Though that’s how she felt. Broken. Dirty.
She was like the one-armed Barbie with nappy hair at the bottom of the toy box—the Barbie that always ended up in the trash by the banana peels and smelly diapers.
She looked around the van. Boxes filled with what looked like camping gear took up most of the van’s back interior, leaving only a few feet of space for Heather and Gabriel to sit restrained.
Both their wrists and ankles were bound again. Raven had overseen the knot-tying herself this time, so the ninja knots were extra tight and impossible.
Gabriel leaned against the back door of the van. He was still shirtless and the Bluestone cut that marred his chest was just as split open as it had been yesterday, but no longer bleeding.
His giant body took up most of the space they shared and, even though he tried to keep himself contained against the wall, the nonstop bumps in the road kept shifting him closer to her, so every once in a while, their legs would knock into each other.
They hit another bump and she winced as her bruised face throbbed with the jolt.
Concerned eyebrows lowered over the brown eyes beside her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, not wanting his pity.
She closed her eyes as they rode along, thinking about her odds of survival. Would Raven hand Heather over to Scarlet? Or would Raven get the map and then kill Heather? Or would Raven kill Scarlet? And Gabriel? And anyone else who showed up?
The dire reality of her situation sank in and Heather felt her lip tremble. She had told her parents she was staying with Scarlet for the week, so no one would come looking for her. Her escape attempt with Gabriel had failed and now they were being hauled off into God-knows where with a posse of Ashmen who were probably going to slaughter them. And Heather would never see anyone she loved again.
A hot tear fell down her cheek as she thought of her family; her happy parents and her annoying brothers and her sweet little sister. She hadn’t loved them enough. She hadn’t appreciated them enough. She thought of all the things she’d never get to do; all the places she’d never get to see.
Another tear fell and Heather gave into the gloom she’d been fighting for the last twenty-four hours.
“Hey,” Gabriel said softly. “Don’t cry. We’re going to be fine.”
Hearing the plea in his voice just made her cry harder. “No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and stared at Gabriel’s blurry face through her tears.
He smiled. “I’m Fierce Jaguar, remember? I’m not going to let anything happen to us.”
She huffed out a sad laugh. “I thought you didn’t have a code name.”
“Well after our kickass escape attempt, I figured a code name was in order.” He tilted his head, still smiling. “You were pretty amazing back there with your epic temper tantrum.”
“Yes, well.” She sniffed and the sharp smell of blood swirled inside her wrecked nose. “I have a little sister so I’ve seen my share of pouty throw downs.” The thought of Emily’s little face and blond curls brought tears back to Heather’s eyes.
Gabriel looked panicked. “And what about your badass scissor skills? You took out that Ashman without batting an eye. You were like Lara Croft.”
She sniffed again. “I would be a pretty awesome tomb raider.”
“No doubt.”
“But my boots would be pink.”
“Of course.” His crooked grin went sincere. “But seriously. You were pretty amazing today.”
Heather didn’t feel amazing at all. “Maybe next time we get kidnapped and try to escape, we should check for black vans first.”
He nodded. “Good call.”
Another bump in the road had her wincing again.
“Sorry I got you punched in the face today,” Gabriel said.
She shrugged. “It happens.”
He was still all guilty-looking, so Heather tried to lighten the mood. “How do I look with my bloody nose and swollen lip?” She tilted her face to one side, then the other, mock posing for his appraisal. “Sexy? Drop dead gorgeous?”
“You look…” he tilted his head, “brave.” He paused. “You are brave.” His features hardened and Heather realized he wasn’t joking.
Pride expanded in her chest.
She leaned against the van wall. “Well, hopefully my bravery can last through my new drug addiction and the consequential withdrawals I’m sure to be experiencing shortly.”
He nodded. “You can handle it, Tomb Raider.”
She shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I know.”
The van went over another bump and made a sharp turn, throwing Heather into Gabriel and causing them both to topple over. Heather landed on top of his bare chest.
His hot skin burned against her tear-stained cheeks and she immediately tried to wiggle her way off of him. Her bound wrists and ankles made it difficult for her to wiggle effectively, though, and the back of the van was too cramped for either of them to rollover completely.
Just when she’d scooted down to his stomach where there was more room to move, the van turned again, shoving her right back up his chest. Gabriel had his bound arms raised above her, hanging out in the air like he didn’t know where to put them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. With her hands pinned between them—and her arms accidentally brushing against several parts of his body—Heather started wiggling all over again.
“Heather?” Gabriel said, his arms still frozen in the air.
She wiggled down his chest until her face got to his stomach. Why were his abs so big? That couldn’t be normal. Or healthy.
“Heather,” he said again.
“What?” she started scooting again.
“Stop wiggling,” he said. “Please.”
She froze, tucking her lips in as she stared at the very large ab muscles right by her face.
“Okay,” Gabriel said calmly. “I’m going to hold you against me and sit us both up. So try to keep your face away from my body so I don’t hurt your nose, okay?”
Heather nodded at the ab muscle.
“And for the love of God,” he added, “don’t wiggle.”
“No wiggling. Right. Got it.”
Gabriel’s arms came down around her, his elbows bending so he could press her against him and he pulled her back up his body so she was now staring at his oversized pec muscles. Did he moonlight as a bodybuilder?
She shifted her nose away as instructed, turning her chin up so she was now staring at his face. At close proximity.
Very close proximity.
The van went over a few more bumps and their tangled bodies knocked together. Gabriel gritted his teeth and Heather bit back a smile.
She shifted her face again and her nose brushed against his skin.
“You smell good?” she accused. “How is that fair? You’ve been beaten and stabbed and kidnapped. You should at the very least smell like misery and hopelessness. Not,” she sniffed his chest again, “mountain rain or whatever the crap this is.”
His arms loosened around her. “Are you seriously smelling me right now?”
“Well maybe if you didn’t smell like a meadow—“
He sniffed her hair.
“Um, W-T-F, Gabriel?” She made a face at him.
“Why do you always smell like cupcakes? Hold still.” He took a deep breath and Heather’s body lifted as his chest filled with oxygen. She felt his body tense beneath her for a brief moment, and then he tucked her against him, twisted slightly to the side, and pulled them both up into a sitting position with his oversized abs of steel.
His arms were still around her body as they righted themselves and shifted into a haphazard sitting position. He slowly raised his arms back over her head, careful not to brush her nose as he did so until they were no longer tangled together.