A/N: Trivia question: What is the meaning behind Michail's tattoo?

.

.

Chapter Sixteen

Warning: Discussion of assault.

.

.

Jack climbed into the driver's seat of the SUV and Luca slid in on the passenger side. Les helped Ashley into the back and scooted in beside her, keeping her on his left side. He didn't expect trouble, but he wanted to keep his dominant hand free just in case. They were close to the finish line, but celebrating victory prematurely or getting distracted had tanked any number of operations, now was not the time to let their guard down. Until that plane went airborne, vigilance was the name of the game. Ashley was his responsibility, and he didn't intend to fail her. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

Les was on edge, restless and unsettled. It wasn't a gut feeling of trouble, more like a feeling the woman plastered next to him was more dangerous than an ambush. Les knew he should buckle her in, but he didn't want the space between them, so he left her where she was.

Her thigh pressed against his and Les pretended like he didn't notice. His mind said it meant nothing and to ignore it, but his body couldn't help but take note. It felt about a hundred degrees in the damn SUV, and sweat pooled at the base of his spine, causing his shirt to stick to his skin. He didn't dare roll down the window and he tried not to fidget. He struggled to breathe like all the air had been sucked out of the cab, when Ashley shifted against him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Les knew it was a spectacularly stupid move that broke protocol in a hundred different ways, but he put his arm around her and settled her against him, anyway. An hour or so to the marina was all he had to survive, so he gave himself a little pep talk. He could do this, act all casual about the whole thing. Pretend like his entire body wasn't buzzing like a hive of bees from her nearness, her touch. He could do this he repeated; whether he could do it without embarrassing himself or losing his sanity was a different question, one he chose to ignore. For right now, he was just focused on not passing out.

Les spent a few minutes staring out the window into the darkness at nothing, making every effort to look at something other than the dark head nestled against his chest.

Jack caught his eye in the rearview mirror and gave him a questioning look, a warning really. They all knew the rules. It was your job to keep physical and emotional distance from hostages. They'd been through a trauma and were looking for a lifeline, and you were it. They developed feelings for you, mostly born out of misplaced gratitude and hero worship. Those feelings weren't real, but the destruction left in their wake was.

Les looked away, unable to hold Jack's gaze. What did Jack know, anyway? Ashley wasn't the kind of woman to get sidetracked by hero worship. Jack hadn't been there when she forced herself to stand and walk out of that room under her own steam. Jack hadn't seen her gun down that guard to protect them both. She hadn't hesitated or fallen apart.

Ashley would never see Les as a hero, there was no danger of that. She was far too smart to fall into that trap. Ashley would see right through him, straight through the façade and the bravado to the truth. He wasn't a guy that deserved her devotion, and he definitely wasn't a hero. A woman like Ashley would never have feelings for a fuck-up like Les. Sure, he might be good for some things, but hero, let along boyfriend, didn't make that list.

His eyes drifted down to Ashley, asleep, snuggled into his side. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing soft and even, her face relaxed. Les told himself it was just exhaustion. Ashley had slept precious little in the last few days, and her body was shutting down. He was surprised she'd lasted this long. She was finally hitting the wall. Nothing more. This wasn't about trust; this was about biology. Plain and simple, and Les shouldn't read anything more into it. No way, no how. Ashley deserved better than Les. The last woman that had put her trust in him had died.

Suddenly her weight felt suffocating, and Les tried to shift her off of him, but her fingers curled into his shirt like talons and she made a little noise of discontent that lanced through him with unexpected precision straight to his heart. She needed this for her safety and well-being, Les rationalized. If this helped her sleep, he'd give it to her. The hell with Jack and his look of disapproval.

Les smoothed a hand over her dark hair, soothing her, and the death grip on his shirt relaxed. Les resisted the urge to lean down and kiss the top of her head. Snap out of it. He gave himself a mental head slap. Just a few more hours and Ashley would be on her way home and this shitshow would be over. He'd go back to his life, and she'd go back to hers and they'd forget all about each other.

Les had no doubt Ashley lived a good life, probably a charmed one, until this happened. For all he knew, she had a boyfriend, fiancé, or maybe even a husband anxiously awaiting her return. The thought stabbed him in the gut, but he stubbornly ignored it. It felt an awful lot like jealousy, but that was impossible. Les didn't do jealousy and definitely not over a woman.

