Page 74 of Soft Flannel Hank

“I can’t run forever, Hank,” she said. “I’m tired.”

Tears filled her vision suddenly, and she clamped her eyes shut to contain them, dropping her head to her hands.

She felt the bed dip under his heavy weight as he sat down. He gently pulled her hands away from her face and tipped her chin up to look at him.

“It won’t be forever, sweetheart. I promise. But they know you’re with me, and we don’t want to run into them when they come here. We’ve got to go. Now.”

She heard the thread of urgency in his voice and nodded. He nodded back and stood, turning to his closet and yanking an old canvas duffle bag off the top shelf. He began stuffing flannel shirts into it, ripping them off the hangers with such speed that the hangers flipped on the rod and banged into the shelf above them. Some of them clattered to the floor.

He turned and opened drawers, pulling out T-shirts and Henleys and thermals and socks and underwear and what looked like a pair of gray sweatpants and stuffing them all in the bag until it bulged. His boots were on, which Esther knew was a sign he meant business as much as anything, given how fastidious he was about removing them when he came into the house.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and held out his hand, which she took and allowed him to pull her upright off the bed. She was so close to him. Esther could hear their breathing mingle together and for a minute, thought he might pull her even closer. She wanted him to drop the duffle bag and haul her against his chest and kiss her senseless, like he’d done downstairs.

But he didn’t. He leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, inhaling deeply as his lips pressed against her hair. It wasn’t the frenzied passion of their other encounters, but the tenderness of it made her heart feel like it glowed white-hot in her chest.

She breathed in the scent of him. The sweat of his earlier work smelled stale now, but she found that she did not care at all as she felt his lips against her scalp.

“Come on,” he whispered. “We’ve got a cold walk.”

They put on their coats and hats, and Hank led her out the back door and around the house. The backyard smelled like fresh wood. He skirted out of the reach of the floodlight and unlatched the chain link gate at the back corner. He waited until she passed through before closing it behind them.

As he’d handed her layers to put on, he’d told her the plan. “We’re cutting through some backyards, about eight blocks worth. Jamie will pick us up at the end of Bluebell Street. Nat thinks Callum and his people are organizing. He’s pretty sure they won’t get to my house for a little while yet, but if they start chasing us, I want you to run like hell. Don’t look for me. Don’t stop. Just run as fast as you can to Jamie. He’ll get you to Magda.”

Officer Hank Dove was back, managing the situation with all of his words and confidence.

“And what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

She could sooner stop breathing than not worry about him. “Hank, I’m not going to let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

He’d attempted an easy smile, maybe the third smile she’d ever seen on his face, but he failed. “I’m not sacrificing myself. They’re not interested in me, remember? I’m just a diversion.”

“But they’re dangerous, Hank.”

He had narrowed his eyes and stared into hers, his heavy brows coming tightly together. “So am I,” he fairly growled. “When I need to be.”

“And do you need to be?” She was fishing. She knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“For you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen how dangerous I could be for you.”

And now they were in the dark, moonless night. Stalking around playgrounds and sheds, keeping out of sight as they skirted the fence lines of quiet houses. Through the windows, Esther saw people eating dinner as families. Watching tv. Playing games.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a woman lean over a man who had fallen asleep in a recliner with the TV on. She covered him with a blanket and kissed his cheek. Esther’s heart ached. If Hank saw it, he didn’t say. He just tugged on her arm, gently urging her along without stopping.

Finally, blessedly, Hank led them out onto a sleepy, dark street. An SUV sat at the dead end, facing out, and Hank headed for it. He opened the back door and helped her in, tossing their bags in after her.

“I was starting to worry about you guys,” Jamie said from the front seat.

Hank grunted as he climbed into the back with Esther.

“Buckle up,” Jamie said as he turned on the SUV and drove down the street with the lights off. He didn’t turn them on until he was pulling onto the main road.

Hank crossed his arm over the back of the seat and around her shoulders, pulling her tight against him. He didn’t say a word, like he’d used them all up earlier. But Esther preferred Hank to Officer Dove. She preferred his quiet to his more verbose professionalism, when he couldn’t help but let his face do the talking that his mouth couldn’t. After all, she’d been drawn to the shipwreck, not the merchant vessel in port.

Esther felt Magda’s wards slide over them as Jamie pulled into the driveway. They were subtle but powerful, and Esther felt herself relax. As she got out of the car, she heard Dick Van Dyke baying behind the door. Hank shouldered their bags and followed Jamie inside, waiting for Esther to go ahead of him.

A wall of heat struck Esther as she entered the house.