Hunter stood, took her bag from her hands and dropped it on the bed, then turned her face up to his. “We’ll be together.”
“You think so, do you?”
“Yes.” Tonight, he’d prove it to her. Testing her just a bit, he said roughly, “I’m going to love loving you.”
Her eyes flared, then stayed that way, like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. He saw the fight-or-flight response in those wide eyes, and knew she had no idea how to deal with him. A plus for him, since he rarely knew how to deal with her.
Hunter waited, her golden gaze searching as she appeared to go through several calculations before managing a slight nod and a tentative smile. Stepping around him, she went first to the side of the mattress where she withdrew a key from a hidden seam, then to her secured closet. “Let me grab a few more things, and we can be on our way.”
His entire body—blood, pulse, breath—all stilled as he watched her deftly open the lock, not with just the key, and not with just one fingerprint. He didn’t know a device like that existed, but after turning the key, she placed first her forefinger, then her thumb in different locations of the lock, and finally her pinkie...and he heard it click open.
Fascinated, he drew closer. She’d done it quickly, likely with lots of practice, and he wasn’t sure most would even notice the complicated placement of her fingerprints. Little got by him, though, especially when it came to Jodi. He couldn’t wait to see what warranted so much caution.
Standing right behind her, Hunter watched as she opened the sturdy wooden door...to a fucking arsenal.
Various rifles had been meticulously arranged along the walls of the closet, held in secure racks. An AR15, which would be good for her, given her slight size, was front and center. He grudgingly approved. To the left of it was a Mossberg pump shotgun. Seeing it as a great deterrent, Hunter smiled. Everyone recognized the sound of a shell being chambered, and once they did, they knew it wasn’t going to end well for them if they proceeded.
Jodi reached inside and withdrew a Walther PPS M2 9 mm. “I like my Glock 45 since I’ve practiced with it more, but this one has a nice grip, it’s lightweight and I prefer it when I’m working.”
The gun wasn’t much more than an inch thick, so easier to conceal. “You carry that when you’re mowing?”
“Yup.” She stroked it before putting it on the dresser. “The trigger is like butter.” She glanced at him. “You have night-vision binocs?”
“I have sights on my weapons to see at night.”
“Sweet.” She grabbed the binoculars and added them, along with boxes of ammo, to her stack. “I should get those, too.”
“Jodi, you won’t need all that.”
Her look now was full of humor. “Like the missing condom, I’d rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them.” Using a multipocketed tactical bag the size of an overnight bag, she stored everything and added it to the pile on the bed.
It struck Hunter that Jodi didn’t want to pack a lot of clothes, but she had no issue with taking an array of weapons. Embracing her quirks would be easier than fighting them, so he calmly asked, “All done?”
“Sure.”
As she zipped up the bags, he turned back to the closet, noting the rest of the weapons—like batons, a stun gun and a Taser—and, there on the floor, propped in the corner, an oddly placed piece of broken wood, like a slat of some sort with jagged edges. “What’s this?”
She glanced over her shoulder, then slowly straightened, color staining her cheeks and throat. Trying to sound dismissive, she said, “That’s more a keepsake than anything else.”
Sensing it had stark meaning for her, Hunter asked, “Will you tell me about it?”
“I guess I should.” With a touch of antagonism, she met his gaze. “You might change your mind about wanting me.”
“No,” he assured her. At this point, there was no turning back for him. More softly, he insisted, “Trust me.”
She firmed her lips, her brows drawing together. “Sometimes, when I try to talk about it, I...freak out.”
He remembered how she’d lost control when telling him about the bastard who’d imprisoned her. So the wood had something to do with that?
Yes, he wanted to know it all, but more than that, he sensed Jodi needed to share it. Why else would she have let him see the contents of the closet? “Let’s try this,” he said, reaching out for her and drawing her against his body until they touched from knees up, thighs pressing, her breasts to his lower chest, and his arms around her protectively, her face nestled against his throat. “Take as much time as you need, okay?” To make certain she understood, he whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Releasing a strained sigh, Jodi relaxed, her hands settling on his lower back, her fingers tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
She seemed to have no idea how that not-so-innocent touch affected him.
Time ticked by, and Hunter knew she was gearing up, bracing herself for the awful memories. He hugged her more firmly, until he could feel the steady beating of her heart.
In a mere whisper, she said, “I knew if I didn’t get out, he’d eventually let me die. There were times I was so hungry, and so cold. Always so damned cold.” She shivered with the memory. “As miserable as it was...I wanted to live.”
Thank God.
“I didn’t have any weapons. There was nothing in the room with me except an old pallet, like the type used to stack feed to keep it off the ground.”
“I’m familiar,” Hunter murmured, picturing the pallet, or skid, a simple frame of wood with open sides for easy forklift access.
Jodi slipped into another silence that lasted half a minute. “The pallet was rough, and if I moved much, I’d get a splinter. Some of the nails were popping out at the corners. One slat of wood had started to curl from being in the damp basement. I realized how flimsy it was—and then I realized I might have a weapon after all.”
It wasn’t intentional, but his gaze returned to that jagged piece of wood. Her ingenuity impressed him, especially under such awful conditions. He turned away from the closet and pressed his mouth to her temple.
“It was easy to break up the pallet. I just bashed it against the floor. Every time I swung it, I thought he’d come stomping down the squeaky steps, but he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t home, or maybe he was drunk. I don’t know. I broke it up into several pieces, and sharpened the ends by scraping them on the concrete walls...and then I waited.” Her voice broke on the last word.
Gathering her up into his arms, Hunter sat on the edge of the bed and held her. Turbo stirred, coming down to snuffle against them.