a chair he’d pulled next to the bed, watching me.
I sat up. “How long was I out?”
He sat on the bed next to me, taking my hand and offering human comfort. “An hour, maybe fifty minutes. Not nearly long enough.”
“What did you give me?”
“A mild tranquilizer. Apparently it wasn’t strong enough. You were on overload.”
“I shut down. I’m sorry.”
He stroked my hand. “It’s understandable.”
“I shouldn’t have. You didn’t have to stay with me. You could have been figuring things out, doing something else.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m in a bit of shock myself. And, I feel guilty.”
“Why?”
“I should have anticipated that Broodryk might do something like this. That he might seek revenge. Elvis and Xavier, they were out of the country, unprotected.”
“I don’t understand. Broodryk didn’t even know about Elvis, that he was there at the school, too, working against him.”
“He found out somehow. He knows you, so by extension everyone you know is at risk. Think about it. I found you through the Zimmermans. Broodryk could have easily found them through you. That’s on me. I made an error in judgment. I thought Broodryk would go deep underground and lay low. Instead, he did exactly the opposite. He went big, flashy and obvious. He’s thinking with his ego because you humiliated him. It’s stupid and damn risky for him. The problem is that Elvis is the unknown variable in this. I can’t see any way, yet, that this can play out where we get Elvis out safely.”
“We have to think of something.”
“I’m working on it.”
“I want to see the video. All of it this time.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
He held up a hand when I started to argue. “There are many reasons for that, the most important being that I no longer have access to a copy right now. It’s being tightly controlled at CIA headquarters where multiple teams, including some of the best network and digital forensic teams in the nation, are pouring over it.”
He stood and joined me on the bed, putting an arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I’m working on getting you a transcript. That way you can focus on the message without being distracted or distressed by the images.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He was right. I needed time to get emotionally prepared and I couldn’t do that if I kept imagining Elvis strapped to a chair. “I’m going to have to see the video soon.”
“I know.” He kissed my hair. “We’ll figure something out,
cara
.”
I’m not sure whether it was the biological byproduct of extreme stress or a desire to rid myself of the numbness in my mind and heart, but I slid out from beneath the covers and straddled Slash, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He looked at me with a question in his eyes.
I was emotionally and intellectually adrift, scared beyond anything I’d ever known. I was desperate to regain my focus, but first I needed the comfort and release I knew Slash could offer. Without a word, I kissed him. Fast, hard, needy.
He hesitated, then kissed me back. His hands slid into my hair, his mouth slanting over mine. Before I knew it, my sweater and T-shirt were off and his hands were everywhere. I reached for his shirt when his hands closed over mine.
His brown eyes shone with a predatory glow. But there was something else in them—concern. “Are you sure,
cara
?”
I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew the physical and emotional connection we shared would give me both the steadiness and relief I sought.
I lifted his hands to my lips and kissed them. “I’m sure. I’m not very good at expressing myself, but the truth is, before I met you, I didn’t understand the cost of solitude. Now that you’re here, I don’t have to pay that price anymore. I’m never alone with you. You...anchor me.”
He took one of my hands and pressed it to his chest. “No, you’re not alone.”
I cupped his face in my hands and
I sat up. “How long was I out?”
He sat on the bed next to me, taking my hand and offering human comfort. “An hour, maybe fifty minutes. Not nearly long enough.”
“What did you give me?”
“A mild tranquilizer. Apparently it wasn’t strong enough. You were on overload.”
“I shut down. I’m sorry.”
He stroked my hand. “It’s understandable.”
“I shouldn’t have. You didn’t have to stay with me. You could have been figuring things out, doing something else.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m in a bit of shock myself. And, I feel guilty.”
“Why?”
“I should have anticipated that Broodryk might do something like this. That he might seek revenge. Elvis and Xavier, they were out of the country, unprotected.”
“I don’t understand. Broodryk didn’t even know about Elvis, that he was there at the school, too, working against him.”
“He found out somehow. He knows you, so by extension everyone you know is at risk. Think about it. I found you through the Zimmermans. Broodryk could have easily found them through you. That’s on me. I made an error in judgment. I thought Broodryk would go deep underground and lay low. Instead, he did exactly the opposite. He went big, flashy and obvious. He’s thinking with his ego because you humiliated him. It’s stupid and damn risky for him. The problem is that Elvis is the unknown variable in this. I can’t see any way, yet, that this can play out where we get Elvis out safely.”
“We have to think of something.”
“I’m working on it.”
“I want to see the video. All of it this time.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
He held up a hand when I started to argue. “There are many reasons for that, the most important being that I no longer have access to a copy right now. It’s being tightly controlled at CIA headquarters where multiple teams, including some of the best network and digital forensic teams in the nation, are pouring over it.”
He stood and joined me on the bed, putting an arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I’m working on getting you a transcript. That way you can focus on the message without being distracted or distressed by the images.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He was right. I needed time to get emotionally prepared and I couldn’t do that if I kept imagining Elvis strapped to a chair. “I’m going to have to see the video soon.”
“I know.” He kissed my hair. “We’ll figure something out,
cara
.”
I’m not sure whether it was the biological byproduct of extreme stress or a desire to rid myself of the numbness in my mind and heart, but I slid out from beneath the covers and straddled Slash, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He looked at me with a question in his eyes.
I was emotionally and intellectually adrift, scared beyond anything I’d ever known. I was desperate to regain my focus, but first I needed the comfort and release I knew Slash could offer. Without a word, I kissed him. Fast, hard, needy.
He hesitated, then kissed me back. His hands slid into my hair, his mouth slanting over mine. Before I knew it, my sweater and T-shirt were off and his hands were everywhere. I reached for his shirt when his hands closed over mine.
His brown eyes shone with a predatory glow. But there was something else in them—concern. “Are you sure,
cara
?”
I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew the physical and emotional connection we shared would give me both the steadiness and relief I sought.
I lifted his hands to my lips and kissed them. “I’m sure. I’m not very good at expressing myself, but the truth is, before I met you, I didn’t understand the cost of solitude. Now that you’re here, I don’t have to pay that price anymore. I’m never alone with you. You...anchor me.”
He took one of my hands and pressed it to his chest. “No, you’re not alone.”
I cupped his face in my hands and
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