Page 38 of Risk It All
“You’ll probably find other things in there.” He nodded toward a dresser but didn’t exactly look at it, an unusual awkwardness in his stance that tipped her off to why he was acting so strangely.
Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not stealing someone’s used underwear,” she said resolutely. “That’s a line I’m not crossing.”
He muttered something that Cara interpreted as “Suit yourself, but please stop talking about underwear.” Striding toward the spiral stairs, he said more audibly, “Soup’s likely hot.”
She hesitated by the closet, tempted by the idea of warm, dry, clean clothes that weren’t the pajamas she’d been wearing since being kidnapped the night before. Maybe she could squeeze a shower in before eating?
“Come eat. Water heater needs to fill first,” Kavenski called from the bottom of the stairs as though he could read her mind. Her stomach grumbled agreement, so she reluctantly left the strangers’ clothes and jogged down the stairs.
This is great, her internal voice said sarcastically.Now the owners will find you in their house, in their bed, and in their clothes.
“Hush,” she muttered, and hurried to rescue the soup before it boiled over. “It’s not like we could ask them first.” Still, guilt nibbled at her. Staying at the cabin with Kavenski felt almost too comfortable. It made her feel like they weren’t in the middle of a desperate situation. She needed to remember that indoor plumbing or not, they weren’t safe yet.
As she descended the stairs, the wind roared down the woodstove flue, creating an eerie whistle. Cara shivered and glanced at the covered window. Despite the cozy cabin and Kavenski’s reassuring presence, deadly danger still lurked outside.
Chapter 12
The soup tasted heavenly, but the hot shower had been even better. Cara’s borrowed clothes—yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt—were slightly long and a tad snug around her chest and bum, but it still felt wonderful to change. Even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since stupid Stuart had shown up on her front porch, it felt like months had passed since she’d felt safe. She could almost smell terror on her clothes, as if her fear had worked itself into the very fibers of the fabric.
The cabin owners either had to be forgetful packers or have lots of friends visiting, because there were plenty of sample-size toiletries and toothbrushes in their unopened packaging. Cara had even discovered a comb and a package of disposable razors. Afraid that the blow-dryer would push the limits of the solar batteries, she towel-dried her hair and then combed it out, leaving the strands lying damply over her shoulders.
She walked out of the bathroom, the dry heat of the woodstove feeling harsh after the warm steam from her shower. Her skin felt instantly tight, so she got a glass of water from the kitchen and chugged it. Her head already hurt from hitting it against the car window. She didn’t need a dehydration headache making things worse.
“What are you doing?” she asked curiously as she joined Kavenski by the fire. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, hunched over as if he was examining something on the coffee table. For just a moment, she contemplated sitting on the couch with him, but then her practical side won out, and she headed for the chair instead. As she curled up with her bare feet tucked underneath her, she eyed what looked like two handheld radios sitting on the table in front of him. Her heart gave a swift beat of excitement. “Radios?”
He sat back, his legs sprawled wide. “Walkie-talkies,” he corrected. “No batteries.”
“None?” She wasn’t sure what the difference was between walkie-talkies and radios, except that the first was sold as a toy and the other was used by first responders.Range, maybe?It didn’t really matter if there was no way to power them.
“None. I checked the whole cabin except the bathroom.” He glanced over at her.
Interpreting his silent question, she shook her head. “Nothing battery-operated that I found.” Stupidly enough, her cheeks warmed at the words, and she was annoyed at her reaction.Battery-operatedjust sounded so suggestive. Not wanting him to guess why she was flustered, she hurried to keep talking. “There’s a blow-dryer, but I didn’t find anything else that needed powering up. All the toothbrushes are the manual kind. What about flashlights or smoke detectors?”
“Wrong sizes.” His wide shoulders twitched in a shrug. “Doubt they’d have the range to communicate with anyone useful anyway.”
Even so, it was frustrating to have a communication device that they couldn’t use. “What about a satellite phone?” After he shook his head, she suggested without much hope, “Internet?”
“No.”
Making a sound of disappointment, she settled a little deeper in her chair. “I suppose I should be happy that there are walls and food and a fire. Oh, and a bed.”For Pete’s sake, why do I keep bringing up that bed?
He didn’t react except for a grunt she took as agreement.
“What time is it?” She looked around for a clock but didn’t see one, not even on the stove. She felt a ping of longing for her home, with its multiple clocks and phones and internet—not to mention the sisters, Warrant, and her own bed.
“Around seven.”
Now that she had eaten and showered, she expected to be exhausted, but instead she was wired. The expansive windows made her feel like a tropical fish in an illuminated tank. Despite Kavenski’s assurances that Abbott’s guys weren’t outdoor people, she still felt exposed. Unable to sit still without the distraction of conversation, she popped up and walked over to the bookshelf.
“Ugh,” she muttered after skimming over the titles on the spines.
Kavenski gave a huff that sounded suspiciously close to laughter, and Cara remembered that he’d checked out the books earlier.
“Do you think they actually read these, or are they just for show?” She pulled one out and flipped it open. The book was pristine, its sober navy-and-burgundy cloth cover spotless enough to have fit in any bookstore. The spine even gave a soft creak, as if it had never been opened before.
“Show,” Kavenski answered with absolutely no hesitation.
“Yeah.” Closing the volume, she slid it back between its equally untouched-looking brethren. “I can’t imagine anyone reading these forfun.”
