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“Smart girl. Now walk.”
She walked.
One cautious, slow step at a time, heart racing, frenziedly trying to think of a way to warn Tanner of what was happening, of what was going to happen to him.
She paused just before the clearing. Stubby slid the tip of the knife under her T-shirt. The fabric parted; the knife was at her breast. She felt the coldness of the blade, then a faint trickle of something warm.
“Jus’ a little cut, puta. But I can do more. Remember that. Now move!”
She could see Tanner standing in the center of the little clearing, his pack over one shoulder, his rifle about to be slung over the other shoulder…
Alessandra slammed her elbow into Stubby’s belly with as much force as she could. He grunted; the air rushed from his lungs and his hold on her lessened just enough to let her dodge to the right.
“Tanner,” she screamed, “behind you!”
The world exploded.
When it was over, both her kidnappers lay motionless in spreading pools of blood.
Her knees buckled, but before she could do down, Tanner had her in his arms
CHAPTER EIGHT
She was hurt.
Bleeding.
There was a cut in her shirt had been slashed open. He could see a trail of blood on her skin.
Tanner sat her on the ground, her back against a tree, and knelt before her.
“Alessandra,” he whispered.
His hands shook as he parted the slit in the cotton shirt.
His belly knotted.
She’d been cut. Not cut, not really. The fat pig had pricked her with his knife, not enough to do damage, just enough to draw blood.
Tanner dumped his backpack, opened it, fished inside it and, yes, there were still little packs of wipes left. He opened one with his teeth.
“Honey? Can you hear me? This is gonna sting.”
Alessandra’s eyes met his as he cleaned the tiny wound. She wanted to tell him she was okay, that the only thing that mattered was that he was still alive, but all she could manage was to raise her hand and press it to his jaw.
He cursed softly, turned his face into her palm and kissed it. Then he tossed aside the wipe, reached for a packet of ointment, opened it and gently massaged the contents into the cut on her breast.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
The words were as much for his own reassurance as for hers. She nodded, whispered “Thank you,” and he cursed again and drew her against him, felt the race of her heart against his.
“Dammit,” he said, his voice raw and harsh, “he could have killed you! What in hell were you thinking, calling out like that?”
A tremor swept through her. “The other one…He was going to s-shoot y-you.”
Tanner groaned, cupped her head and brought her face to his shoulder. She burrowed into him and he shut his eyes, held her, inhaled her scent.
His own heart was galloping. If it went any faster, he’d be useless to them both.
