Page 7 of The Hero
Freedom was a powerful motivator.
Bob didn’t even feel bad that the plan to rescue Marlowe meant hundreds of other women would also escape. Many of them were no doubt also there under bogus charges, or the amount of drugs they’d been caught with didn’t warrant their punishment. America’s justice system wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nothing like it was here.
He’d waited outside the prison in the shadows, close to the area where he knew Marlowe’s sleeping quarters were located, watching as women ran for their lives. Holding his breath as he strained to catch a glimpse of his target. She was slight, had short black hair, and blended in fairly well with so many of the other prisoners.
Just when he’d thought she wasn’t going to take the chance to escape, he’d spotted her.
At first, she’d run along with the other women, and he’d had to circle around a block to avoid detection before trying to catch up with her.
But when he’d intersected the path of the women, she was no longer with them.
She’d peeled off at some point, and for a brief moment, Bob had panicked. He couldn’t lose her now.
By some miracle, he’d caught a glimpse of her as she was about to run around a corner, farther down the street. She’d looked back, as if to see if she was being followed, and the look on her face had etched itself onto his brain.
She was completely terrified.
He sprinted after her, and it still took a bit to catch up. He hadn’t wanted to add to her terror, but when he’d grabbed her, he’d done just that. To his surprise—and satisfaction—she didn’t simply give up. She fought against his hold. Hard. She’d managed to knee him viciously in the thigh. Thank goodness she wasn’t taller than she was, otherwise shecould’ve nailed him in the nuts. It wasn’t until he’d trapped her tightly in his embrace that he’d been able to speak and calm her down.
The relief, disbelief, and confusion was easy to read on her face, but he didn’t have time to reassure her much. To tell her the plan to get them out of there. They had to get to the next phase of the escape plan before dawn, which was little more than an hour away.
He hated that she wasn’t wearing shoes, but he couldn’t do anything about that right this second. She was quiet behind him, and Bob was glad. She had to have a million questions, but the fact that she was holding her tongue meant she trusted him at least a little bit.
And trust was essential during rescue missions like this one.
Bob squeezed her hand without thought, wanting to reassure her wordlessly that everything would be okay. Of course, he had no idea if that was true, but he’d do his part to get her back to her brother, or die trying.
They walked fast for ten more minutes until they reached their destination. Bob let out a sigh of relief as he walked around the dilapidated hut in one of the worst parts of the city. He slipped through a hole in a fence, then into a small shed behind the home. He didn’t know who lived there, and he didn’t need to.
He smiled as he saw what he’d hoped would be waiting for him behind the wooden door of the shed. A scooter. This was their ticket out of the city, and to the next step in their journey for the Cambodian border. A small bag sat next to the bike.
Bob let go of Marlowe’s hand—and was surprised at the pang of discontent that flashed through him when he was no longer touching her. She was a job. Nothing more, nothing less.
But even as he thought the words, Bob knew they were a lie.
Marlowe Kennedy wasn’t just another job. Seeing the complex emotions behind her eyes, the fear that couldn’t disguise her determination to get away ... he was drawn to this woman in a way that was unfamiliar.
Leaning over, he picked up the bag and peered inside, determined to keep things between them professional. Satisfied, he pulled out two of the items and turned to Marlowe.
“Shirt and leggings. Put them on. The authorities will be looking for women wearing that prison uniform.”
She nodded and reached for the clothes. Turning his attention back to the bag, Bob pulled out the last item. He looked up—and blinked in surprise.
Marlowe was standing next to him wearing nothing but a cheap, grungy-looking bra. She’d stripped off the prison top without a second thought. She frowned as she attempted to figure out where the armholes were in the shirt.
Bob tried to look away, he really did, but he couldn’t take his gaze from the sight before him. Marlowe’s ribs were clearly visible. She was so skinny, it almost hurt to look at her. He was right; she’d lost quite a bit of weight in the weeks that she’d been incarcerated. Too much.
She also had a dark bruise on her side, indicating she’d either bumped into something ... or someone abused her.
Before he could become too outraged at the thought, she got the material straightened out and pulled the dark-gray long-sleeve shirt over her head, hiding her body from him. Then, as if she didn’t have a drop of modesty, she shoved the dark-blue skirt over her hips and reached for the black leggings.
Bob swallowed hard. Despite needing to put on some weight, Marlowe was gorgeous. The woman was only five-four, yet her legs seemed to go on forever.
Shaking his head, he internally reprimanded himself. This wasn’t the time or place for him to have such inappropriate thoughts. The past month had been hell for the poor woman, and he was there to get her home in one piece. That was it.
But somehow, her stoicism piqued his interest all the more. He was used to the people he rescued being overwhelmed. Nervous. Angry. Helpless. Marlowe was ... practical. She hadn’t asked a hundredquestions. Hadn’t slowed him down. Hadn’t hesitated to put on the clothes. She’d simply done whatever he’d asked.
Irrationally, that acquiescence itself frustrated him. He could have led her to this dangerous area to violate her. Kill her. He could’ve led her straight back to the Thai authorities. He’d never do any of those things, but she didn’t know that.
