Hard to Fight

“How long have you been in here?”

“Few days.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He takes my chin and forces me to look at him. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. You didn’t put me in here.”

“If we get out, what are we going to do with Dean?”

“I’ll deal with Dean.”

My heart tightens. “Raide, you’ll go to prison.”

“Just trust me, yeah?”

My hope dies a little. He’s giving himself to me, yet at the same time he’s not. Raide wants revenge and he’ll do whatever he can to get it, no matter the cost. That hurts, because I thought I’d be enough to change his mind, but the truth of the matter is he’s not going to change his mind. He wants his revenge and no matter what, he’s going to get it.

I shift off his lap, block my tears, and say in a monotone voice. “What’s our plan?”

“Grace—”

I shoot him a look. “Just tell me how we’re going to get out of here.”

He studies me, then sighs. “They rotate, and from what I’ve heard, when they swap shifts, the other crew leaves. I hear the cars come and go. So we can assume we’ll have to take three down.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“It’ll have to be a surprise attack. When they come in, we need to take our chance. You’re tough, you can take a fully grown man down.”

“Not if he has a gun.”

“You can, look around you, Grace.”

I look around at the simple room. “And?”

“See that bookshelf?”

I look to the corner and see an old bookshelf, filled with books. Aside from a rickety, rusted bedframe that has no mattress, it’s the only thing in the room.

“And?”

“We line it up, when they step in, you push it down over them. It’ll give us a good chance to fight. If you can get hold of a gun, you do it. It’s our best chance.”

It’s not a bad idea.

“What if there’s more than three of them?”

He shrugs. “We’re going to die tomorrow, anyway. Don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”

I nod.

“Then tomorrow morning, we’ll do it.”

I nod again.

I shuffle into my corner and I can feel Raide’s eyes burning into me. I lie down, using my arm as a pillow. I close my eyes and fight down all my emotion. I have to focus. I have to get us out of here. If I don’t, I’m going to lose my fight.

And I can’t afford to lose that, too.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Groaning shifts me from my sleep and it takes me a few moments to come to. The floor is hard beneath me, and my ribs ache as I slowly use my hands to push myself up into a sitting position. The groaning gets louder and I realize it’s Raide. He sounds like he’s in pain. I reach up and rub my eyes, then I shake my arm to try to get some feeling back into it.

Raide makes a strangled sound and I push up to my hands and knees and crawl toward him. “Hey,” I say softly. “You okay?” I’m not sure if he’s asleep or awake, it’s pitch black in here.

“Nah,” he grunts.

“Your arm?”

“Yeah.”

Shit. How am I supposed to ease his pain? Maybe there’s too much pressure on the wound. I can’t see, how am I supposed to check that?

“Do you want me to loosen the bandage?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Please.”

I reach down gently, running my hands over him until I find his arms. I find the knot I tied and undo it just as gently. He almost cries out with relief as I undo the makeshift bandage. I wish I could see it. Maybe I can beg for painkillers?

“You need painkillers.”

“Got some.”

“Why haven’t you taken them?”

He says nothing.

“God, Raide, are you always so proud?”

He chuckles but it’s full of pain. “Mostly.”

“Where are they?”

“Pocket.”

“Is there a light in here?”

“Only a shitty lamp beside the bedframe.”

I must have missed that.

“Hang on.”

I crawl slowly over to the bed and feel my way about. It takes me a few minutes but I finally feel a lamp beneath my fingers. I fiddle and it comes on. The light flickers a few times but finally stays on. I crawl back to Raide and stare down at his arm. He’s on his back, with it by his side. I glance at him and he’s staring up at me with a beautiful, gentle look on his face. I look away quickly and focus on his arm.

When I unwrap it, it’s red and swollen. God, it looks sore. I stare around, and notice a bottle of water in the corner, it’s about three-quarters full. They must have brought him water at some point. I nod to it. “Can I use that?”

Raide turns and stares at it. “You drink some first.”

My heart swells but I don’t let it get ahead of me. He’s just being nice. Making sure I’m strong. I retrieve the bottle and open it, taking a long drink. I offer some to Raide and he takes some, too. Then I find the cleanest piece of his remaining shirt and pour some water on it. I dab around his gunshot wound, trying not to react to his hissing as I clean it up as best I can. When I’m done, I get a new ball of material and place it over. This time I tie it loosely.

Then, as if it knows I’m done, the lamp flickers off. Great. No more light.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “Piece of shit.”

Raide grunts. “Did you expect it to be anything but?”

“Ha-ha,” I mumble. “Which pocket are the painkillers in?”

“Left, back.”

“You going to roll over and make this easy for me?”

“Nope.”

Jerk.

I reach out to his chest. I suck in a quiet breath. I love touching him. I purposely run my fingers slowly down his stomach. When I reach his jeans, I slide my fingers around gently, dipping them into the first pocket even though I know the pills aren’t there. I graze his cock and it’s hard beneath my touch. I bite my bottom lip and I can hear his breathing become more frantic as I move my hand out and dip it into the other pocket.

I graze his cock again, then I remove my hand and glide it over his hip and around to his ass. He lifts slightly and I reach in, finding a packet in his back pocket. I pull it out, and he lowers himself back down. I want him. It’s wrong, and I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I want him. I want to reach down and release him. I want to feel him inside me. I want to kiss him. I want to taste him.

I pop two pills out and reach up, using my fingers to find his lips. He parts them and I slip the pills onto his tongue. Before I can remove my fingers, he closes his lips around them and sucks. I whimper and shift. Heat pools between my legs and I figure what the heck? We might not get out of here, I’m not going to waste my last minutes resisting the man who has captivated me so thoroughly.

“How much pain are you in?” I whisper.

“Feelin’ much better,” he says, his voice thick.

He’s lying, but he’s doing it because he knows what I want. He wants it, too. I’m not about to deny him, not now.

“Don’t move.” I run my finger down his chest and over his abs. I stop at the top of his jeans and I slide my hand over the top of them, feeling him swollen and thick beneath them. I give him a squeeze and he hisses. I smile in the darkness. I taunt him by using my palm to rub him through his jeans, he jerks and thrusts his hips up, silently pleading for more, but I just keep rubbing him slowly.