He passed her the bandana and a small bar of soap, the kind furnished in an inexpensive hotel, no larger than a wafer and still wrapped in glossy white paper. He then handed her a bottle of water. “Be frugal with it.”
When she realized that he was suggesting she wash, the idea of it was so appealing, she wanted to weep with gratitude. On the other hand, the extended kindness made her wary, and her expression must have conveyed that.
He motioned behind him. “As long as you behave yourself, you can have that half of the building, and I promise to keep my distance and my back turned.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
She looked past him into the gathering gloom at the back of the building. Although the early dusk would partially conceal her, the deeply shadowed space wasn’t inviting. Being clean, however, was.
She stepped around him and walked into an area of the cavernous building where the darkness was deepest. At eye level on the rough wall, a two-by-four ran horizontally to form a narrow ledge. She unwrapped the soap bar and placed it there along with the bottle of water.
She glanced over her shoulder. Shaw was folding up the tarp, which she took as a good sign. He wouldn’t be doing that if he planned on needing it soon. Nor would he be enabling her to wash. In any case, he wasn’t looking her way.
Holding the corner of the bandana between her teeth, she pulled her top over her head, and, before she could talk herself out of it, peeled off her jeans. She had difficulty getting them past her sandals, but she wasn’t going to put her bare feet on the fl
oor if she could avoid it.
Really there was no difference between being in a bra and panties and wearing a bikini. But feeling exposed and vulnerable, she hastily poured a palmful of water and worked up a lather with the soap between her hands.
When she’d washed every place she could reach, she soaked the bandana and used it to wipe away the soap. With the last of the water she wet the cloth again, then went over herself a second time.
“Time’s up.”
She froze and gave him another glance. His back was to her. He was pulling on his shirt. She called to him that she was almost finished.
“I’m counting down from sixty,” he said.
“That’s not enough time for me to air-dry. The humidity—”
“Fifty-seven.”
She cursed under her breath and hurriedly pulled on her jeans. Her skin and underwear were damp. Even so, she felt considerably better. Trying not to dwell on the dried bloodstains on her top, she pulled it on and pushed her arms through the armholes. She scooped her hair from the neckline and gathered it into a ponytail, tying it with the wet bandana.
“Thirty-four.”
She reached for the bar of soap and, in her haste, dropped it to the floor. “Damn!”
“Twenty-two. Twenty-one.”
She crouched and groped along the floor looking for the soap.
But she discovered something else. Something completely unexpected.
Immediately, she recognized it for what it was, but if she hadn’t been this close to it, it would have gone unnoticed, because it was stuck between the bottom of one of the vertical slats and another two-by-four that ran along the floor like a baseboard.
She took hold, but it was tightly wedged in the crack between the two pieces of lumber, which, despite their age, were unforgiving. She applied herself to pulling it free, but if she managed to, where could she hide it until she had an opportunity to use it? The timing had to be perfect. She would have to be close to him, and lightning quick, because she wouldn’t get a second chance, so the jab would have to count and be—
“Ten, nine, eight.”
She gave one final tug.
“Seven. Six.”
“I’m coming.” She used her last five seconds to calm her breathing, then stood up and started toward him. “I feel much better, thank you. It was wonderful, truly. Who knew that a sponge bath could be—”
“What have you got behind your back?”