She shook her leg, trying to break his hold, but he didn’t let go.
“Keep moving.”
She did as he ordered. She sped up, trying to increase the space between their bodies and her chances of getting away. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because you don’t have a choice.”
Wrong. She’d let that be the excuse for the dead end her life had become. Well, no more.
She was done paying for her poor choices. Getting shipped from Chicago to Sweet Home, losing touch with everything and everyone she’d ever known, constituted a pretty big punishment in her mind. Her bad-boy, thrill-ride addiction was over. Likely so was her time in West Virginia.
She reached the end of the tube and grabbed for the handle of the door to pull her body up to a kneeling position. Spinning the dials, she put in the combinations and undid the series of locks. Silence filled the small area, but the tension pulsed hard enough to knock her over.
“Got it?” He reached around her and helped shove away the panel.
The tight space turned claustrophobic. His chest pressed against her back. His arms wrapped around her from each side, trapping her tight to his body. From his breath against her hair, to his knees wedging her feet against the outside walls of the space, she was surrounded. Imprisoned and unable to launch her desperate plan.
Fingers fumbling, she helped Adam unseal the last of the opening. The black night and cool reviving air greeted them. A ceiling of stars peeked through the thick walls of trees. She heard chirping and the rustle of branches in the wind.
“Looks clear.” The words were almost soundless by her ear. “Climb out nice and slow until we’re sure.”
Her brain started a countdown. It ended when Adam grabbed a fistful of her shirt and held her in place.
“Don’t even think about running.” He guided her out and jumped to his feet before she could gain her balance. “I’m your best shot at staying alive.”
If he was trying to make her feel better, he missed the mark by a good two miles. “They have the guns.”
“They’re not alone.” He slipped one hand under her elbow and kept the other on the weapon that appeared in his hand as if by some demented magic trick.
“I thought you were one of the good guys.”
“Why do you think I’m not?”
“The gun.”
“You want a rescuer with a weapon. Trust me.”
She didn’t want a rescuer at all. “I’d prefer to get out of here.”
“That’s next.” Adam pressed her back against the shed and slid his body against hers.
Pinned to a wall with his hard chest at her front, she couldn’t move. His stance wasn’t sexual or even over-bearing. It was more protective than anything.
For the first time since he walked into the diner, he struck her as a man accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. The type of guy who rushed in to help when others ran away to safety. The exact opposite of a shy computer nerd.
The gun passed in front of her face for a second then was gone. He had one of her hands in his and her other was trapped against his broad chest. He wasn’t looking at her, but she couldn’t help looking at him. She wondered how she’d ever viewed him as harmless. Seeing him in action now, gun up and attitude firmly in place, she could smell the power on him. It mixed with the cool mint scent of his breath.
She swallowed, trying to block out everything but the slamming of her heart and the plan forming in her head. “Well?”
He shook his head. “I don’t see them.”
“What does that mean?”
“They could have breached the inside.” He stepped back and brought her with him. They walked around the side of the shed until her cabin sat to their left and his stood at a fifty-yard dead run in front of them. “We’re not going to wait to find out. We have to circle around my cabin and get to my car.”
“Why not use mine?”
“They’d probably recognize it. Might have tampered with it.”
His