Operation: Midnight Guardian

Ignoring her, Cutter continued walking.

 

Evidently, Mattie Logan wasn’t the kind of woman to be ignored. Jogging to keep up with his long stride, she came up beside him and looked closely at him. “Cutter, you’re sweating.”

 

“Yeah, well, that happens when I walk ten damn miles.”

 

“It’s cold. You shouldn’t be sweating like that.” When he didn’t answer, she bit her lip. “How bad is that bullet wound?”

 

The graze in his arm where the bullet had nicked him hadn’t even crossed his mind. He was too busy thinking about the walls closing in. The lack of oxygen. The ceiling coming down to crush them both….

 

“I’m fine, damn it.”

 

“Cutter, you’re shaking. You can barely hold the flare.”

 

For the first time he noticed just how badly he was shaking. If he didn’t get a handle on the fear slithering through him, he was going to collapse into a heap on the floor like some kind of a blathering idiot.

 

“Let me—” She wrapped her hand around his arm as she reached for the flair. “Oh my God. You’re soaking wet and trembling.”

 

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Get away.”

 

“Let me help you.”

 

He shook off her hand. “I don’t need your damn help.”

 

“Look, I know you don’t trust me. Frankly, I’d rather go it alone, too. We don’t exactly have the same goal here. But for your information I’m not cold-blooded enough to leave you alone when you’re obviously injured.”

 

“I’m not injured.”

 

“You look like you’re ready to pass out.”

 

At that moment Cutter figured he’d rather do just that than lose it in front of a prisoner. Unfortunately, succumbing to unconsciousness wasn’t an option if he wanted to get through this. He was going to have to tough it out and hope the panic attack abated.

 

But the walls and ceiling continued to close in. He could feel the crushing pressure of a thousand tons of rock. The sensation of being trapped. Cold darkness descending. No oxygen to breathe.

 

Bending at the hip, Cutter put his hands on his knees and gulped air. He knew better than to turn his back on a prisoner, but he was in no condition to stop her if she decided to do something stupid…like run.

 

He could hear his breaths echoing off the rock walls. He was breathing too fast. Too shallowly. Still, he couldn’t seem to get enough into his lungs.

 

“Cutter…”

 

He started when she touched him. He knew that was the one thing he should not allow. But at that moment the small human contact, the warmth of her hand against his shoulder, was incredibly reassuring.

 

Closing his eyes tightly, he clung to that tiny connection. After a few minutes the fear loosened its death grip. The walls and ceiling of the cave stopped closing in. His breathing returned to normal. The sweat cooled on his skin. All the while he was keenly aware of the warmth of her hand against his shoulder.

 

“Better.” He straightened and turned to look at her. In the dim light of the flare he saw wide blue eyes and porcelain skin. Her hand fell away from his arm, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the absence of her touch. Against his will, his eyes went to her mouth, her full, pink mouth, and suddenly he remembered the kiss they’d shared. He acknowledged the fact that he wanted to do it again.

 

“I’m glad you’re all right,” she said. “For a second I thought you were going to pass out.”

 

“I’m fine,” he growled.

 

Two feet separated them. She was at least a foot shorter, and he had to look down to maintain eye contact. He could see the swell of her breasts. The fragile slant of her throat. In the dim light her skin looked almost translucent. The lemon and rosemary scent of her hair titillated his senses. He knew better than to want when it came to this woman, but he did. He wanted like he hadn’t wanted for a long time.

 

The flare chose that moment to burn out, plunging them into darkness. Cutter tossed the spent stick to the ground, not sure if he was relieved the strange moment had passed or disappointed because they were going to have to travel the rest of the way in total darkness.

 

“Do you have another flare?” she asked.

 

“Nope.”

 

“How are we going to find the other opening without light?”

 

Cutter struck a match. Relief flicked through him when the flame danced. “We follow the air.”

 

“There’s a breeze?”

 

“Faint, but definitely there.” He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn’t look at her. The situation demanded he either tie her belt to his or take her hand so they didn’t get separated. Considering the way he was reacting to her, he didn’t want to touch her. But since he was fresh out of rope he was going to have to take her hand. “Let’s go.”

 

He reached down to take her hand. She tried to tug away, but he tightened his grip. “We don’t want to get separated,” he explained.

 

“Oh.” She stopped trying to pull away.

 

Refusing to acknowledge just how good her hand felt in his, Cutter extinguished the match and they ventured deeper into the cave.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five