Harper Allen - The Bride And The Mercenary

“This goes right up to the roof.” As she gratefully stripped the rubber-and-metal mask from her face he leaned close, his mouth only inches from her ear. Despite his appearance, she realized disconcertedly, she could discern the clean scent of soap on his skin. “I’ve got a cable running over to the next building’s fire escape. All we have to do is slide down it and we’re home free.”

They were going to jump off the roof. She flinched as the sound of a muffled explosion boomed hollowly up the shaft from below. Under the tangle of hair that obscured his brow she saw him frown.

“They just blew the door open. Any second now they’ll find the generator and turn it off, but they’ve left it too late.” He shrugged, and leaned back against the wall. “They’ll get me one of these days, I guess. But today I survived.”

With the heavy growth of beard it was hard to tell his expression, but as he closed his eyes Ainslie thought she saw a corner of his mouth lift briefly. As the echo of the explosion faded, another less ominous sound filled the small elevator. For a minute she didn’t know what it was.

Then she realized what she was hearing. Oblivious to the mayhem, the man beside her was whistling, so quietly that at first it was hard to make out the tune. He couldn’t be comfortable in such a small space, she thought. His knees were drawn up awkwardly in front of him, his battered work boots braced against the opposite wall. But for the first time since she’d first laid eyes on him, some of his tenseness had dissipated. Without the woolen coat, the heavily defined sheath of muscle on his arms was apparent. His wrists, large-boned and tanned, rested easily on his propped-up knees, and he seemed, for the moment at least, to be at peace.

His eyes still closed, he continued whistling softly between his teeth, and now she recognized the song.

The tune was “Danny Boy.” And the elevator was filled with the scent of red roses.

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