He liked women just fine, just not the same one twice. He made it a point to not get attached or give them false hope. Over the years, he tried dating a few times, but it always got messy and emotional, and that really wasn't his jam. They always wanted more than he was willing to give and invariably that ended badly. Usually with them lighting his clothes on fire. No hit it and quit it was more his thing. Nowadays when he picked up a woman, he was always upfront about his intentions. No confusion, it was just sex. No second dates, no sleepovers, and no flowers, candy or dinners. He made sure they both had a good time and nobody got hurt.

Sure, sometimes he felt hollow inside when he crept out before dawn, and sometimes maybe he even felt used. What he was to them wasn't a mystery. He was well aware he was nothing more than a thrill to most of the women he slept with. The bad boy between their thighs that excited them and gave them a walk on the wild side. He definitely wasn't 'take home to momma' material.

Most of the time, that suited him just fine. Les figured if he spent most of his time with his head buried between a woman's thighs, it didn't leave a lot of time for talking or complaints for that matter. A man didn't develop much of a connection beyond the carnal that way. It also saved him from that awkward get to know you crap that scraped at his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. When the emptiness came, as it did more often these days, he took it out in the gym. That was a win-win for everybody.

Ashley shifted against him as they jostled over a pothole in the road. Her hand slid down over his abdomen, precariously close to his cock that immediately perked up and twitched in anticipation. Les sucked in a sharp breath. Jack gave him a questioning look in the mirror. Les gave a little negative shake of his head like everything was perfectly fine and he wasn't about to be the biggest jackass pervert in the free world.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, please don't let him get a hard-on. Les snagged her hand and put it on his thigh. The warmth of her touch still sizzled through him like electricity snapping and burning its way through his body. Even on his thigh, her hand was too close for comfort, so he slid her hand down to his knee and held it there trapped like a poisonous snake. That familiar heaviness and pressure started to build, and a flush went up his neck. Shit, this was bad on so many levels. He felt hysteria bubble in his throat even as he cursed himself for his weakness. He pressed his thighs together and mentally field stripped his weapon. He was totally going to hell for this.

Les pulled in some deep breaths. In through his nose, out through the mouth. The tightness of his cargo pants eased a little, and he sent up a brief prayer of thanks that he wasn't a total monster. Les switched to running Thanksgiving recipes in his head. He'd drawn the short-end of the stick and was on the hook to help Ella out with Thanksgiving dinner for the RangeMan team.

"What's wrong?" Ashley mumbled. Her head tilted up and her heavy-lidded eyes searched his face.

Les forced his body to relax, and he smiled down at her, surprised at how easily she had read him. A little flutter of unease beat against his chest.

"Nothing angel, go back to sleep." He pulled her a little closer.

"What are you thinking about?" She whispered.

Oh crap, was all Les could think as he stared into the depths of her mesmerizing blue eyes. They were darker, almost stormy when she was sleepy. Do not go there, Les admonished himself.

Les swallowed hard. "Just food."

His voice cracked like he was still going through puberty and he resisted the urge to mop his suddenly sweaty brow. Could he be anymore pathetic? Les, the king of smooth, had apparently hit rough air.

Her brows drew down like she was trying to figure out a problem. Well, good luck with that, because even Les didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but one that probably resembled a hyena.

She gave a little shake of her head like she thought he might be just left of normal and settled back on his chest and closed her eyes.

Before he even registered what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. She gave a little sigh. He would have sworn she had a smile on her face as she drifted back to sleep.

They jostled along for another forty-five minutes until they got to the marina. The plan was to board a boat and follow the Vltava river to Dresden. If everything went well, they would fly out of a small, private airstrip and Ashley would finally be safe.

The marina looked deserted, but Les hustled Ashley down the pier toward the boat at a quick clip. Jack and Luca scanned the area, looking for anything out of place, any potential threats. Les peered out into the night, searching. Every nerve in his body on high alert. He didn't see anyone, no lights on, no voices, no barking dogs, or unusual noises. Everything seemed calm, most people tucked away for the night. Still, he didn't enjoy being out in the open, and the quicker he got Ashley below deck, the quicker the cramp in his jaw would ease.

They headed towards a small cabin cruiser tied to the dock, rocking gently in the choppy water. He heard her hiss and her gait became uneven and slowed. His addled brain had forgotten she didn't have any shoes, and he mentally cursed himself. One more injury courtesy of Les.

