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Ellie gave the metal cot a ferocious kick. It leaped and rattled alarmingly in response.

Thankfully, her boots held up to the impact. Otherwise, all she would’ve gained herself was a stubbed toe.

Frustration bloomed up to match her rage… and then fizzled into something more unsettling.

Ellie slumped back against the post at the rear of the tent as she fought a rising sense of despair.

She had well and truly mucked this up.

“Fiddlesticks,” she breathed with soft dismay.

Ellie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, willing back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her defenses. She wouldnotcry. They would think she was weak if she did—and she wasnotweak.

She was clever, resourceful, and determined—and she was damned well going to act like it.

Her thoughts shifted to Adam as though by force of gravity. They stopped on the memory of the look on his face as Mendez had dragged her out of Dawson’s tent.

It wasn’t a look that she had seen before. Ellie was accustomed to looks that spoke of respect and camaraderie—looks that made her feel important. Appreciated.

She wondered if Adam would ever look at her like that again.

Elliehadto talk to him. She had to find a way to get him alone so that they might figure out how they were going to get out of this mess… and so that she might come clean about the rest of what she’d been hiding.

Even if it meant that those looks would get even worse.

Ellie slowly lifted her head from the post and turned her thoughts to how she might make that happen.

?

Twenty-Four

Adam watched Mendezdrag Ellie from the tent. An unnamable tumult of emotions roiled in his chest at the desperate, scared look she threw back at him.

He gritted his teeth with the effort of not allowing any of it to show on his face—not here. Not in front of the men who’d just captured them.

They already held all the cards. They hardly needed any extra advantages.

“Report the results to me when you are finished, professor,” Jacobs ordered as he moved to leave the tent.

Dawson spluttered a protest.

“Are you just going to leave me here with this… him?” he said, waving an uncomfortable hand in Adam’s direction.

“Mr. Staines will stay with you,” Jacobs replied dismissively.

“I should think we would need more than that!” Dawson retorted. “What if he runs off or… or attacks me!”

Jacobs swung his gaze to Adam. It locked there with quiet confidence.

“I don’t believe we’ll need to worry about that,” he concluded.

Then he left.

Adam forced himself to unclench his fists and breathe. Pounding the nearest person into a puddle wasn’t going to solve any of his problems. He needed to be smart about this.

Setting aside his very real need to hit something, Adam took a better look at his situation.

Dawson’s gaze moved nervously from Adam to the remaining guard. Staines was eyeing the neatly made cot like he very much wanted to plop down onto it and do his guarding from a more comfortable position. After a glance at the red-faced Dawson, Staines obviously determined that the more prudent course was to stay on his feet. He adjusted his grip on the rifle, looking bored and uncomfortable.