Page 48 of Defending You

He sighed, the sound loud in the silence.

She was being difficult. She hated being difficult, but she was even less fond of torture, and at the moment, this felt like torture.

The sound of a zipper opening was followed by the whoosh of cloth, she guessed, rubbing against the hard floor.

Then something soft landed in her lap.

“Spread that out.” His voice was barely audible. “We’ll lie on top of it.”

“Okay.” She tried to match his volume. Spreading a blanket beneath where she was sitting was no easy task, especially with the low ceiling. Finally, she got it done.

Asher handed her a couple more things, also soft. Sweatshirts, she guessed. “For our heads.”

She folded them and placed them near the cab.

“Come on.” He stretched out beside her. “Let’s get comfortable.”

Right. Seemed impossible, but why not try? She was tired enough to rest anywhere at this point.

She settled on the blanket—how did he have a blanket?—and bunched the sweatshirt beneath her head.

Asher lay beside her. His shoulders were so wide that she had to scoot down to find room.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, like he could control his own size.

“You should be, space hog.”

That earned a low chuckle.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Cici was trying to get comfortable on the hard truck bed, and so, she assumed, was Asher. The blanket helped, but not much. They both kept shifting, moving this way and that. Bumping each other. Every touch brought a fresh jolt of awareness. It was almost too hot in the space to enjoy Asher’s closeness. Almost.

Flat on his back, he stilled, exhaling as if he’d given up. “I’m guessing your cousin’s plane is a little more comfortable than this.” His voice was a low rumble beside her, though his sarcasm was evident.

“Only by a few degrees.”

Another chuckle, one she felt as much as heard.

“I’ll admit,” she said, “a stolen car would have been less…”

“Agonizing?” he supplied.

“But I’m not complaining,” she was quick to say. “We’re off our feet, and we’re…safe?” Against her will, her voice pitched up at the end like a question, revealing fear she hadn’t wanted him to hear.

“We are, Cici. We’re safe. Worst case scenario, the owner finds us and kicks us out.” He shifted again. “Do you mind if I…?” His arm stretched across the truck bed above her head. “I just need to?—”

“It’s fine.” It gave her a little more space, a little air between them. The air was refreshing, but a tiny part of her missed the contact with him.

A voice outside had them both stilling. It was a man, answered by a woman.

The truck beeped, and then doors opened.

She felt Asher’s tension rising. He was preparing for a fight.

The truck jostled as people climbed in. New voices, too. Kids, maybe?

Doors slammed, the truck roared to life, and then they started moving. Heading…somewhere, hopefully north, toward Maine. But wherever they landed, they’d have escaped their pursuers.

Though the thought brought relief, her fear was still there. Somehow, the men following them kept finding them. And they had no idea how.