He didn't have time to argue or negotiate, so he reached out and swung Ashley up into a bridal carry. Reflexively, her arms wrapped around his neck. She gave a little gasp, but she didn't protest. The weight of her in his arms felt good. It felt solid. Her soft curves pressed against him, and Les focused on not tripping over his own two feet. He doubled-timed it to the boat and stepped aboard without accidentally dumping her on the deck, which Les thought might be a minor miracle. He let her down as gingerly as possible, trying not to jostle her any more than absolutely necessary. He immediately missed the weight of her in his arms.

Luca and Jack started untying the boat, getting it ready to make way. Les gently guided Ashley towards the stairs that led below deck.

"Stay behind me." Les instructed.

He descended the stairs, gun drawn, and quickly checked out the small cabin.

"It's clear." He told her absently, not really looking forward to the next conversation.

He heard the engine start and the rumble vibrated underneath his feet as they idled out of the marina.

"Have a seat." Les motioned to the padded bench along the wall. "I need to ask you some questions, OK?"

Ashley gave him a wary look, but complied. She took a seat and waited. Luca joined them and handed Les a medical kit.

Les crouched in front of Ashley so they were at eye level. He worked to keep his expression completely neutral and his voice soft.

"I need you to tell me exactly what they did to you, so I know what kind of medical care you need. Some of it we can take care of now, the rest we will need to arrange for when you land. I'm only asking because I want to make sure you get exactly what you need as quick as possible. OK?"

Ashley nodded. "I understand." She whispered. Her fingers clutched the blanket around her and she picked nervously at a loose thread.

She looked so delicate and soft. So breakable. Her body trembled ever so slightly and he pushed down the rage that roiled inside him. He desperately wanted to wrap her in his arms and take away the pain, the terror, and the memories. Instead, he forced his hands to remain loose at his sides.

"It looks like you took a beating." Les made it a statement more than a question.

"Yes," her voice warbled a little. "Mainly to the torso."

"OK, I'll check out your ribs in a minute. Can you take a deep breath?"

"Yes, it hurts a little, but not too bad."

"That's good." Les gave her a nod of encouragement.

"Are you peeing any blood?"

She pursed her lips together and thought for a second. "No, I don't think so."

"You have cigarette burns on your chest and some swelling around your throat."

"Yes."

"OK, can you tell me what else they did to you?" Les resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, tell her everything would be OK, even though he hadn't been that naïve in a long time. Instead, he dug his nails into his palms and waited, and worked to keep his face blank.

Her chin tilted up defiantly. "You saw the video."

The challenge in her voice said she wasn't really asking. Her haunted eyes locked with his. Les briefly considered lying to her and telling her no, saving her the embarrassment of knowing he'd seen what happened, but a woman like Ashley deserved the truth, even if it hurt.

"Yes, I did." Les confirmed. As much as he wanted to tell her he was sorry, she didn't need his pity. She didn't want it.

Her shoulder tipped up in a half-shrug, and a lone tear popped out and ran down her cheek. She furiously brushed it away, irritated by its existence.

"Then you know what they did to me." Her voice flat and emotionless. Unease snaked through Les. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"So, Vivek used just the gun and his fist." Les asked looking for confirmation, willing himself not to vomit at the horror of what he'd seen. He wanted to shut his eyes and banish the image from his brain forever, but he couldn't.

Les kept his focus on Ashley and his expression blank. She didn't need to see his revulsion at what those animals were capable of any more than she needed his pity. He didn't want her to think, even for one second, that his revulsion had anything to do with her. It didn't. It rested solely with the fact he couldn't believe any man could be that barbaric. Les didn't get it. He never would. How a man could hurt a woman and take pleasure out of doing it was a mystery. While Vivek had assaulted her, the others had gotten themselves off. A bullet had been far too good for them.

"Yes." She answered. Her eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder but her voice was clear and strong.

"Nothing else?" He probed.

She shook her head. "No, they tried to make me go down on this guard, but I refused. He put a gun to my head and told me he was going to kill me." Tears streamed down her face unbidden, making little tracks in the dirt and grime, moisture clinging to her lashes.

Her gaze flickered back to Les, and she searched his face. This time, she didn't turn away. She looked him right in the eye. Anger vibrated just under the surface of her words.

"I told them to just kill me. I didn't care. I knew they would never let me go. It made the leader mad, that Vivek guy. He told them to force me, to pry my mouth open, but they were afraid I'd bite them, bite their, you know." Her voice trailed off. "Vivek got really pissed, and they held me down and did that to me instead."

Ashley looked away, staring at nothing, her back ramrod straight. Les hated like hell she had to relive it, but to her credit she held it together. Whether that was a good sign or a bad, he couldn't tell.

