Part Two
He slowly, silently lifted himself up, freeing his hands of the hook once again, his eyes never leaving their captors while he dropped to the floor. Even watching him move, she couldn't believe he was that silent and she wanted to laugh at the bastards who had no idea what was coming.
Unfortunately, she got the second half of his message a moment too late.
He pulled something out of his pocket, snapped the top and tossed it, turning away and covering his eyes. Before she realized she was supposed to do the same, the flash blinded her, the painfully loud sound deafening her at the same time.
It wasn't going to do her headache any good. Two flashbangs in one day were bound to have lasting side effects.
She knew the blindness would fade in a few seconds, but she didn't plan to open her eyes anyway, not with how light sensitive she knew she'd be. The deafness would last longer. The combination of the two left her completely useless. John had been trying to warn her to cover her eyes, hoping that she'd be a little help. Instead, she hung there and waited, unsure what the hell she could do.
She felt his hands on her, at least she hoped they were his hands, pushing her feet out from under her, leaving her full weight to hang on her wrists. His hands were still bound, she realized, feeling the circle of his arms as they moved up from her feet, over her legs, and settled around her hips. She really wanted to ask him what the hell he was thinking, but there was no point. He'd covered his eyes, not his ears, so he was as deaf as she was at the moment.
He pulled her tight against him, struggling to lift her in the awkward position. As she shifted her arms and brought her hands down, she felt the tensing of his body as he fired the gun he'd taken, his hands shoving into her back with the kick, she stumbled against him, her joined hands falling onto his shoulder. She was no good to him in a fight, no use to herself in escaping. She had to stand there and just not be in his way until her senses came back to her. But he'd kept his word about not leaving her. She needed to stop doubting the man.
He began moving forward, both of them tripping over her feet as she tried to figure out where he wanted her to move. With his arms around her, it was difficult to get far. They could have used a moment or two to figure out what the hell they were trying to do and how best to do it, but with the way he turned and continued to fire on the men she couldn't see, she knew they'd just have to make do. He'd promised he wouldn't leave her behind and he was a man of his word, even if it would probably get them both killed.
By the time they'd staggered to the door, she could see again. It hurt like hell, but at least she had some idea of what was going on besides the overwhelming notion of being helpless in John's arms, though she concluded that any time she was lucky enough to be in the man's arms she'd be helpless whether or not she was in full command of her faculties.
She pulled back to catch his eyes, nodding at him to let him know she could see.
He nodded back, lifting his arms from around her and grabbing her hands instead. It would still be awkward, both of them still sporting bound hands, but they didn't have time to untie themselves.
He wanted to close his eyes, put on some extremely thick sunglasses and lock himself in a very dark, very quiet room. Though his eyes had been covered, the headache made his eyes water even in the waning light of dusk. His ears were ringing, a disconcerting side effect of having been way too close to way too many flashbangs, but Carter was safe and her vision had returned, though he knew she'd kill him for the headache she'd have for the next several hours.
He was fairly certain he'd gotten all the men left in the building, but it was hard to keep track of them with the way they'd been coming and going. Plus the way Carter had been staring at him, mentally eviscerating him, had been distracting, leaving him to wish he was as good with apologizing with a glance as she was at tearing him apart. Not knowing how many men were left to chase them, he grabbed her hands and ran. He wouldn't have minded keeping her wrapped in his arms for a while longer, forever actually, but she probably wouldn't appreciate it, even if there weren't people trying to kill them.
He hadn't been able to see anything of value when he'd looked out the window earlier, just a lot of trees. A mountain in the distance. Nothing recognizable. Nothing to tell him where they were. He'd have to wait until they could both hear before he could ask Carter if she'd been awake when they'd been transported there.
They raced down the hallway toward the double doors at the far end. He hoped for a car, something they could escape in. The men who'd been there had to have gotten there somehow. Bursting through the doors in what was probably a terribly loud and attention-getting manner if one could hear, he found nothing. The parking lot was overgrown with weeds and debris that indicated it had been a very long time since anyone had driven there.
Refusing to give into the disappointment, he continued moving, leading Carter around the perimeter of the building. They had to have gotten there somehow. There had to be something with wheels and a motor. It wouldn't do any good to rescue Carter only to get recaptured a few minutes later. He kept his hopes up as he turned the second corner, ignoring the instinct in his head that recognized the circular pattern of the debris around the lot that indicated a helicopter.
