Catching Red (7 page)

She bit her lower lip. “Can you pinch my nose?”

His expression turned quizzical. “I
could.
”

She took a deep breath. “Then do it. It’ll force me to open my mouth, and you can pour the whole thing down.”

Her proposal elicited a low chuckle. “Are you always this melodramatic when you get sick?”

She considered his question. “No—I don’t think so.” Falling ill forced her to become reliant on another. Throughout her childhood, obedience was necessary for survival. Her mother was incapable of coherent thought; her grandmother would just as soon walk away and let her die.

Without knowing how or why, she was certain Marcus would stick around no matter how poorly she behaved. The knowledge made her uncooperative. Guilt warred with reluctance. If he could sew up her wounds, keep her alive for three days, and let her feel his beard, the least she could do was follow orders.

She heaved out a breath and opened her mouth. After she swallowed every last drop of the disgusting concoction, he scooped up some snow and pressed it against her forehead. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm…hmm.” When it all melted, she nuzzled his hand. “Why do I feel like sleeping again?”

He kept his palm against her face. “Because it’s what your body needs. Don’t fight it.”

She doubted she had the ability. Her eyelids were already growing heavy. “Don’t leave.”

His fingers trailed over the other side of her face. “I’ll be right here. Get some rest. I’ll take care of you.”

* * * *

Marcus’ strong arm circled her waist as Scarlet tumbled forward. Frustration made her eyes burn. She needed to get out of here. She needed to go home. How the hell was she supposed to make it through the woods if she couldn’t take a single unaided step?

“Still think you can crawl your way through a blizzard?” He pulled her against his chest. Her hands flattened over hard muscle. She tilted her head up and glared at the cleft on his chin.

His mouth was unsmiling. His voice held no emotion. But she could sense he was amused by her floundering. It made her want to punch him. “I just need to rest for a moment.”

His pectorals vibrated against her palms as he laughed. “I hate to shatter your delusions of grandeur, but you might want to revise that estimate to a few days. Last night, you literally couldn’t move a muscle. No one gets from there to full strength in under twenty-four hours.”

Backing down wasn’t an option. He had already seen too many chinks in her armor. If her warped recollections proved accurate, she had also revealed more than she should. “Let me go. I want to try again.”

He lowered his head and tried to make eye contact. She focused her attention on the arm seam of his T-shirt. “While watching you land flat on your face has comedic appeal, I’m mature enough to resist the temptation.” With far too much ease, he scooped up her legs and lifted her off her feet. “It’s past time you got back to bed.”

Her voice grew high-pitched as he deposited her on the mattress. “I told you—I need to get back to my grandmother. She’s old and weak. She needs my help.” To her dismay, the lie came out stilted. She had told countless untruths to Eleanor and Mother Gothel. She had obfuscated her actions so many times she couldn’t always remember where the tale ended and verity began.

But a single glance from his blue eyes made her cheeks burn with guilt. His unwavering gaze threatened to choke away air. The desire to tell him her fears was an unrelenting lure. For the first time in her life, she understood why she had been indoctrinated to fear males. This one man held the power to turn her plans to ash.

He made a circling motion with his finger. “You’re beginning to sound like a broken record.”

Her wayward attention shifted to the least pertinent topic. It had been near impossible to focus ever since she woke up. “A broken record of what?”

“I have no idea. It’s just something people say.” When she opened her mouth, he lifted his hands in the air. “Let me just make my point real quick before you waste what’s left of your energy on a stupid argument.”

He marched to the bunker’s exit and unlatched multiple bolts. With a single heave, he pulled the door inward. A pile of white powder tumbled onto the floor as a freezing gust of wind blew in flurries of snow. Outside, the storm howled its fury. He turned to face her, quirked an eyebrow, and sealed the opening.

“It’s not that bad,” she muttered through chattering teeth. Though dry, his knee-length T-shirt did little to protect her from the sudden drop in temperature. “I’ll be fine.”

