Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law #5)(49)

She closed the bathroom door and clicked on the penlight, placing it on the edge of the sink. Colt had undersold the bathroom as tiny. The room was so small there was barely room to move without bumping into something. She removed her filthy clothes, tossing them into the shower for a rinse along with her, then turned on the shower and stepped into the stream of water.

The water wasn’t icy, by any means, but for someone who liked her showers flesh-reddening hot, it made her grit her teeth. She hadn’t seen soap, so she grabbed a bottle of shampoo and used that to clean herself, figuring her clothes would benefit from the falling residue. She hurried through the process, both because she didn’t know how much water was in the tank and because she didn’t want to leave Colt without backup any longer than she had to, then turned off the shower and wrung out her wet clothes as well as she could manage.

Wrapping herself in the sheet in a way that she could trust the thin cloth to remain in place required flexibility gained from yoga and memories from a college toga party attended many years ago. She finally managed a one-shoulder design that while not fashionable was functional enough to move quickly if needed and with minimized risk of leaving her exposed. Satisfied that it wasn’t going to get any better, she grabbed her wet clothes and towel and went back into the main room.

Colt stood at the kitchenette counter and looked over at her with a grin. “I found cans of ravioli and a Coleman stove with propane. How does a hot ravioli dinner sound?”

Her stomach rumbled and she laughed. “Sounds like gourmet. Let me take over.”

He nodded and she took over watching the cans of ravioli as he grabbed his sheet and towel and headed into the bathroom. She stirred the ravioli, pulling the bottom pasta up to the top, her stomach clenching as the smell of tomato sauce wafted up at her.

His excitement over finding something decent to eat was called for, but she figured most of it was for her benefit. Colt knew they were in a bad situation and even a porterhouse steak wasn’t going to make things better. What bothered her most of all was the feeling of being trapped. She’d never been in a situation where she wasn’t able to simply walk away—except for while flying, but that wasn’t the same.

In Bart’s camp, she was cut off from all technology, basic utility services, food and clean water, and even the means to get back to civilization without the risk of being eaten or shot. It was disconcerting and had her on edge. Every creak of the camp or whistle of the wind had her drawing the blankets aside and peering out into the darkness, wondering if the shooter was still there, biding his time.

She sighed and stirred the ravioli once more. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

The door to the bathroom opened and she looked over in surprise, not realizing how much time had passed since he’d left the room. Colt hadn’t bothered with fancy sheet dressing. Instead, he’d chosen to fold it in half and wrap it around his waist a couple of times. The result was exposure from the waist up and the top of his knees down.

But that wasn’t the only result.

Her pulse quickened and she sucked in a breath, then whipped back around to the counter, hoping he hadn’t seen her reaction. She’d already known Colt was an attractive man, and she’d thought his clothes did little to disguise his athletic build. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

The man behind her was some sort of Greek god. T-shirts hadn’t hidden his broad shoulders and muscular chest, but they hadn’t held a clue about the rippled abs or the exquisitely defined back. Short of television, she’d never seen a more perfectly designed human, and she had no doubt that if the rest of the sheet were removed, his thighs and rear would be just as lovely.

She took another deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to regain control of her racing thoughts. This was no time to act like a love-struck schoolgirl. Hormones were a fine enough thing in the proper amount and place. This was neither.

“You hear anything while I showered?”

His voice sounded right behind her, and she chided herself for being so lost in thought that she hadn’t even heard him walk up.

“No,” she said and glanced over at him. “Nothing but normal things, anyway. Except…never mind.”

“Except what?”

“It’s just a stupid personal thing.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Now you have to tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she said as she looked down at the ravioli. “I guess it just seems that everything normal sounds kinda sinister, like Mother Nature is on high alert.”

She looked over and saw him staring at her, frowning.

“I’m not crazy,” she said.

He smiled. “I know you’re not, but what you’ve got is really good intuition. It’s a rare gift and a good one to have in law enforcement.”

“You’re saying you feel it too?”

He nodded. “It’s not as strong now as it was earlier, but I can still feel it—that niggling at the back of your neck that the threat is still out there.”

Jadyn grabbed a rag and removed the two cans from the stove and poured the contents into Styrofoam bowls. “Do you think we’re right?”

They grabbed the bowls and plastic forks and took a seat at kitchen table, both silent for a couple of minutes while they dug into their dinner.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think we’re right. When I first joined the police force and got feelings like this, I thought it was fear and inexperience that caused them. And every time I ignored the feeling, I came dangerously close to serious trouble, even death. That intuition is not something I ignore any longer, nor is it something I’m ashamed of, even when I’ve been called chicken by other officers for not walking into questionable situations.”