Avenged (Altered #2)(4)

She stepped closer, edging into the light that seeped in from the corridor. She looked thinner, but it might be the shapeless jumpsuit she wore. Her hair hung around her face, and dark smudges marred the skin under her eyes.

He remembered she was pretty—strikingly so—but the force of her bright blue gaze caught him in the gut.

She crossed her arms over her chest and whispered, “Of all of them, Nick, you’re the last one I expected to come for me.”

He smiled and whispered back. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome.”





Chapter Two


Nick was here.

The sight of him unhinged her, left her chest tight and her heart racing. Someone she knew. In the beginning, it consumed her thoughts, hoping that someone would come. After awhile, she’d stopped hoping. It was too painful.

But he was here, in her doorway, as big and imposing as ever. After all this time.

Kitty touched her index finger to her lips, the universal sign to be silent. She motioned to the corner, where the camera was mounted. Nick nodded, the smile leaving his face. He closed the door. The only illumination that remained in the room trickled through the miniscule window at the top of the door.

She’d been honest. He wasn’t who she expected to come, if she’d expected anyone at all. Not that she was picky. She’d take whatever rescuer she could get.

In the dim light, he tapped the side of his head, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at her. He wanted her to listen to him. That made sense. Then at least one of them didn’t have to speak.

He shuffled backward into the corner, under the camera so they couldn’t see him, and he walked her through their escape.

We’ll climb through the ducts to get out of the building. I’ve memorized the ventilation layout. He glanced above her door, at the air vent. Damn. That one’s too small, though. We can’t get in that thing. It will have to be the vent opening in the janitor’s closet, then. The vent there was apparently bigger, but his thoughts told her he hated to risk her being out in the open on the way there. It’s the only option.

She nodded to let him know she understood.

Offhand, his focus turned to her and worry laced through him. She’s lost weight. She’s too thin.

At that, she lifted her chin, defiant. Three months ago, she might have shrunken from that assessment, back when her father’s disapproval of her appearance still rang in her ears. But not now. She’d survived. It hadn’t been pretty, but she’d survived. That was good enough.

And no shoes. Not good. How am I going to get her out of here with no shoes?

She wiggled her toes, took in the rest of her outfit. She wore an orange jumpsuit and a pair of dark blue socks with rubber treads on them, the kind her mom had worn at the hospital when she’d had her gall bladder removed. Nick couldn’t see them, but the ensemble also included a pair of standard-issue, size-too-large panties. No bra. Every two days, someone came and dropped off another sterile packet containing a clean version of the same outfit. She was allotted fifteen minutes to shower and change into it.

This wasn’t ideal escape attire. And no shoes would definitely be a detriment.

The bed. His gaze took in the only furniture in the room. It was a cot, not a real bed. When she arrived, she’d been given two flat sheets and a thin blanket to dress it. She’d used one as a fitted sheet, tucking it under her mattress, and she’d pulled the other over her. The blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

He ran through a whole range of tourniquets he could tie. Tourniquets? She might be thin, but she wasn’t hurt.

That might work. Decided, he yanked the sheet off the bed and, gripping the corner, ripped a strip along the edge. The sound startled her, even though she’d known what he would do. She’d become too accustomed to her own silence.

As he tore another strip, she watched the fascinating play of his forearm muscles, bare below his rolled sleeves. He must be in marvelous shape, if he could do something like that so easily.

When she glanced up, his eyebrows were high, the two strips of fabric in his hands.

He’d caught her staring. Thank goodness for the darkness. Maybe it hid her flush.

Obviously he would be in good shape. He was an elite Special Forces soldier. Men like him, they were fit, and fit men were good-looking. That was all.

Nick motioned for her to sit on the cot, and her face heated further. Having him see her bed, the place she’d slept for a month…it felt weird. More, it was him. He was so big, and he had such an air of authority about him. Add in the attractive part and… It made her uncomfortable.

Not that she found him attractive.

He wanted to wrap her feet. She shook her head. “Treads are better until we’re outside,” she whispered.

He nodded. True. He wound the strips into a ball and tucked them into his pocket. You ready, then?

Was he really asking? This place was her dungeon. She opened the door, but he gently pushed past her. He looked out, his mind full of protection. Then, he slipped through first.

That’s right. She rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten who he was. This was Nick, the one who wanted to save the day.

But though she desperately wanted to go, she hesitated at the doorway.

What was the matter with her? This room contained the worst month of her life. Yet, walking into the hall seemed more dangerous.

She shook her head. That was stupid. She couldn’t stay, didn’t want to stay. She forced herself to step forward, into the garish fluorescent light of the hallway. She blinked, disoriented by the sudden brightness.