If they were trapped in the middle of nowhere with no way out and he'd wounded rather than killed all the men in the area... fuck, she was going to kill him.
Perhaps the worst part of it was that between the massive headache and the deafness, he wasn't on top of his game. Had he not been worried about getting Carter out of there, he would have helped himself to one, or ten, of the weapons in the room besides the now half-empty handgun he'd been able to conceal in his pocket.
He didn't have time to untie their wrists, not without knowing how long it would take for someone to give chase, and after the way she'd begged him to help her earlier, he wasn't about to let go of her. To hell with how uncomfortable it would be to run in their current positions. He was keeping his hands on hers, offering her whatever reassurance that his touch gave her.
He only had seconds to make the call, recognizing that there was no car in their future. There was a road, not in the best shape, but it probably led to a town. Unfortunately, there was no cover whatsoever along it as far as he could see, which would leave them sitting ducks for Elias' men to follow. The only other choice was the woods and the hills in the distance, not quite the optimum choice given their attire and lack of supplies, but at least there was somewhere to hide. He made the decision and started walking, his arms twisted sideways so his hands stayed folded around Carter's. He'd spent a lot of time on the run in his life; he kind of liked having someone there to hold onto.
It was disorienting to hear nothing as she tripped into the forest. Every time she took a step, she expected to hear the crunch of leaves and twigs, but there was nothing. There wasn't much to see either, between squinting against the headache and the sudden fall of night in the thick trees. She tripped along beside John as best she could, wishing he'd remember that he had quite a few inches on her, realizing that he'd already shortened his stride considerably. She wondered about his grip on her hands, confused why he'd slow them both down with the physical contact, but she wouldn't have argued even if either of them could hear.
Between his hands and her deafness, the dark woods weren't nearly as scary as they might have been otherwise. It was a blessing, she decided, that she couldn't hear the creepy sounds of animals and whatever else made its home in the darkness. Of course, it would be a decided disadvantage to not be able to hear anyone following them, which she assumed was why John was dragging her into the woods in the dark - because it was the safest possible option.
They staggered along for maybe an hour, by which time it was so dark that they'd both walked into trees repeatedly. It was just as dangerous to keep moving at that point, she knew, as to sit down and wait for morning. They were exhausted and impaired, so a little rest while their bodies recovered would be more helpful than pushing themselves until they collapsed. She wished she could tell him, remind him that she wasn't in the same kind of shape, mental or physical, as him which would keep him moving beyond human limits.
But he seemed to realize it on his own, slowing his pace and eventually stopping next to a group of large rocks. His hands were still on hers, allowing him to pull her to the ground with him. Her knees folded, her body sagging onto the uncomfortable forest floor. It might as well have been a feather bed for how wonderful it felt just to sit down. He finally let go of her hands, allowing her to loop her arms around her knees.
It took barely a second in the bliss that was relaxing for her to realize that it was cold. She'd been dressed for work and had left her blazer tossed over the seat of the car to keep it from getting wrinkled. If only she'd known that she'd be spending the night in only her light cotton blouse and slacks and she might have thought better of wrinkles.
He couldn't possibly have seen her shivering, it was too fucking dark for her to see her own hands, but he knew anyway. He scooted up behind her, his arms reaching over her head and coming down in front of her, pulling her back against him, his legs pressing against hers, his body cradling hers, warming her, comforting her.
It was the exhaustion, she told herself, and the fear and the nerves that made his touch feel so good. Otherwise she would never have felt so comfortable in such an intimate position with someone who, no matter how much she trusted him, was a stranger. But like all her interactions with him, her instincts won the argument with her brain, telling her to relax gratefully into the warmth of his body. She trusted the man with her life, with her son's life; it wasn't much of a stretch to trust him with her body.
So content she was already about to fall asleep, she barely noticed when he reached up to pull the gag from her mouth. He pulled off his own, then reached toward her wrists and began working through the knots to untangle the rope. It felt so good to be able to move her arms independently, to simply let her arms drop to hers sides for a moment. Of course, doing so resulted in her hands landing on his thighs, promptly reminding her that he probably expected her to return the favor.
