Home > Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(14)

Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(14)
Author: Lynsay Sands

“I was in the cargo area because the clients didn’t want me on the flight at all,” she said quietly when Tomasso dropped onto the sand beside her. “Jet had me hide in the cargo area so they wouldn’t know I was going despite their wishes.”

“You were a stowaway,” Tomasso murmured as if that was what he’d thought all along.

“Not really,” she argued. “Jet was the pilot and knew I was there.”

“But Jake and Sully did not,” he pointed out.

Abigail shrugged. Stowaway, shmowaway. She didn’t care. What she did care about was Jet and that he was okay. Picking up a shell half buried in the sand, she tossed it out into the water and asked, “What will they do to him?”

Tomasso was silent for a minute, and then shook his head. “He will probably be fine.”

It didn’t sound to her as if he really believed that and Abigail frowned and said, “He’s one of the good guys, Tomasso. I’d feel awful if anything happened to him because I left the plane with you.”

“I did not give you much choice,” Tomasso muttered, his gaze on the horizon. Shaking his head, he added, “I should have found out all the particulars before donning that parachute and taking you off the plane. I just assumed you were a stowaway and . . .” He shrugged, not bothering to finish.

Abigail’s mouth twisted unhappily. “You know what they say about assuming, right?”

“That it is foolish,” he said soberly.

“Yeah, that too,” she said wearily.

“Come,” Tomasso said abruptly, gathering her clothes for her and getting to his feet. Catching her hand, he then helped her up as he said, “The fish will be done. We will eat, then start walking.”

“At night?” she asked with alarm.

“It is better at night,” he assured her, starting up the beach. “No sun.”

Abigail considered that as they walked and supposed it was good to avoid the heat and sun of daylight. It would prevent their getting too dehydrated, which had to be good. And she had just woken up from sleeping, so should be good for walking. Still, Abigail didn’t think Tomasso had slept at all while she was down for the count. The man had caught fish and cooked it instead.

They probably wouldn’t walk far then, Abigail thought hopefully. An hour or two, and then they’d probably stop . . . Not that she didn’t want to walk all the way to civilization tonight. She did. The sooner they found a phone, the sooner she could find out what had happened to Jet. It was just that she hadn’t done anything physical in a long time and wasn’t sure she could manage much more than a couple hours of slogging through the sand. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t have to though. Tomasso would need sleep. An hour or so and he’d no doubt be ready to bed down.

Five

“Sure, sure, an hour or so and he’d be ready to stop,” Abigail muttered to herself, glazed eyes fixed on her feet in the darkness. The coconut water had been surprisingly yummy, refreshing even despite being warm, and the fish had been delicious. Then they’d started walking, and by her guess, had been doing so for four or five hours now. Abigail was ready to drop. The only thing that kept her moving was her worry about Jet and the fact that Tomasso, who hadn’t slept, was still going.

“What?”

That question made Abigail glance up to see that Tomasso had stopped again to wait for her. Like Jet, he had much longer legs than her and she couldn’t possibly keep up. Every time he stopped to wait for her, they started out together again once she reached him, only for her to drop back a bit with every step. Raising her eyebrows at his questioning expression, she asked tiredly, “What what?”

“You spoke,” he pointed out.

You spoke, she thought. Not you said something, just you spoke. The man always used the minimum amount of words to express himself, she thought wearily and waved away his comment. “I was just talking to myself.”

Tomasso didn’t turn away and continue walking then as she expected, but eyed her with concern. “You are exhausted.”

“We’ve been walking for hours, Tomasso. Of course I’m exhausted.”

She saw his eyebrows rise in the darkness. Thank goodness for moonlight, she thought, and then blinked at him when he shook his head and said, “One.”

“One what?” she asked, hoping he meant they’d only walk for another hour, although even that seemed way too long for her at that point. She really was dead on her feet.

“We have been walking one hour,” he explained.

“No way!” Abigail raised her watch to press the button to light the face. She’d thought it was still working when she’d checked it earlier, but when she saw that, according to it, he was right and only an hour and a couple of minutes had passed since they’d set out, she tapped it with irritation and muttered, “It must not be working. I’m sure we’ve been walking forever.”

She glanced to Tomasso then, expecting to see impatience or irritation. Instead what she found was a combination of what she thought might be amusement, sympathy, and affection.

Rather than chastise her for slowing him down, he said, “You have been through a lot. You are exhausted. We will rest.”

Abigail sagged with relief. She was exhausted, and was happy to blame it on everything they’d been through instead of being out of shape. She was less happy to rest, however. At least her conscience was. Her body was ecstatic at the thought, but her conscience was oozing guilt at the delay in finding civilization and getting help for Jet.

If he needed it, the exhausted part of her commented to ease her guilt. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Jet was fine and she was worrying for nothing.

Or, her conscience countered, maybe Jet was even now being transported to that island the client had mentioned. The island where “the doc” would perform experiments so horrid the client had claimed he’d rather be dead.

Abigail knew there was also a chance Jet might be dead. The client had mentioned that option, but she simply couldn’t face that possibility. She couldn’t lose Jet on the heels of the loss of her mother. She just couldn’t.

“One hour,” she said firmly, moving the last few steps to Tomasso. “We’ll rest for an hour and then start walking again.”

Tomasso grunted what might have been an agreement, and took her arm to urge her into the line of palm trees. He led her to one a good twelve feet into the jungle, brushed away the detritus on the sand beneath it to clear a spot for them, then urged her to sit. Settling next to her, Tomasso leaned back against the tree, and then slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her to rest against his chest.

Abigail didn’t resist his actions, but she didn’t relax either. It was impossible to relax in his arms. It just felt too good being there and she was too aware of the feel of his naked skin under her cheek and hand . . . and his scent. Tomasso smelled good. There was no cologne or perfumed shampoo to cover his natural aroma, but he still smelled lovely. Like wind and sea and sun. His skin was also a little cooler than her own where her hand and face rested . . . and as she’d suspected, his leafy loincloth hid everything from this angle, she noted with a little disappointment.

“You are not sleeping.”

Abigail grimaced at the comment and then pulled back as much as his arm would allow to peer up at his face. “How did you end up in that cage?”

It was something she had wondered about as she’d worked on removing his duct tape, but with everything going on she’d never really got the chance to ask until now.

Tomasso tugged her back to his chest, holding her head against his shoulder with one hand, but then said, “My brother and I were shot with drugged darts as we left a bar in San Antonio, and woke up some time later naked in cages.”

“They have your brother too?” Abigail jerked out of his arms to peer at him with dismay.

“They did,” he said, and pressed her to his chest again. “He escaped.”

“What?” Abigail asked with outrage, immediately upright again. “He escaped and just left you there? Your own brother?”

Tomasso didn’t bother to force her back to his chest this time, but merely explained patiently, “He had to. Else he would have been recaptured and caged up again. One of us had to get free and contact . . . our people.”

   
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