By the time Donovan tugged her to a stop, she had entered a zone—moving without thinking, without feeling, without looking from side to side. Swaying on her feet, she blinked at him, barely able to focus on his deeply shadowed features. She concentrated on his eyes, which reflected the faint glow of the moon as he studied her intently.
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded odd—muffled, hollow, distant.
“I’m fine,” she answered automatically, her own voice sounding like a stranger’s.
“You have to rest. I think it’s safe to do so now.”
“I can keep going,” she insisted, exerting an effort to lift her chin.
“Then I need a rest.” Still holding her arm, he looked around for a moment, then nudged her toward a large tree. “We’ll sit here for a while.”
They settled carefully on the ground beneath the tree. The rock-, leaf-and twig-covered ground didn’t make a particularly comfortable seat, but it was such a relief to be off her feet that Chloe didn’t even think about complaining. She leaned back against the rough bark of the tree with a weary sigh.
The sigh changed almost immediately to a gasp of pain.
Donovan turned quickly toward her. “What’s wrong?”
“My feet,” she gasped. Spears of pain stabbed upward from the soles of her feet through her legs, up her back, all the way to the base of her neck. There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t hurt, but the pain was especially concentrated in her abused feet.
Donovan scooted around to take her right foot in his hands. He had no light to examine her closely, but he ran his fingertips lightly over the bottoms of her torn and filthy socks. As light
as his touch was, she winced when she brushed a deep cut. He set her right foot down very gently, then repeated the motions with her left.
“You’re bleeding from several cuts. They probably have dirt, maybe even tiny pieces of gravel embedded in them. You’ve also got some bad bruises and scrapes. It’s no wonder you’re hurting.”
“Aren’t you? You aren’t wearing shoes, either.”
“I have a few cuts, but not as many. The bottoms of my feet are more callused than yours.”
Of course they were. Her head back against the tree, Chloe closed her eyes and swallowed a moan. She hated looking so weak in front of this tough, strong and very self-sufficient male, but she had just about reached her limit.
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re tougher than you look?” Donovan asked as he set her feet carefully on the ground.
A single tear escaped from her right eye. “There’s no need to try to flatter me now.”
“I don’t flatter. I just state facts.” He scooted around until he was sitting beside her again and then he pulled her against his shoulder. “Get some rest,” he said gruffly. “We’re safe for now.”
Safe? They were sitting in an unknown forest in pitch darkness while three armed kidnappers searched for them. They had no lights, no food or water, no way to call for help—not even any shoes. They were hardly safe.
And yet she found herself relaxing against Donovan’s side, her breath escaping in a long, tired sigh. Allowing herself to float on waves of pain, she closed her eyes and tried to turn off her thoughts.
She would be strong again later. For now, she simply had to rest.
Chapter Six
Donovan didn’t know if Chloe was sleeping or just drifting. Her breathing was deep and even, her body warm and limp against his. Remembering the condition of her feet—at least from what he could tell in the dark—he wouldn’t blame her if she were whimpering at this point.
Definitely tougher than she looked.
Sitting very still so he wouldn’t disturb her, he took a quick assessment of his own physical condition. His face was a little sore from close contact with the other guy’s fist. The heavy, skin-chafing handcuff was still clasped around his right wrist, the closed left bracelet still dangling. He’d lost the hairpin back at the cabin, but the annoying weight around his wrist was the least of his problems at the moment.
Chloe sighed and shifted against him. Suspecting that her discomfort was keeping her from resting well, he wrapped his left arm around her and pulled her more snugly into his shoulder. She murmured something unintelligible and nestled into him, hiding her face in his throat as if to hide from everything that threatened them.
No one was getting to her without going through him first, he vowed. And then he loosened his hold on her a bit as he remembered that it was his job to protect her. For Bryan.
Not that he expected Bryan to appreciate his efforts so far. He’d antagonized Chloe’s sister, bored Chloe into closing herself in her room with a stack of paperwork, and then carelessly let them get taken captive. He hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t been vigilant enough—even though he’d sensed that something was wrong.
He should have listened to his instincts, kept his guard up. Instead, he’d let himself get distracted by…well, by things he’d had no business noticing.