“No offense, but I don’t know you, and I don’t trust easily. I’d rather walk ten miles along the side of the road than ever let anyone help me out again.”
I’m not restraining her, but it’s not hard to keep her on my lap. She doesn’t have the energy to stand. If she stepped outside the SUV, her knees would give out, and she would likely fall on her face.
An idea comes to mind. I lean to one side so I can pull my wallet out of my back pocket. She watches as I remove my ID and hand it to her. “Memorize as many details as you want. In fact, why don’t you keep this? Put it in your own pocket. Collateral.”
Something is terribly off with this woman. She’s scared out of her mind, and it goes back further than today. Maybe if she has something of mine, it will ease her mind.
She glances at the ID and back at me. “You said your name is Cannon. That says Briton Reiner.”
I chuckle. “Good point. Cannon’s a nickname. I was in the Army. Everybody gets a nickname in the military. It often sticks for life. No one calls me Briton, but I’ll make an exception if you’d prefer to use my real name.” I wince.
She almost smiles. “You don’t like your name?”
We’re getting somewhere. I shrug. “It’s kind of pretentious in my opinion. Until I got that nickname, my teammates made fun of me. They called me Silver Spoon. Didn’t matter that it wasn’t true. I wasn’t born rich or anything. I was relieved when they switched to calling me Cannon.”
She stares at me. Assessing me. Probably trying to decide if I’m lying. “Why do they call you Cannon?”
I groan. “Oh goodness. That’s an embarrassing story.”
She doesn’t look away or say a word.
I need her to trust me. She needs to be able to trust me. So, I tell her, “I got too close to a cannon in a combat situation. Error on my part. When it went off, I got thrown several yards.”
Her eyes widen, and her gaze lowers to my neck. “Is that when you got that scar on your neck?”
Wow. Nothing gets by this woman. I’m impressed. “Yes. I wasn’t breathing. They had to do a tracheotomy in the field.”
She gasps as if it really matters to her that I was in danger. It’s endearing considering what she’s been through today.
I hold the ID out to her.
When she shakes her head, I put it back in my wallet and in my pocket.
Now that I’m holding her gaze, I realize she’s stunning. Her eyes are an amazing light shade of brown that could swallow a man whole. Her hair is a mess from being held hostage all morning. But the brown that nearly matches her eyes is lovely, and I bet the curls are fucking sexy normally.
I can’t take my eyes off her face, though. Her features… Fuck, she’s pretty. Perfect round nose, full pink lips, thick eyelashes. She’s not tall and lanky like a runway model, but if she were five-ten she’d be on the cover of magazines for sure.
She narrows her gaze at me. “Don’t.”
I realize she’s caught me staring. I suspect everyone she’s ever met has stared at her, so I don’t try to lie. Instead, I stroke her arm. “Sorry.”
She shoves at me and scrambles off my lap, aiming for the bench next to me. At least she isn’t yanking on the door handle. Suddenly, she shows me another side of her. She pulls her knees up to her chin, sets her heels on the seat, and hugs her shins.
I reach across her to grab my backpack and haul it to my lap. After rummaging inside, I hold out a protein bar, an apple, and another bottle of water. “I don’t have much to eat in the car, but if you’re hungry...”
She glances at me, and I get the feeling no one has ever offered this woman a kindness. She looks suspicious, as if perhaps I want to trade these small items for something.
I drop the backpack on the floor and place all three items on the other side of her. “If you change your mind.”
She turns her head to stare at the meager offering.
“When did you last eat, angel?”
“I’m not an angel by any stretch of the imagination,” she mutters.
I shrug. “You seem pretty angelic to me.”
She shoots me a glare. “You don’t know anything about me.”
