Page 46 of The Hero
Finally, he quietly mumbled, “I hate dreaming.Hateit.”
“It’s why you don’t let yourself sleep much, right?” she asked.
Kendric nodded. “Ever since I was a captive, I’ve had nightmares. I’ve talked to psychologists and therapists and even a few sleep specialists. They all say the same thing. That they’ll eventually fade away. But it’s been years, and they’re still just as vivid as they were right after we were rescued.”
“It’s because you care so much,” she said firmly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried about your friends.”
“I never remember much about the dreams. Just that I’m frantic and trying to get to my friends and can’t,” he admitted. His eyes opened and looked up at her. “I’ve never come out of them as fast as I did just now, though. Usually it takes me hours to feel like myself again. But with you here ... touching me ... it helps.”
It felt good to know she could help him at least a little. “Good.”
They lay there for a few minutes before Kendric sighed. “We need to get up. I don’t want the farmer seeing your butt.”
Marlowe giggled. “Well, I don’t want him seeing yours either,” she countered.
“Don’t think it’s my butt he’d be interested in,” Kendric told her with a smirk.
“You never know. It’s a damn fine butt,” Marlowe protested.
“How do you know? You didn’t see it last night. You were too busy admiring my cock, and sitting on it.”
Marlowe felt herself blushing. “Whatever.”
He laughed. Loudly. “God, you’re adorable. Take the towels and clean up with the hose. I’ll make do with the sheet, and we’ll be on our way. I’ll talk to the farmer about shoes for you, and we’ll stop at the first shop we find and get you some clothes.”
“You’re too good to me,” she blurted.
“No such thing,” he returned. Then pulled her down and kissed her gently. “Thank you for last night. You gave me a gift I’ll cherish forever.”
“I didn’t give you anything,” Marlowe protested.
“You gave meyou,” he said. He stood with her in his arms, set her on her feet, and handed her the towels that had been pushed to the side the night before. “Go on before the farmer gets here.”
She nodded and wrapped one of the towels around her body before turning to head out of the stall. She looked back once and saw Kendric’s gaze was still glued to her. He hadn’t moved to get dressed. In the soft predawn light peeping through the slats in the barn, she admired his form right back. He was so muscular, looked as strong as the trees he talked about cutting up back home in Maine. It was hard to believe she’d spent the night with him. That he wanted her. But it was obvious by his growing erection that he definitely hadn’t been with her out of pity.
She gave him a small smile and left the barn, heading for the outdoor spigot. As much as she wanted to go right back to bed with Kendric, she felt grubby, and they really did need to get going. Being this close to the border made her nervous. As if someone would burst in at any moment and drag her back to prison. The sooner they made their way south to the airport, the better she’d feel.
Chapter Nine
Four days later, Bob knew he was in big trouble. His wounds hadn’t gotten any better with time. In fact, they were infected, and any kind of touch to his back sent radiating waves of pain throughout his body. He wasn’t eating, because he couldn’t keep anything down, and was getting weaker and weaker by the day.
At first, he’d tried to keep his pain a secret from Marlowe, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew immediately that something was wrong. It wasn’t until two days ago that he’d had to admit what was wrong, when she’d wrapped her arm around him after he’d stumbled as they were walking—then jerked away from her and couldn’t stop the moan of pain from leaving his mouth.
She’d insisted on lifting his shirt and taking a look at his wounds, and her horrified inhalation told Bob all he needed to know. She’d wanted to find a doctor, but he’d refused. He needed to get her home. He’d lived through infections before, lived through beatings and torture, and come out of both just fine. He could muddle through until he was back in the States.
But in the last twelve hours, Bob knew he wasn’t going to make it home.
Every step was torture. Every movement felt as if he was right back in that cell overseas and his captors were slicing their knives deep into his skin.
He’d managed to get him and Marlowe to the small room in the back of a shop near the airport, the last place Willis had arranged for them. Then he’d fallen to the floor ... and hadn’t been able to get up again.
Marlowe had been amazingly strong over the last few days, encouraging him, doing her best to clean the wounds on his back with what she could find, but the infection raging through his body had won.
“Kendric?” she cried frantically as he lay face down on the floor.
“I’m okay,” he mumbled, knowing he was lying through his teeth. “Just gotta sleep an hour or so. Then I’ll call Willis and we’ll go.”
“All right. You sleep. I’ll be right here,” she told him.