She was almost loathe to do it, fearing that the first thing he would do when he was unbound would be to move away from her. But she could hardly deny him the simple comfort that he'd given her by removing the ropes from her sore wrists. She worked through the knots, her slim fingers making quicker work of them than John's had, finally pulling the loose rope free and tossing it into the darkness.
She heard it fall, realizing belatedly that her hearing had returned. She turned her head toward him, glad that he hadn't yet moved away. "John?"
He didn't answer, his attention instead on wrapping his freed arms over hers, pulling her tightly against him, his legs shifting inward as well, more or less giving her a whole body hug. As skinny as he was, he was still twice her size, dwarfing her with his enormous frame, making her feel safe and protected and precious with the way he cradled her.
So he had no plans to pull away and she was thankful for that. She needed the comfort, the reassurance, the warmth. Despite the circumstances, she was happy in that moment. For whatever reason, this amazing man wanted to prove himself to her, show that he was worthy of her good opinion. She couldn't wait for his hearing to return as well so she could tell him he didn't need to try so hard.
It was unbelievable enough that he was holding her.
It shocked her when his face turned into her, his lips brushing against her cheek, his head ducking down to nuzzle her neck.
She groaned, unprepared for the intense wave of desire that rolled through her. Her head fell to the side to allow him better access and he took full advantage of it, dragging his lips across her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. Her hands fell on his thighs again, her nails digging in to hold him still in case he tried to get away.
His hands were moving too, brushing along her waist, his fingers slipping under her shirt to caress her skin. He wanted her, she could feel his body responding, and it surprised her that she'd never realized how badly she wanted him until now. Yes, she'd known that he was attractive and that he couldn't seem to communicate without flirting, but she wasn't prepared for the way his gentle touches overwhelmed her.
She dragged her nails along his legs, preparing herself to turn around and attack him with the desire he'd stoked, but his hands suddenly shifted, sliding down her arms, grabbing her hands, wrapping her back in a hug as his chin tucked over her shoulder.
God, he fucking wanted her. He wanted her like he'd never wanted anyone or anything ever in his life. But it was more than physical, more than fucking her. He couldn't face losing her, he'd suffered enough when she'd been angry at him, and he knew that if he let it happen like this, she'd hate him for it. She was happy to be alive and free and untied and was perfectly willing to show her gratitude by doing something she'd regret when morning came.
And that was one thing he wouldn't be able to stand - being her regret.
If anything ever happened between them, which he wanted far more than he cared to admit, he wanted it to last. He wasn't going to be able to just walk away from her and pretend it was nothing.
Unfortunately, without being able to explain himself, their ears still deafened from the second flashbang of the day, he knew she'd just feel rejected. There was nothing he could do besides wrap her tightly in his arms and rest the side of his face against hers. He couldn't take advantage of her, even if it meant hurting her feelings in the short term.
He felt her shaking and he knew it wasn't from the cold, no, just a few minutes of their interlude had left them both overheated. She was crying, crying because he'd stopped her, because she thought he didn't want her, though how she could think that with the evidence of the effect she had on him pressed against her ass he'd never know. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he held her close instead.
After the events of the day, it didn't take long before she started to drift off to sleep, he could feel her body growing heavy and pliant in arms. He could imagine falling asleep with her like that every night, witnessing the obvious trust she placed in him. He longed for a day that he could even hope for such a thing.
He moved his lips next to her ear, whispering something he'd never be able tell her if she would have been able to hear it.
"I love you, Jos."
Her eyes opened wide, staring in shock into the darkness. She'd nearly cried herself to sleep when he'd rejected her, only realizing as she was falling asleep that he was probably protecting her, as always. He was a man, an aroused man at that, and he wouldn't have stopped them just for the hell of it.
And then he'd spoken, the sweet whisper against her ear almost unbelievable to her hardened, jaded psyche.
"John?"
Nothing. No answer, no movement. Had he fallen asleep that quickly?
But no, he was awake, his arms shifting, his fingers lacing between hers.
He still couldn't hear and must have thought she couldn't either.
AN: I realize that the effects of flashbangs don't last as long as they did here, but I took artistic license with it. Hope it didn't ruin the story for anyone.