"What makes you say that?"
"If they were gonna kill us, they wouldn’t feed us this well." She explains as she pops a piece of bacon in her mouth.
I look at the tempting bacon, eggs and biscuits. Apparently, diets and cholesterol counts mean nothing to these people. "Maybe the food is poisoned."
She manages to swallow before giving me a dirty look. "That was cruel."
"Sorry." I shrug a bit then decide to go ahead and eat anyhow. Hell, if they’re going to kill us I may as well choose which way I want to go. And on a full stomach sounds best right now. This is as opposed to riddled with bullets. I break off another piece of bacon and offer it to her. She leans forward and takes it from my fingers with her mouth. Oh God. I’m about to die and I am incredibly turned on. Not fair. So not fair. "Wonder what’s going on outside?" I think I manage to sound almost nonchalant.
Harper chuckles, enjoying my discomfort. "Well, after breakfast," she reaches for a carton of milk and sips, "we’ll try to wrangle a trip to the little hostage’s room and see what we can find out."
"Good plan. I’m going to need that anyhow."
"Me too," she admits with a little laugh.
"Ah … so Harper Kingsley does function like a normal human."
"Oh yeah. I even put my pants on one leg at a time."
I can’t resist playing a little. "So, how do you get out of them?"
"As quickly as possible." She grins at me.
Oh, she is good. As I look at her now, I’m betting very good. Oh hell, I guessed that from the moment I saw her on the motorcycle. Some part of me is sorry that I’ll never find out. Did I just think that? Christ, Kels get a fucking grip. She is not even your type.
Beth.
Beth is your type. And you spent most of the last weekend with her taking you to places you hadn’t been in a long time. Now slam the damn cage door shut ‘til she comes back into town. In another six months or so. Oh God.
She offers me the milk and I take a drink. "Thanks. You like apple?" I ask as I pick up a slice from the tray.
"Will you feed it to me?"
"Ah, no." I hold it out to her. "You’re a big girl now. You know how to feed yourself. I’ve seen you do it."
She takes the apple, then pushes off the wall to stand up. She stretches, reaching high above her head and twisting at the waist a little.
"Sore?"
"Yeah, I’ve got to admit, I’m not accustomed to sleeping on a hard floor. Besides, lugging the gear around has taken its toll on my back. I get an adjustment once a week, but I had to miss it to come here."
"Lay down."
She turns to me. "What?"
"Lay down. On your stomach," I add. Just so she’s clear on my intentions. Actually, that doesn’t really make any difference, but … Jesus, Kelsey, get a grip on your hormones.
She shakes her head a bit, as if able to read my thoughts, but does as I tell her.
I move over her and straddle her lower back. I try not to concentrate on where our bodies are touching. Rubbing my hands together to warm them, I lean down to speak into her left ear. "Do you trust me?"
"Un-huh."
"Okay, good. Lay your arms at your side, take a deep breath, and hold it."
Again, she does as I ask. I position my hands alongside her spine. "Now, exhale." She does. I apply a slight pressure with an upward movement, and I hear and feel everything move back into place.
"Ohhhh God, that felt good," she groans. She lifts her head and turns to look at me, her eyes conveying ultimate pleasure.
God, she has bedroom eyes.
"Where in the hell did you learn to do that?"
"My grandfather had a bad back. He taught me." I get up and move back to the breakfast tray before I do anything I might regret.
She rolls over onto her side, and props her head up in the palm of her hand. "Your grandfather?"
"I spent a lot of time with my grandparents as a child. My folks were never really meant to be parents."
"You’re an only child then?"
"Yes, thank God. I’m glad they did that right."
"Huh?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. Never mind."
"’Kay." She stands up and moves to the door, listening first, then she raps on it with her knuckles. "Hey!"
I’m a bit surprised when she gets an answer. "Whaddya want?"
"The lady needs use of the facilities and I wouldn’t mind the chance either." She looks over and gives me a little wink. I can’t help but smile.
She steps back when the lock turns, followed by the knob. I get to my feet dusting my hands off as the door opens. Another gun wielding man looks in at us then waves the barrel of the gun at me. "You first."
"No."
That was an honest to God growl I just heard from Harper.
"We go together. You’re not separating us."
"Lady, I got the fucking gun." He explains this slowly, as if she might be mentally impaired.
"Only because I choose to let you keep it," she replies with the same tone. "You’re not separating us. We came in here together, we stay that way."
I watch as he tightens the grip on his gun as he considers this turn of events. It’s clear he believes hostages are supposed to be easy to intimidate. Harper isn’t. I wonder if she’s serious about him only having the gun because she lets him keep it. For some reason I am inclined to believe her. She turns and offers me her hand, which I am more than willing to take.
As my hand slides into hers, she gives it a little squeeze. "Come on, Little Roo."
As we walk past him, Harper moves me in front of her and keeps her hands on my shoulders. She glances around, checking for her gear, I’m sure. I look over and am relieved that it’s still there.
"Bathroom is right there." Our guard points to a door at our left.
Harper opens the door and looks in. "Well, at least it’s indoors," she mumbles as she opens the door further. "You guys never heard that little saying about cleanliness and godliness?" She directs this comment to our captor, who scowls at her, but doesn’t reply. "You go first." She gives me a wink as she allows me to go in. I leave the door ajar just a little and I see her place her body right in front of it. From my vantage point I can see her standing there with her legs slightly apart and her arms crossed.
"You stay right there, butch," she warns as she holds up a hand in challenge to our guard. "Let the lady have some privacy." She reaches back and pulls the door a little tighter, but still leaves it open just a bit.
Now it’s Harper’s turn. Somehow I don’t think I’m going to be the imposing door sentry she was. Though I quickly realize I won’t have to worry about it; she refuses to close the door. She motions for me to turn around, which I am more than happy to do, more for my own peace of mind than to offer my partner privacy. Our guard stares, however.
"She got something you never seen before?" I ask as I cross my arms. He blushes and turns away, finding the wall more interesting.
Very soon I hear the toilet flush and her zipping her jeans. She washes her hands in the grimy sink. Her mother taught her manners. I’m impressed. Our guard motions us back toward the room.
Harper pauses as she points to a pile of blankets on a shelf. "I want a few of those." He acquiesces and she retrieves a couple.
As he opens the door, I hesitate as my brain takes in the small room. Oh God!
I feel a sweaty hand on my arm and I hear that growl again.
"Get your fucking hand off her!"
Before I’m sure what’s happening she has his wrist in her hand and is prying it away from my arm.
I turn to see him stick the gun in her ribs. He says angrily, "Let go of me and get inside or I’ll pop you right now."
"Touch her again and I’ll break your worthless neck," she hisses as she pushes his hand away. She makes a show of wiping her hand on her jeans.
I take a deep breath and step back into our cell. Harper follows, but only after her stare down is ended by a poke in the ribs from the barrel of the gun. She moves inside but blocks the door with her body. "Tell your boss I want to see him too." After her last demand, she steps back and he closes the door.