Brynn Kelly - Edge Of Truth

Stop it.

He swore, his fingers clamped around the mouse’s tail as it clawed air and gyrated. “Then you’ll have to hold her while I move them.”

She widened her eyes. “Hey, I’m tolerating them—just—but I don’t want cuddles.”

“If I release her first, she’ll come back down to the nest.” He met her gaze. “I didn’t take you for a wimp.”

Damn, exactly the kind of crap her brothers dished up. “Hand her over.” Oh man, really?

He edged behind Tess, his breath teasing the top of her hair as he encircled her with his arms. “Her instincts are going mental, so you’ll have to hold tight. Clamp down on the tail, either side of my fingers.”

Yuck, yuck, yuck. But she followed his instructions. He hovered a palm underneath their hands as he let go. “Got her?”

“Got her.”

“Spin her gently so she can’t arch back and bite you.” He backed away. “Can’t believe I’m busting my arse to liberate mice.”

“Think of it as earning karma. But hurry up.”

He knelt by the nest. “It’s okay,” he crooned in a falsetto, “you dirty little fuckers. Just call me Uncle Scroo—”

He froze and plucked something from the nest. Not a mouse. String? He passed it under a shaft of gray light, and it glinted.

“What is it?”

“A wire. You said there was no electricity in this building.”

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“Seen any electrical cords? Wiring?”

“Nothing.”

He scraped at the dirt where the stone wall met the floor, just shy of the nest.

“What are you looking for?”

“Tell you when I find it.”

Minnie pawed the air like she was on a mouse wheel. “Ah, could you look quickly? She’s about to turn herself inside out.”

He crawled along one wall, digging into the dirt at its foot, then shoved aside the mattress and crept along the next wall, doing the same. Halfway along he stopped and dug faster, like a dog after a bone. Maybe that head injury was affecting his brain.

“You beauty,” he muttered.

“A secret tunnel?”

“Not quite, but looks like that karma might have come round pretty quick.”

He tugged something. She jumped as a long shape scooted along the floor. More mice? Crap—a snake? Minnie’s claws scraped her wrist. “Yeouch.” She arched her hand.

Flynn was holding something—the end of a piece of rope, embedded in the dirt. She squinted. Not rope—an electrical cord, tapering off to a frayed end. He gazed up at the ceiling, frowning.

“Excellent,” Tess said. “Now we can fire up my hair straightener and singe our way out of here.”

“You have a hair straightener?”

“Does it look like I have a hair straightener?”

He shrugged. “Pity. Could be a useful weapon.”

“Would you mind hurrying things up with those mice?”

“Just a sec.” He clawed at the dirt farther along and ripped up another cord.

“Do you think it’s live?”

“I doubt it—the mouse managed to chew right through without getting electrocuted.” Holding each cord by its white cover, he touched the frayed ends together. “Yep, dead.”

“Flynn...? This mouse is about to explode.”

He stood and ran his hand over a floorboard, biting the inside of one cheek.

“Flynn!”

“Yeah, yeah. On it.”

He sauntered to the nest, evidently distracted by mysterious calculations running through his brain. Kneeling, he shoveled half a dozen balls of gray onto one palm and enclosed them with the other. He stood and eased the creatures through a crack one by one, eyes crinkled in concentration. Oh boy, a tough guy being gentle—it got her right there. And that was her problem. No more tough guys, you hear? Dependable, loyal accountants.

“Now for Minnie.” He came up so close beside Tess the warmth of his body reached out and caressed her. She stood straighter. This was not supposed to be an intimate experience. He maneuvered his hands around hers. “Separate your fingers a little. Got her. Let go.”

“Gladly.”

He gripped the mouse’s body and lifted it to the gap. It sniffed, found purchase with its scrabbling claws and blessedly disappeared. Tess shook her wrist.

Flynn looked at his palms, grimacing. “Got any more wipes?” Suddenly he shut his eyes tight, like someone had stabbed his voodoo doll.

“Flynn?”

“Too much...action for this soldier.” When he opened his eyes they looked like they were retreating into his skull. Nothing fake about his head injury. A fraction more force and the wound could have been fatal.

She kicked the mattress flat, caught his arm and guided him down. “More painkillers?”

“I’ll hold out... Need to keep sharp.” He sounded anything but. God, what if his wound did prove lethal? He could have internal bleeding, swelling...

She grabbed the wipes. “Give me your hands,” she said, kneeling in front of him. She scrubbed at one, then the other—muscular, tanned, callused hands that flinched at her strokes. She fought the temptation to bring one up to her face, to feel the roughness against her cheek. Yep, desperate and pathetic. And eager for him not to die, whoever he was.

He yawned. She echoed, her eyelids feeling as heavy as his looked.

“We should...sleep,” he said. “Store our energy. Must have been well after midnight when I... I’ll take the floor.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re adults. We can share. You don’t want to pick up an infection, and this place is far from sterile.”

His lidded gaze ran the length of her body, her skin goose-pimpling in its wake. Earth to Tess. He was probably just figuring out how they’d both fit on the mattress. Did he remember anything of the previous night? Her face warmed.

“I...need to use the facilities.” He jerked his head toward the bucket.

“Sure,” she said. She swiveled away and concentrated on popping a couple of painkillers. Trying to ignore the noises from the other half of the room, she brushed dirt and stones off the mattress, lay straight and rigid on one side of it and closed her eyes. Her muscles pulsed as they eased up. The toe Hamid had stomped on throbbed double time, at least eclipsing the pain from the other.

Sometime last night she’d awoken on her back, Flynn’s forearm heavy on her belly, his hand curled around the side of her waist, his stubbly cheek against her shoulder. It would have been so easy to turn into him so their bodies were flush together and hunker down into a place of refuge. When she was single, that was what she missed most—the physical contact. Yes, she missed sex, but it was plain old touch she ached for—a strong, rough man’s body cocooning hers. That was when she felt safest, when she felt loved, when it felt like nothing could sneak in to destroy her happiness. It wasn’t even necessarily about being in love. Had she ever been in love with Kurt? Or just in love with the idea of him, the fantasy that it might actually work out, despite her misgivings?

Behind her, the mattress shifted as Flynn lowered onto it. His body grazed her spine, then settled, his warmth radiating into her. He had to be half an inch away, at most. She risked a peek. His body mirrored hers, facing the opposite wall, spooning air. She nestled down and ordered her eyes to close. She could still steal comfort from the pinpricks of electricity heating her back. It seemed impossible that a body so warm, so alive could be so...not, in a matter of days. Hours, perhaps. Hamid said she’d kidnapped him to be a double act with Tess. Another life on her conscience.

Even with him there, sleep didn’t come. Ten, twenty minutes later she remained rigidly awake, her thoughts pushing into ever darker places. She sighed.

“This is stupid,” he said huskily. She sensed him rolling over. He propped himself up on an elbow. “We’re lying here like corpses.”