"There would have been no shame in it or anything you did." Luca kept his voice soft and reassuring. "You do what you need to do to stay alive. Keep from getting hurt worse."

Her eyes snapped to Luca; anger shimmered like blue fire. "I get that exactly none of this is my fault," she snapped. "But I'd rather die a lion than be slaughtered like a lamb." She practically spat at him.

Her breath heaved out of her chest, heat flushed across her cheeks and she glared at Luca. "Do you really need to be here." She hissed at him with enough venom it caused Les to flinch.

Les understood Luca's point, but what Luca didn't understand, for a woman like Ashley, the physical trauma might have been less, but the emotional trauma would have been so much more. Ashley was a fighter, and giving up wasn't in her nature. It would have broken her spirit.

"No ma'am. I'm sorry if I upset you." Luca looked to Les. "I'll be on deck if you need anything."

"Shit," she whispered as she slumped forward, all the fight and anger leaving her in a rush. "I'm being an ass."

Les reached out and used his thumbs to wipe the tears off her cheeks. "You're allowed." He gave her a smile, and she gave him a tentative one back.

"Except I'm really not. You and Luca, and everybody else, risk your life to save me. I don't get to be pissy because someone else did something bad to me. I'm grateful to all of you."

"I know, and Luca knows it, too. Don't worry about it."

Ashley didn't seem convinced, but she let it drop.

"I'll check your ribs and your burns. Then, you can have a shower. I'm sorry, but it will have to be a quick one, since we don't have much water. When you're done, I'll dress the burns. That sound OK."

"Yes." Ashley nodded.

Les reached out and took the edges of the blanket and pulled it down, tucking it around her waist. His fingers found the zipper of the windbreaker and he pulled it down. The sound echoed in the room, drowned out only by the erratic beating of his heart.

He slid the windbreaker down her shoulders and she pulled her arms out. His hands gently probed her throat. She tilted her head up to give him better access, and Les stared at the slender column of her throat. The redness still marred her fair skin, but the swelling had gone down.

His eyes glanced at her chest. He counted fifteen burns, and he clenched his jaw so hard; he thought his molars might crack.

His hands slid down, and he palpated her ribs. Ashley sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sorry, I know that hurts." Les murmured as he continued the exam.

"Then stop doing it." Ashley teased him.

Les smiled back at her. "Yes ma'am."

He finished up and pulled the blanket up to cover her torso. "Your ribs are bruised. I don't think they are cracked, and they are definitely not broken."

She made a noncommittal sound. Bruised or broken, Les knew it still hurt like the devil.

"I'm going to give you a shot of antibiotics and some pain meds. I have a Plan B packet in here if you want to take it." Les kept his voice casual, like they were discussing the weather.

Ashley reached out and put her hand over his, startling him. He looked down. Her hands were so small and fair compared to his. He brushed a thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was soft as silk and her touch was warm. A tingling heat radiated up his arm.

"Look at me Les Santos." She waited until his eyes met hers. "If I needed Plan B, I would tell you." Her gaze searched his face, willing him to understand. "I'm not some fragile flower that is going to wilt. What happened to me is going to haunt me for a long time, I know that. I do. But I'm not in denial. I swear."

Les covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Ok."

The truth was etched on her face, and a little of the tension eased. Les had been wrong. There was nothing delicate or breakable about her. She seemed fragile until she spoke with directness and conviction and then you saw the real Ashley. The one with a steel backbone. She was a damn strong woman, and in time she would be OK. Les reached into the bag and drew up a syringe from the enclosed vial.

"This is probably better in your buttock." He said with his best matter-of-fact voice.

Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks, but she stood up and turned her back to him, letting the blanket drop low on her back.

Les tried not to think about the flair of her hips that gave her that perfect hourglass shape, the little dip at the base of her spine, or the elegant curve of her back. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in lush waves and contrasted against the creamy expanse of her back. He took a moment to steady his hands, swabbed her hip, and quickly gave her the injection.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, and his gut did a somersault.

"All done?" she asked.

Les nodded, because he didn't trust his voice.

"I'm going to grab that shower now." She announced.

Ashley headed into the bathroom and when the door closed with a firm click, Les let out a whoosh of breath and scrubbed his hand down his face. Seriously, what was wrong with him? Every time he got near her, he turned into a babbling idiot. It was like his development had arrested in sixth grade and all he could do was mumble and stare at the floor. He needed to get it together before he embarrassed them both.