Home > Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(6)

Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(6)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Abigail was short, but still had to move on her hands and knees inside the cage. It made carrying the flashlight hard, so she set it to the side, shining on the man she was approaching. She then crawled up to him and lifted the arm that lay across his chest to find the arm beneath it.

As she’d assumed, it was the one with the IV attached, although attached didn’t quite describe it. Duct tape was definitely what she’d heard when the client was in here. The man’s arm was wrapped in the gray stuff from just above his elbow, all the way down to his wrist.

Definitely overkill, she decided. And it was going to hurt like a bitch when it was taken off. Probably best to remove it all while he was unconscious, Abigail thought next. It might take a little time, but that would be the kindest route. Besides, they probably had the time. They couldn’t risk doing anything while they were in the air anyway. The last thing she wanted was a crash landing because Jet got hurt or shot in their attempt to overcome the clients.

Settling to sit cross-legged beside the unconscious man, Abigail pulled his arm forward as much as she could and set to work. It took a lot longer than she’d expected. The client must have used an entire roll of duct tape on the man. She seemed to spend forever just unwinding tape round and round his arm. A knife would have come in handy, and Abigail even stopped at one point and did a quick search of the cargo hold for one, but while she found the third flashlight, what she thought might be a parachute, and even a first aid kit, there hadn’t been a handy dandy knife anywhere.

She’d got excited when she’d found the first aid kit, thinking correctly that it might have a pair of those tiny scissors to cut gauze or something. But even as she’d found them she’d known they would be no help. The scissors were not only tiny, they were flimsy, fit only for cutting gauze. There was no way they would cut through the duct tape. Setting the first aid kit back, she’d returned to the cage to continue unraveling the duct tape from around the unconscious man’s arm.

Abigail worked steadily until she got down to the last layer. That was the one that was going to hurt. It was going to snatch the man’s arm bald and there wasn’t a darned thing she could do about it.

Going slow might save some of the hair, she supposed, and grasped the piece of tape up past his elbow to begin slowly pulling it off. Abigail watched the skin and hair cling to the tape and winced, glad the man was unconscious when the skin released but the hair didn’t and was torn out almost one strand at a time. The IV line stuck to the tape as well and pulled up a bit before she grasped it and pulled it free to lie against his arm again. Abigail had no desire to dislodge the IV before she finished this task. She doubted the man would wake right away once the IV was removed, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

She only realized that the IV line had already been dislodged when liquid began to drip out between the tape strips. Either the line had separated from the needle apparatus, or the needle had been pulled from his arm. Whatever the case, he was no longer receiving the drug. Wondering how long he would stay under now, Abigail began to work more quickly, then gasped in shock when his body suddenly uncoiled like a snake and he half sat up, his free hand suddenly at her throat and squeezing.

Releasing the tape she’d been trying to remove, Abigail grabbed for his hands, trying to pull them away so she could breathe again, but even half-baked from the drugs the man was incredibly strong. And he was definitely feeling the effects of the drug. Even as she struggled to free herself and find air, some part of her noted the dazed look in his beautiful black eyes . . . eyes that were presently focused on her face as if she were the only woman in the world. Which she was in that moment, Abigail supposed. Or at least in that cargo hold.

Just when Abigail thought she would pass out from lack of air, and probably follow that up by dying, the hold on her throat eased. In the next moment his hand fell away altogether and the man slumped weakly back against the bars of his cage. His body appeared at rest, but his eyes were alive and now focused on her like lasers.

Gasping in great gulps of air, Abigail eyed him warily and began to shift backward toward the cage door.

“Who are you?”

She stopped at that question. His voice was husky and so deep and gravelly it was like hearing the earth move. Breathing under control now, Abigail swallowed and whispered, “Abs.”

His eyebrows rose at that and he glanced down at his stomach and frowned. “What about them?”

Realizing he thought she was talking about his abs, she shook her head and smiled crookedly. “My name,” she explained and then babbled, “It’s really Abigail, but my friends call me Abs, or Abbey, but mostly Abs. At least Jethro does. I haven’t seen much of my friends lately. He’s the first one I’ve had the chance to meet up with since Mom died so I—”

“Who is this Jethro?”

Abigail blinked at the interruption. “He’s my friend,” she answered simply, glancing toward the door to the cockpit and suddenly worried that they might be heard. She couldn’t hear voices from the front though, so hoped that meant they couldn’t be heard from up there either.

“A boyfriend?” he asked, drawing her attention back again.

“Hell no,” she said, surprise making her response more emphatic. Wrinkling her nose, she added, “Ewww. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. He’s like a brother to me. I could never think of him like that. It would be—”

“You are with the kidnappers?”

Abigail’s eyebrows rose at the pained sound to the question. His expression matched it. He was obviously upset that she might be with the men who had put him in this cage, but then she couldn’t blame him. He must be furious to find himself in this situation. She supposed she was lucky he hadn’t choked her to death.

“No,” she assured him quickly. “I’m rescuing you.”

When one eyebrow rose dubiously on his forehead at that, Abigail scowled at him. “Well, I took the IV out, didn’t I? At least I was working on it,” she added with a grimace. “I was hoping to get the duct tape off before you woke so you wouldn’t have to suffer—”

The words died in her throat as he suddenly reached down and tore the rest of the duct tape off in one quick jerk. As she’d feared, it took most of the hair on his arm with it. It looked to her like it took a six-inch-wide layer of skin off all the way around his arm as well, and she winced as she noted the raw red flesh left behind. He, however, showed no sign that it caused him pain. He merely tossed the tape aside with distaste and then sat up a little straighter.

The action left him completely on display. Not just his wide, beautiful chest, but his groin was now on show too, she noted, and then realizing that she was gaping at his family jewels like a fish out of water, Abigail forced her eyes back to his face and distracted herself by looking at that. He was a handsome man. His nose was straight and sharp, his cheekbones high, his mouth full and almost too sensuous for a man, and his eyes were a deep, dark midnight black with little silver flecks that almost seemed to glow in the beam from the flashlight. He presently had a five-o’clock shadow and Abigail wasn’t much for facial hair, but even that was attractive on this man.

In truth, Abigail didn’t think she’d ever seen a man quite so beautiful as this one, not even in movies or magazines. The pretty blonde barmaid at the country bar where she’d met Jet earlier would have trampled her friend in an effort to get to this fellow, she was sure. It made her glad they weren’t at the bar.

“Where are we?”

Abigail watched his lips move as he asked the question and had the craziest urge to lick them. Damn, he was powerful pretty, she thought on a sigh. And she had been shut in for too damned long looking after her mother if just being in his presence made her want to jump the guy.

“Somewhere over the ocean would be my guess,” she said finally. “We’ve only been in the air about—” Abigail paused to glance down at her wristwatch and was surprised to see how much time had passed when she pressed the button to light it up and saw the time. They’d been in the air almost two hours. Had she been that slow at working on his arm? Good Lord, she thought, but said aloud, “Two hours. We have to be out of the States and over the ocean by now. Probably somewhere over or near Havana or Cancun depending on Jet’s flight pattern,” she added.

   
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