“You had to walk over to the counter to get the candle and the matches. Honestly, Donovan, you could have fallen again or reinjured your leg. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because it was getting too dark to see in here. And I needed to find out if I could walk on my own.”
He thought it best not to mention that he’d also peeked out the door, just to make sure she was all right. He hadn’t liked having her out of his sight for that long. What he’d seen had caused him to spend the short time that had passed since getting his stubborn and uncooperative body back under control.
He couldn’t recall ever seeing anything more beautiful than Chloe standing unselfconsciously nude in that stream, a gracefully feminine cameo against the heavy gray clouds. It was a vision he would remember for a long time, one he expected to see quite often in his dreams.
Pushing the appealing image out of his mind for the moment, he nudged the can of fruit toward her. “You must be hungry now. Have the rest of this fruit.”
Still shaking her head in disapproval at his stubborn refusal to baby his leg, she moved to the other chair. She sank into it slowly, then nearly pitched sideways out of it when the chair wobbled sharply on uneven legs. She steadied herself quickly.
He’d started to move to catch her, but relaxed again when it was obvious that she didn’t need his assistance. “Okay?”
She bent to peer beneath the seat of her chair. “Looks like you’re not the only one in this room with a broken leg,” she murmured, then seemed to immediately regret the flippant words, judging by her self-recriminating expression.
He chuckled, wryly amused rather than offended. They might as well try to find some humor about their situation. It sure beat whining and griping, which wouldn’t have benefited either of them. And he was greatly relieved that Chloe hadn’t yet succumbed to tears. There was nothing that discomfited him more than a crying woman.
“Eat,” he said. “The fruit tastes pretty good.”
She picked up a fork with a weary smile. “I’m sure it does. But I’m almost too tired to chew.”
But she ate, anyway, and seemed to enjoy the simple fare. She had to have been as hungry as he’d been earlier.
She hadn’t even finished eating before the sky opened up again. Rain hammered noisily against the metal room. There were leaks, of course, but nothing too problematic.
In resignation, Donovan figured they might as well spend the rest of the night here and head out again at dawn. They would follow what little excuse for a road they could find, and hope that they found help before anyone dangerous found them.
He was certainly in no shape to defend himself and Chloe against at least three adversaries now.
Except for the sound of the rain, it was quiet in the cabin. Donovan couldn’t think of much to say as he rubbed his still-chafed right wrist and glared at his injured leg. It still throbbed from his activity earlier, and he could see that there was some swelling beneath the makeshift splint, but he didn’t think the break was too bad if it was broken. Cracked, maybe.
At least the bone didn’t seem to have shattered, and hadn’t punctured the skin. He’d broken bones before, and he knew this injury was more worrisome than dangerous, but he was still furious with himself for allowing it to happen.
How many more stupid mistakes could he make in front of Chloe? He’d been screwing up since she’d first gotten into his car, finally resulting in her being in this dismal position. He’d bet she never wanted to see him again once they got out of this mess. And he would get her out. Or die trying.
It had been well over twenty-four hours since they’d been taken. Donovan had no doubt that Bryan had already mobilized an extensive search, which would begin at the diner where they’d abandoned the car. Jason Colby, Falcon’s head of security, would be leading the search—and he was the best. If there had been any witnesses—anyone at all who’d seen the van near his car—Jason and Bryan would find them.
Because he knew them both so well, and because they’d trained and prepared for eventualities like this one, Donovan knew exactly what procedures Jason and Bryan would be following now. The entire area within driving distance of the diner would be marked into sections and teams dispatched to each. Bryan would spare no money or resources for the search—and he had plenty of each. He would be furious—and he wouldn’t rest until he knew Donovan and Chloe were safe.
Chloe set the empty can aside, the movement drawing his attention back to her. He was beginning to strongly doubt now that Bryan’s selection of a potential mate had been as calculated and cold-hearted as he’d led Donovan to believe.
Bryan had insisted that he’d chosen Chloe because of her qualifications as a potential wife and mother, and Donovan acknowledged those traits now. She was intelligent, competent, composed, resourceful—and stronger than she looked. She’d kept her head during this crisis; he knew plenty of women—and a few men—who would be in hysterics by now. Not once had she complained during the long, difficult night, even though her tender feet had been shredded by the nearly barefoot hike.
But there was more to admire about Chloe, he had to acknowledge. The way her hazel eyes reflected her emotions. The tiny dimples that flirted around the corners of her mouth when she smiled. The graceful sway of her hips when she walked. The silkiness of her hair, the softness of her skin. Her slender waist that emphasized the nice curves of her breasts and hips. Her long, shapely legs.
Since his friend was neither blind nor stupid, Donovan had no doubt that Bryan was aware of those physical attributes.
Donovan was becoming entirely too aware of them himself.
He watched as she smothered a yawn behind her hand. He started to rise, using a heavy stick he’d found propped in a corner for a cane.
Chloe moved to stop him. “What are you doing? If you need something,
I’ll get it for you.”
“I’m just checking out the bed. Maybe it’s reasonably clean since it’s been covered with a tarp.”
“The mattress is probably disgusting.”