Page 42 of Capture Me


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Did she feel it, too? I frowned at her, determined.

She cocked her head innocently to one side. What?

I sighed and dropped my gaze. Then I looked towards the town and realized something: this close to civilization, I might have a phone signal.

I pulled out my phone, turned it on and held my breath…then exhaled when one bar appeared on the display. My phone started filling up with missed messages but I ignored them and just called JD. He answered after three rings. “Colton!”

“How’s Cal?” I asked immediately.

“He’s fine. It looked worse than it was. She didn’t hit anything vital.”

I sighed in relief. Tanya arched one eyebrow: see?

“Where are you?” asked JD.

“The ass-end of nowhere, boss. But I got our friend with me.”

“You found her?!” His mouth moved away from the phone. “He found her!” he told the others, and I heard a cheer. Then he came back on the line. “Good work,” he told me, and there was something in his voice that made my chest fill with pride. There wasn’t a better leader in the world than JD.

I told him I was going to figure out transport and then I’d rendezvous with him, then ended the call because I didn’t have much battery left. I took a deep breath. I hadn’t realized how much Cal’s stabbing had been weighing on me. Now, everything was going to be okay. We’d hike into town, rent a car, drive to where the rest of the team was holed up, take Tanya to the CIA and…

And then I’d never see her again. I wasn’t ready for the way that made my stomach lurch.

I pushed the thought away. I had a job to do. I started to get to my feet—

“Can we rest for a second?” asked Tanya. “Drink some water?”

I looked at her in surprise. It was rare for her to admit any kind of weakness. But she was right, we could use some water after that brutal climb. “Good plan.” I sat down and pulled a bottle of water from my pack, draining almost half of it in one go, and she did the same. And of course, once I’d sat down and got comfortable, I didn’t want to move again. My legs were aching and we’d been on the go since dawn. I stifled a yawn. “I could use a cup of coffee right about now,” I muttered.

Tanya glanced at me, started to speak…then changed her mind.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It was a stupid idea.”

I still couldn’t get over that accent, each syllable carved out of ice with a scalpel, each word glossily smooth and heavy with sultry mystique, melting into my mind and numbing my brain. “What?”

She sighed and waved at a bunch of weeds. “I was going to say I could make you some nettle tea.”

“Nettle tea?” The only tea I knew was the stuff Danny, the Brit, drank. He’d made me a cup once and I’d taken it politely, tasted it once and then poured it away when he wasn’t looking.

“Very refreshing,” she told me.

I felt my brow furrow. “Doesn’t it sting your throat?”

She laughed and it was amazing, musical and natural. She leaned forward, hugging her knees and for a second it was like whatever was weighing her down had lifted. “No, it doesn’t sting.” She shook her head and her smile died. “But we would need to make a fire. It’s a waste of time.”

I blinked. Just for a moment, I saw two sides of her, fighting it out. One was the cold, ruthlessly efficient spy I knew. The other was lighter, more innocent…and she wanted to do something nice for me.

I was tired. I really could use something hot and refreshing. And I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her just yet.

“We’re not in that much of a hurry,” I heard myself say.

She snapped her head round to look at me, almost like she was trying to catch me by surprise, to make sure I meant it. She pressed her lips together hard and there was a need in her eyes that broke my heart: that same need we all have, the need to be close to someone, to feel something…except she looked so completely unused to it.

Then she nodded quickly, smiled and stood. “You build a fire,” she said. She marched over to the patch of nettles—

“Wait!” I called.

She looked around, confused.

“You’re just going to grab them with your bare hands?” I asked.

She blinked. “How else would I grab them?”

“You’ll get stung!”

She looked at me as if I was insane. “It’s only nettle stings.” And she reached out again.

I don’t know what it was that bothered me more, the fact that she was going to hurt herself or the fact she didn’t care. But I marched over to her, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the nettles. Then I pulled my shirt down over my hand and grabbed a big fistful of nettles. “There. What do we do with them?”

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