Defending Morgan (Mountain Mercenaries #3)(8)
It broke his heart.
And that Arrow didn’t understand.
He’d been on hundreds of rescues. Had seen hundreds of women and children in much worse shape than Morgan. Why should her situation make him more emotional than he’d ever been in the past? Why did the thought of someone abusing this woman make him want to burst out of his hiding spot and track down the men who had just been there talking about Morgan as if she were a piece of property and kill them all? That wasn’t his way. Hell, that wasn’t the Mountain Mercenary way. But he couldn’t deny the feeling was there.
He waited for another ten minutes before daring to speak, and when he did, his words were barely above a whisper. “I think they’re gone.”
She immediately nodded but didn’t speak.
“We can’t move yet. We need to wait until tonight.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Did you understand what they were saying?” He needed to be sure.
She shook her head.
“The bottom line is that they’re looking for you . . . for us. They’ve got all their friends on alert too. It’s too dangerous to walk around during the day. We’ll stick out like a sore thumb. We need to lie low until it’s dark.”
“Okay,” she said again.
Arrow frowned. He didn’t like her immediate compliance, even though it was pretty much what he needed from her and what he expected. Kidnapping victims generally had a hard time thinking for themselves. They were happy to put the responsibility for their safety on someone else. There were times Morgan acted stereotypically, but then she did something like pick up a piece of metal and jump into the fight back in the alley. It was his experience that, when given the chance, kidnapping victims would either run, trying to keep themselves safe, or they’d completely shut down, being absolutely no help when the shit hit the fan.
Morgan had done neither. He was a little surprised she was being so complacent now. Especially when he’d just told her they were being hunted.
As he struggled to come up with the words that would reassure her, a strange sound emanated from where she had tucked her head against him. Alarmed, Arrow pulled back—and looked down at Morgan in disbelief.
She was snoring.
She’d actually fallen asleep against him. The heat was oppressive, they could be caught by men who wanted to kill him and most certainly continue to abuse her in the worst ways, she had to be hungry and thirsty, and yet, she was asleep.
Arrow stared at her and tried to figure her out. Her blonde hair was streaked with dirt, looking almost brown instead of the bright yellow he knew it to be from photos that had been on television. She had bruises all over in various stages of healing, her lips were dry and cracked, and there was a funky smell wafting from her clothes . . . and he’d never been more impressed with a woman before in his life.
He shook his head in disbelief. Arrow couldn’t believe she was sleeping. In all the missions he’d been on, this had never happened. Not once. The women were always super hyped up. Aware of their surroundings and skittish. Not one had unwound enough to sleep, especially not before they were safe.
Arrow forced his muscles to loosen and listened to his surroundings. As the minutes passed, he cataloged each slight noise and dismissed them as sounds of the city waking up.
He had no idea how long he’d been lying there holding Morgan as she slept, but eventually the warm air and the woman curled into him did their thing . . . and he fell into a light sleep himself.
The next thing he knew, he was on his back, and the knife he always carried on his belt was against his throat. His eyes opened and looked into Morgan’s panicked, confused green gaze.
“It’s me,” he said in a calm whisper. “Arrow. You’re safe, Morgan. We got away last night.” He could’ve easily disarmed her, but he stayed completely still and willed her to remember who he was.
Comprehension came immediately, and she moved the knife away from his neck. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I woke up and didn’t know where I was.” She scooted away from him, but stayed on her side, watching him warily.
“It’s fine,” Arrow soothed. He didn’t tell her that she was only the second person to ever get the drop on him. He prided himself on always being aware, but obviously he’d dropped his guard a little too much while sleeping next to her. He filed that fact away for the future. “I can’t say that I’m all that thrilled to be here either.”
She frowned in question.
“I don’t like small spaces,” he told her, surprising himself, as he hadn’t admitted that to anyone in a long time. His team knew, but that was about it.
She didn’t immediately respond, but eventually took a deep breath and said, “Can’t say I blame you. I’m not too fond of them myself. But there’s a difference between being in a small space because I put myself there, and being shoved somewhere I don’t want to be.”
It was Arrow’s turn to frown. Was she talking about him making her crawl into this makeshift hidey-hole?
As if she could read his mind, she put a hand on his arm and said, “Not you and not here. Besides, this one is open on one side. Night and day, Arrow. Night and day.”
Swallowing hard and mentally reprimanding himself for jumping to conclusions while at the same time tamping down his anger at whoever had abused her, he asked, “How are you doing?” Shifting until he was sitting with his legs crossed in the small space, Arrow picked up the knife she’d dropped and returned it to the holster at his hip. He had to hunch over, but it felt good to sit.