Once he was done shoveling the icy mess over to the drain in the bathroom, he returned to sit on the mattress. “This is the worst blizzard I’ve seen in years. Anyone caught out there is either dead or dying. Give yourself a break and just chill out for a few days.”

Because her previous attempt to stand had drained all her strength, she closed her eyes. “Why does it feel like we speak different languages? I have no desire to be any colder than I am now.”

He pulled the fleece blanket over her. Though the warmth was welcome, her shivers didn’t subside. “I’ll try to moderate my slang if you’ll refrain from constant attempts to break your neck. Your legs can’t support your weight. You can barely move, let alone walk. Stay put and accept my free nursing service.”

She released a tired breath. “You don’t understand. My grandmother is…”

“…counting on you. Has anyone ever told you it isn’t safe to blush when you lie?”

She opened her eyes and saw his patronizing gaze. What little resolve she had crumbled into a weakened mess. It was near impossible to keep up a pretense so far removed from the truth. “There
are
people who will suffer if I don’t make it back.”

“Don’t be so self-absorbed.” His words were harsh, but his voice was gentle. He never ceased to make her feel off-balance. “Bad people will continue to do bad things. Good people will get the opposite of what they deserve. It’s the way things are and always will be. You’re doing the best you can. No one can expect more.”

But so much depended on her success. This place—this man—made her feel safe. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. “Get it through your thick head. I can’t waste any more time.”

He made an exasperated sound and jabbed his fingertip between her brows. “Try to get up.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

He crossed his arms. She was beginning to realize it was something he did when he felt he had the upper hand. “If you can lift into a seated position without my help, we’ll continue this discussion. Otherwise, the point is moot.”

Stubbornness prompted her to straighten her shoulders. She pressed her palms onto the mattress and pushed as hard as she could. But she had neither the strength to prop herself up nor the momentum to scoot her bottom back. She clenched all her abdominal muscles and still couldn’t peel her spine off the bed. Tears stung her eyes as her skin grew warm from the failed exertion. He was right. There was nothing she could do.

She slumped against the pillow and bit back a frustrated moan.

He cupped her face and tilted it until their gazes locked. “Don’t you dare start the waterworks. I can’t imagine a worse nightmare than being trapped in a bunker with a crying woman.”

Her lower lip quivered. The tip of her nose felt hot. “What’s wrong with me?”

His blue eyes reflected a hint of panic. “Give yourself a f-freaking break. I’ve seen grown men turn to whimpering babies—you’ve been a trouper.”

He lowered his arms. His hand reached toward her abdomen. Her fist crashed into his face.

He howled. “Seriously, woman?”

Horrified, she stared at him. Her grandmother had always chosen the torso to inflict damage while Scarlet was down. Self-defense was instinctive. She tried to take a deep breath and had it interrupted by a series of dry sobs. “I’m so sorry…force of habit…” Her vision blurred.

He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Now, now.” His voice sounded strained. “There’s no need to get weepy.” He rubbed his jaw. “It didn’t hurt at all—”

A fat drop of hot liquid rolled down her cheek. “I have to get back…I just have to…”

He blotted the tear with a corner of the blanket. “Look, you’re not thinking straight. Low blood sugar and dehydration is messing with your head. When exactly do bodies start dropping?”

His poor choice of words felt like a blow to the gut. Her face must have crumpled since he quickly revised his query. “How long does it take to get from here to wherever you need to go?”

She bit her lip and tried to pull herself together. The effort only intensified her light-headedness. “A day—but who knows how fast I can move in this weather?”

Judging from his slight squint, he was trying to choose his words with care. “All right. How long do you have before this unspecified threat of death and destruction rains down on this indeterminate group of people?”

She counted off the days in her head. It should have been a simple calculation, but her brain refused to cooperate. “Two and a half weeks. Three at the most.”

His expression signaled relief. “Then why the hell are you killing yourself to get out the door?”

His ignorance, though annoying, was understandable. He had no idea what she was up against. “The longer I take, the more things can go wrong. If that happens and people get hurt, it’ll be my fault.”

