Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(32)

“Do you know how you got here?”

Memories of her imprisonment and flight assaulted her, a fast-forward barrage of terrifying sensations and images. Fear closed her throat, and she could only nod in response.

Reed scooped a shirt off the floor and tugged it over his head, but not before Jayne got a brief glimpse of a rock-hard six-pack. Accepting a drink of water with two trembling hands, she raised it to her chapped lips. The lukewarm fluid felt like liquid silk in her throat as she swallowed. She drained the glass and turned to the fleece pullover and sweatpants Reed set on the floor next to her.

“These are Scott’s. They should fit well enough. Why don’t you get dressed? Then we’ll see what you remember.” He started to turn his back.

Memories she had no interest in dredging up swamped her, intertwining with flashbacks from her past. Jayne’s forefinger traced her scar twice before she jerked her hand down and clasped it tightly with her other one. Enough of that bad habit. Time to get a grip. She’d survived a horrific attack—again. There was no reason for self-pity.

“Are you OK?” Reed caught the movement and squatted in front of her.

“Yeah. Fine.” But Jayne sat up too quickly and wavered. Her sore muscles were stiff and clumsy, her limbs rag-dollish with weakness.

“Easy does it. Here, I’ll help you.” He dropped one knee to the floor and supported her shoulders, then helped her draw the soft fabric over her head and torso. She reached for a pair of white crew socks and fumbled. Her injured fingers refused to cooperate. A fresh wave of chilling memories washed over her. Without Reed’s body to keep the cold at bay, she shivered. The dampness of the basement was imprinted in her bones. She wouldn’t feel warm right now if she were on a tropical beach. She might never be warm again.

“Let me get that.”

The touch of Reed’s warm hands on her skin brought Jayne back into the present as he stretched a thick sock over her toes. His fingers brushed her bare arch. In one fluid motion, Reed scooped her from the floor and set her gently on the couch. His lean physique was deceptively strong. Jayne’s hand lingered on a heavily muscled shoulder as if she could soak up his strength as well as his warmth. He ducked away to whisk the sleeping bag from the floor and tuck it around her like a blanket.

A door banged, and Jayne jumped. A minute later, a tall, gangly teen walked into the room. “Got the generator going.”

“Great. We’ll have food, heat, and hot water.” Reed gestured toward the youth. “Jayne, this is my son, Scott. Scott, this is Jayne.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. The green eyes and dark mop of hair matched his father’s, but his smile was easy and outgoing, compared to Reed’s more reserved expressions. The teen’s face was ruddy and his hair damp as he spread his hands to the woodstove. “Feel OK?”

“Yeah. I’m good, thanks.”

“Scott, please make Jayne a bowl of soup and a cup of tea, extra sugar. She needs calories and heat.”

“OK.” Scott disappeared through a doorway.

After the teen exited, Reed drew a yellow legal pad from the end table. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Some.” A clock on the wall to Jayne’s left read six o’clock. Darkness pressed on the windows. If it was evening, she’d been held for over twenty-four hours. Unless she’d been unconscious for more than one night. “What day is it?”

“Friday.” Reed followed her gaze to the window, then crossed the room to open the wooden blinds. The yard was dark but not pitch-black. The view was obstructed by a thick, shifting curtain of snowflakes. Trees across the yard waved in a sudden gust of wind. White dust blew from their limbs. Tiny ice pellets tapped a faint tattoo on the glass, as if the storm were trying to get in.

Definitely evening. She’d only been held one day. Just over twenty-four hours. Seemed like much longer. Jayne crossed her arms and rubbed her biceps.

“It’s OK. You’re safe. I doubt anyone’s moving around out there.”

He was right. The chances that her captor could’ve tracked her here in this storm were slim. With that revelation, the brutal weather morphed from enemy to dear friend.

Reed left the blinds open as if he knew she needed a reminder of the insulation afforded her by the blizzard. He sat down on an ottoman next to her and clicked open a pen. “What did you do after you left the bookstore?”

Jayne took a deep breath. “I headed back to the inn. I got as far as the walkway out front. Then…Nothing. I don’t remember anything until I woke up this morning. The whole night’s a blank. I’m pretty sure he drugged me.”

Jayne gave him a brief rundown of her imprisonment and escape.

He set aside the tablet and perched on the edge of the sofa next to her, sliding his fingertips through the still-damp hair over her scalp. The effect was hypnotizing until he pressed behind her ear. She flinched as pain bounced through her head. He parted her hair and held the lantern closer for a better look. Jayne’s nose picked up the scent of a musky aftershave layered over wood smoke.

“You’ve got a nice goose egg back here, but the skin’s not broken. Does it hurt?”

“A little, but not as much as when I first woke up this morning.”

“Considering how cold you are, I think we’ll skip an ice pack. Tell me more. Do you have any idea how far you ran before we picked you up?”