She blinked. It all came back in a three-second flash that sent her careening into hell again.
“Gonna throw up.” She lurched to side and just made it into the trash can Ford Cooper held up for her.
The memories hurt, scraped her insides and tightened her stomach, reminding her of how indelible those deaths were. Of how she’d done nothing to stop them.
Alex.Oh God. Poor Alex. And Jamie Cortez.
The tunnels.Even now, they were closing in, darkness crowding the edges of her vision. Those footsteps, slowly approaching.
“Angel.”
“I ran.” He bent close to hear her whisper. “They killed him and I just…ran.”
“Cortez?”
“Alex.” She blinked at him. “Cortez…” She couldn’t think of that bloody mess and the sweet, silly Jamie Cortez she’d known. Her body tried heaving again and she held it back, breathed through it until she could talk. “He was already in the tunnel when I got there.” Deep-frozen. Blood everywhere. She put a hand to her face. Her nose was swollen and hot where she’d hit it on the door.
Ford swiped something warm and wet over her mouth, her cheeks, then tightened his hold on her, pulled her into his body.
“You’re safe now. Safe.”
Slowly, she loosened a bit, let him take a little more weight.
At least Ford was alive. At least she wasn’t alone. Or frozen through, like Sampson had threatened.
“I’ve got you.”
Nodding seemed like a good idea, particularly since it rubbed her damp cheek—when did I cry?—against that wide, solid expanse.
“Where is everyone else? Did you find any more…” She wouldn’t saybodies. Just the idea that there could be more made her ache.
“No one else.” With something like relief, her gaze shifted to the five o’clock shadow over his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. With a curse, he tried again. “Gone.”
The shaking started again, although this time it wasn’t from hypothermia—it was an overdose of pure, raw emotion.
I know you’re around here somewhere, Angel, darlin’. Wanna know how?Her heart thumped in her chest, too fast, too heavy, and so loud he had to hear it. That trapped feeling rushed out of the recent past to smack her in the face. My God, that was just this morning.
“He planned this,” she finally said.
“Who?”
“Bradley Sampson was the leader, I think, though he mentioned higher-ups or the powers that be or something. Kept talking about some payload they were after.” And then, because she couldn’t be the only one to know this, she said, “I watched him shoot…”Air. Breathe.“Alex. In the head.”
Beneath her ear, Ford’s heartbeat picked up speed, but he didn’t respond.
And, honestly, what was there to say?
Her nose, pressed into him, couldn’t help but take him in. And it was good. Everything about him was more human than she’d have guessed from a man who’d seemed stone cold: the smell, the heat, the give of his flesh.
“Bastard didn’t get me.”
“Good,” he whispered, arms tightening, head low, voice terrible in its intensity. “Good.”
“Why do you keep hugging me?”
“It’s not a hug. I’m sharing body heat. To keep you warm.” His voice rumbled against her ear. She could feel it in her bones, as comforting as a purring cat.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