“So the world revolves around you now?” She had a feeling he was aggravating her on purpose. There was no other explanation for his mocking expression.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

He shrugged. “It seems you’ve got a hero complex, that’s all. Who died and made you in charge of other people’s fates?”

She ground her teeth together. “I never
asked
for the responsibility.”

“But you’re willing to sacrifice your life for it.” He lowered his hand and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Kudos. But until your spindly little legs are strong enough to take you out of here, I’m giving you permission to take a vacation.”

“Vacation” was another one of those words she had read but never quite understood. Her confusion must have been evident since he elaborated. “Until this storm blows over, which will take at least a week, all I want you to worry about is adding meat to those bones. You look so fragile it’s giving me the creeps.”

Concern clawed at her. “A week is a long time. What if I get back too late?”

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Starting any sentence with ‘what if’ is a recipe for disaster. You’re no use to anyone until you’re in fighting shape. Then we’ll deal with this life-or-death situation you refuse to tell me about together.”

Even though she knew she couldn’t accept his offer, the pressure on her chest lightened. “There is no
we
. I neither need nor want your help.”

He gave her a slow blink as his lips pursed together. After considering her predicament, she was forced to amend her statement. “I mean…I don’t need help after I’m strong enough to leave this place.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now, are you going to throw yourself a little pity party or will you let me feed you?”

The thought of eating another packet of weird dried meaty gunk almost made her throw up in her mouth. “Whoever filled up those foil-wrapped blocks you insist I eat didn’t know the first thing about cooking.”

Judging from his expression, he shared her opinion. “I know it tastes like sh-crap, but I can’t hunt in this weather. Those MREs are all we’ve got. We’re lucky this safe house is stocked with more than a month’s supply.”

She searched for an excuse and came up with something that was also true. “I’m too cold to eat.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Sorry about that. I regretted my stunt the moment snow started blowing in.”

He widened his eyes and stuck out his lower lip. Fluttering lids further enhanced the effect. His feigned guilt was so comical she couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure you do. You enjoy proving you’re right.”

He grinned. “It’s satisfying on the few occasions I succeed. Since I grew up with three younger sisters, opportunities to win arguments are rare.”

She pulled the blanket up to her neck. “I’m not your sister.”

His jocular expression wavered. “I know—and I have a proposal for warming you up.”

Since the tip of her nose had gone numb, she was desperate to hear it. “You have my attention.”

He closed his hand over her trembling fingers. “The most efficient method is for us to share body heat.”

Her cheeks flushed with warmth. The increasingly erratic behavior of that particular body part was beginning to annoy her. “Why is this happening now? I haven’t lied about anything.”

His smile made her fingertips tingle. “You don’t know why you’re blushing?”

She scowled. “I have no clue. Blood seems to be rushing to my face at random intervals.”

“Allow me to test a theory.” He pulled the blanket out of her hands and brought it down to her belly.

When she followed his gaze to her chest, her neck and face seemed to go up in flames. Judging from his expression, the reaction brought him significant satisfaction. “So why is this happening to me?”

There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “You’re smart enough to guess I’ve seen you naked.”

She frowned. “Of course you have. When I woke up, I smelled like I had taken a dozen baths and was wearing dry clothes. You couldn’t have accomplished it without taking my gear off.”

Even as her mind dismissed the obvious conclusion as inconsequential, her body reacted to the reminder in an odd manner. Her mouth went dry. Her stomach flipped.

She forgot to breathe when he trailed his finger from the sensitive spot behind her ear down the slope of her neck. “Am I the first man who has seen you without your clothes on?”

He was the first man to see her, period. Despite living outside the compound for seven years, she had managed to maintain a safe distance from all men. The few she spotted on her scouting missions posed a greater threat than the undead.

Life in the wastelands required a ruthlessness that favored the depraved. Those who attracted the attention of other nomads lost their lives more often than not. Time and again she watched from the shadows as groups of bandits wreaked havoc on travelers and small settlements, knowing her only chance at seeing the next morning lay in being unheard and unseen. Fearing men had been too integral a part of her indoctrination to ignore, and she was certain her ingrained wariness of the other sex had helped her survive.