“I don’t know!” Alex shouted, startling her. His genuine concern and worry was written all over his face. “You should be inside. You should let me take care of you.”
“And what am I going to do when you leave?” she asked quietly.
His mouth gaped. “You really think I was just going to walk away from you?”
“Why not?”
“And you could walk away from me.”
“Sure.”
He snorted. “So you’re telling me I’m nothing but a piece of meat to you? Seriously? You weren’t scared for my well-being at all when bullets were flying out there.”
She’d been terrified at the thought that he might get hit. “I’d be worried for any human.”
His eyes grew flinty. “You’re lying.”
She shivered. It was like a cold draft had brushed through the room. Though she was glad they were having the conversation, this wasn’t really the appropriate time. Nonetheless, she pushed out the vile words on her tongue. “I’m not quite sure why you’re not understanding this,” she said deliberately. “When we’re done here, when you go back to town—that’s it. To me, you’re no different from any other man who could have wound up here. I want to not be shot, maybe get some more fucking, and then I want you to leave as soon as you are physically able. Is that clear?”
His face had hardened during her words, but he flinched at the obscenity. His lips barely moved when he spoke. “Perfectly.”
Her stomach literally cramped, and she wanted to scrub her mouth with lye for demeaning what they had shared. “Good. We need some sort of plan.”
He wouldn’t look at her. “We’re stuck here until the phone comes back online. We can’t exactly jump on a horse and go galloping off into the open. We’ll be sitting ducks. In the meantime, I can keep watch.”
“We’ll take turns.”
“Fine.”
She leaned her head against the wall, staring out the window. “Fine.”
~* ~
“Did you hear something?”
“It was the wind.”
“Oh.” Genevieve turned back to the book in her hands. She’d curled up on the floor next to the chair, a big mistake since it reminded her of their tumultuous lovemaking, and tried to take her mind off their mutual problem.
She reread the page she was on, but gave up after the second sentence blurred. She set it facedown in her lap and did her best to pretend she wasn’t studying her protector.
Despite his coldness all day, that’s exactly what he’d set himself up to be. He sat propped up against the wall, the handgun clenched in his hand, peering out the window. Except for a quick trip to the bathroom, he hadn’t moved.
The tension of their careful politeness and distance added to the stress of the horrible situation they were in. Genevieve had an idea of what civilians in war-torn countries might feel like. Every so often, a volley of gunshots peppered the sturdy cabin from the front, bouncing off the logs. None had penetrated the two windows yet, but it was only a matter of time. They had taken to crawling along the floor if they needed to move, to avoid any stray bullets.
Alex had fired just a few times, when he thought he had a bead on the guy. Though he had curtly mentioned it sounded like there was only one shooter, as the shots were coming from one direction, he said the guy was too deep in the woods to see him. He didn’t want to waste their ammunition. Plus, he said the guy might get stupid if he thought they didn’t have much in the way of weapons.
It was a smart plan, though Genevieve’s first instinct was to go in with guns blazing. He was right though; the shooter had a number of places to hide while they had none.
They hadn’t spoken much, whatever conversation they had stilted and tense. Genevieve was aware he was mad. Meanwhile, she wanted to cut out her own tongue for what she’d said to him. Deep down, she knew she hadn’t just wounded his pride. The man was sweet and tender, and more than a little romantic. It seemed as though he’d really fallen for the person he thought she was. He had no idea though. It was best this way, best to make a clean break.
So why did she hurt so much too?
She licked her lips and ventured some conversation into the silence. “It’s been quiet. What do you think the guy’s plan is?”
He rested his head against the wall. “I don’t know. Can you check the phone?”
They’d been checking every hour, and though she was certain it wouldn’t do any good now, she checked again anyway. “Dead.” She walked hunched over to the fridge and removed her pitcher of iced tea. “Do you want something to drink?”
