“No, they were gone when I got here,” Thomas told her. “But there was blood on the trail. I think you hit one of them.”
What?
“Oh my God,” she said, aghast. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even aim.” She tried to remember that moment, as she was manhandling the rifle up and into place. “Oh my God,” she said again. “Did I...?” Kill one of them? She couldn’t form the words. And suddenly she needed space, so she reached up to hold onto her jacket as she pushed herself off of Thomas’s lap.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But... There were only two?”
Only...? “Yeah,” she said, “that I know of.”
“Then I’m pretty sure whoever you shot was only injured,” he told her. “His teammate helped him back to camp. If he’d already been dead, the other guy would’ve left the body, gone back to get help. There was no body, so...”
That was good.
Wasn’t it?
Or was it? Maybe she shouldn’t be feeling this much relief over the fact that she hadn’t killed one of the men who were trying to kill her and Thomas. As she drew in a shaky breath, she said, “But they’ll be back. They know where we are now.”
Thomas nodded, his face somber. “They do.”
“Should we leave, right now?” she asked. “Before they return?”
“No, we’re safer in here,” he said. “It’s too cold out there, and it’s getting colder.”
“But we’ll be trapped in here.”
She hadn’t even enunciated the P of trapped before the lock to the hatch started beeping.
Someone outside was inputting a code.
She scrambled to her feet, still clutching her jacket as Thomas grabbed for the rifle.
But the system made a noise she’d never heard before—the code was an incorrect guess and it had been rejected.
That was good.
But someone—most likely a lot of someones were outside. They’d found the keypad and were trying to get in.
That was definitely bad.
“Can you walk?” Thomas asked her.
“I can,” Tash said, grabbing her bloodstained shirt and heading for the stairs.
Thomas was right behind her, carrying the rifle as he followed her down and through the fortified door. He closed and locked it behind him with a very final-sounding thunk.
And there they were. Locked into the relative safety of the former bomb shelter, Thomas staring at Tasha as Tasha stared back.
The worst had happened. Not only were they in siege mode, but he’d just kissed her.
She was standing there, still holding her bloodied winter jacket up against her bare breasts. Her jeans were torn at the knees, and her injured arm was in need of some serious cleaning. Her hair was tangled around her face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth...
Thomas realized he was standing there, staring at that mouth that he’d just thoroughly kissed, and yeah, he was equally thoroughly screwed, because he wanted to kiss her again.
And no, he corrected himself, the worst hadn’t happened. He was alive and Tasha was, too. And even though their location had been discovered by the men who were hunting them, that still wasn’t even close to the worst that he would’ve been experiencing if he’d found Tasha dead or dying. It would be good to remember that.
As far as kissing her...? It had been awful. And wonderful. And terrifying. He felt, in its aftermath, as if he were wearing his entire cardiovascular system outside of his skin—totally raw and exposed.
And desperate for more. He wanted to just hit pause on the danger they were in, just set down the rifle, and...
“What do we do now?” she broke the silence to ask. “I mean, you kissing me again would be nice.”
He laughed at the fact that she’d dare to say that, and yet he wasn’t all that surprised. She was, after all, Tasha.
And of course, she wasn’t done, “But I suspect it’s not a priority.”
“Good guess.” Thomas nodded, spurred into action—first double-checking that the door absolutely was secure. If the hostiles breached the hatch—when they breached the hatch—they’d still have to get through this door.
It was as close to impenetrable as a door could be—designed to withstand a nuclear blast—but there were other ways to get inside of a locked bomb shelter.
Jesus, he had to get out of this raincoat. And he had to get Tash showered and her wounds bandaged—as quickly as possible, while they still had running water.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said as he peeled the raincoat off his arms. God, his sweat plus the debris from the ashes and charred wood was nasty.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, too,” she countered. “How are you covered with... Is that soot?”
“Long story,” he said.
“Please tell me it involves a secret portal to a magical dimension where you found gainful employment as a singing-and-dancing chimney sweep.”
He laughed again. “Sadly, no. Do you need help in the shower?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Do I?” She tried to look over her shoulder at the gash on her arm, but she still couldn’t see it. “Do I need stitches? Can I get this wet?”
She went into the bathroom to look in the mirror, and he followed to stand in the door.
“No stitches,” Thomas said. “It’s a gash. Think of it as a bad scrape. It’ll hurt under the water, and the soap will sting, but that’s the best way to do it. Make sure you wash your knees, too. And do an inventory, see if you’ve got any other injuries we missed.”
She winced as she looked down at her knees. “I think I might need help with that.” She realized what that sounded like and immediately backpedaled. “That wasn’t... I wasn’t trying to be like, Why, yes, I do need help in the shower, handsome pizza delivery man.” She shook her head. “No.”
He laughed. “Tash, we need to talk, but—” not right now. She didn’t let him finish.
“Please, please don’t say that kissing me was a mistake,” she said.
“I won’t,” he promised. “Because... it wasn’t. It was... scary, yeah, but...” He cleared his throat. “It was very intentional.”
Both hope and tears flared in her eyes, and the smile she gave him was tremulous. “Okay, so this is gonna sound contrived, but you really can’t say that to me and then not kiss me again.”
Thomas crossed toward her, and careful only to touch her on the chin to turn her face up to his, he kissed her.
She closed her eyes but she didn’t lean in. She didn’t drop her jacket. She didn’t move. She just brushed her soft lips against his.
And God, she was so sweet.
He made himself step back. “We’ve got things to do before we use the shower to do more than...” He cleared his throat. “Shower. But it’s not just that. It’s... me. Tash, I need time. I need to take this slowly. I hope that’s okay.”
She was holding onto her jacket with both arms as she nodded up at him. “God, yes,” she said. “It’s very okay. It’s absolutely okay. Take all the time you need.”