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“Your T-shirt is getting wet. Do you want me to braid your hair?”
I stare at him, and I’m pretty sure my mouth is open, but no sound comes out.
“I don’t have to.” He shrugs.
“No,” I croak out in surprise. I’m not used to people doing nice things for me, so it always throws me for a loop.
He moves to put the comb down, but I step forward.
“No, I mean, that would be great, actually. Thank you.”
He sits back in his chair and turns it so that he’s facing me before spreading his legs a little.
“You feel okay sitting on my lap? That way, you can eat while I do your hair. If you’re not comfortable, I can stand up, and you can use the chair. It’ll just be a little more awkward because the chair is high-backed.”
I bite my lip, indecision warring inside me, before I swallow down my nerves.
“Okay.” I walk forward and stop, unable to take the last step. Now that I’m not stuck in survival mode, I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to be doing or how I’m supposed to act. As he takes me in, I realize I feel utterly lost. For now, I think maybe it will just be easier to let them lead so I can follow.
CHAPTERFIVE
Zig
She looks as if she is barely hanging on, and as much as I try to feel nothing on these jobs, there is something about this woman that tugs at my heartstrings. I hold my hand out to her when she holds herself back. I can see she wants to move, but self-preservation is probably reminding her that any human contact she has had lately will not have been of the nurturing variety.
She lifts her shaky hands, showing me the sandwich in one and the paper bag in the other. With a chuckle, I lean forward and place my hands on her hips, then sit her on my lap with her back pressed against my front. She is as stiff as a board, poised to run at the first sign of trouble. Oz is surprisingly quiet, sensing, like me, that she needs a moment to adjust.
Getting out of that place would have been her main objective. But now that she’s free, ten to one, she’s realizing she’s trapped on a plane with two strange men and nowhere to go.
I reach for the comb and start combing her hair. I grip a small handful and work out the tangles from the ends first, not wanting to hurt her any more than she has. As I continue to comb, she slowly begins to relax.
“You can put the bag on there while you eat.” I point to the small shelf between Oz and me, where we usually set our drinks.
She puts it down almost reluctantly. I can’t say I blame her. I’m sure she’s used to not knowing when her next meal would be coming or even if she would be getting one. As she unwraps her sandwich and takes a bite, I begin dragging the comb down the full length of her hair, marveling at how light this woman is. She’s small, yes. But she could easily stand to gain another ten or even twenty pounds. It makes me want to turn the plane around and murder each cartel member with my bare hands.
She moans quietly in pleasure as she eats, and it takes everything inside me not to react to those noises. It’s only by concentrating on the state we found her in and imagining what she might have been through that I’m able to keep my dick from getting hard. The last thing I need to do is further traumatize the poor woman.
“Can you lean forward a little?” I ask her softly, not wanting to spook her. She tenses but leans forward anyway.
I divide her hair, splitting it straight down the middle and tying off one side as I work on the other. I can’t say I’m the king of braids, but Luna has always been a girly girl. With no mom or other sister around, it fell to me, Oz, and Gramps to do her hair growing up. Now she’s grown and has a daughter of her own. Although Ruby likes having her hair played with, it’s still a little short for braids.
I finish one side and reach for the other as Salem starts eating the rest of the food in the bag. I know she’s hungry, but she’s taking it slowly. I’m glad she listened to what I said. The last thing she can afford to do right now is make herself sick.
“There we go. How does that feel? Not too tight?”
She twists and turns her head, then lifts her hand to feel them before looking over her shoulder at me. Jesus fuck, with her face scrubbed clean and her hair like that, she looks so damn young. Too young to be an agent. I open my mouth to ask her what she does for them but think better of it. Chances are she can’t tell us anyway.
“It feels good. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking us for everything.”
“Sorry.” She flushes before turning and drinking the protein shake.
Once she’s finished eating, she shoves all the trash into the bag and shifts to get off my lap. I slide my hand around her stomach and hold her in place.
“You don’t need to leave. We could fly this thing with our eyes closed.”
“Please don’t do that.” She huffs out a nervous laugh, making Oz snort.
