Chapter 8
Saved
Carter
“How many days did we spend in that bunker?”
Shelly made a face, looking both frustrated and angry and just plain sad.
“Three.”
“How did you find us?”
“We located Thorsen’s car and checked every CCTV in the vicinity. We discovered nothing, so we went door-to-door. Finally, we found someone who told us he saw "a man built like the Rocky Mountains running down the alley.”
I glanced at Thorsen, who was sitting in the ambulance across from me and staring at me. It felt weird being that far away from him. Unnatural. I suppressed the need to go over to him and just… sit down beside him. After the time we spent in that bunker, every sound around me and every flash of light was jarring. He was like a lighthouse in the stormy night, a safe place in the world that was, at the moment at least, too much for my heightened senses.
“Darling!”
When Vic threw herself in my arms, I closed my eyes, inhaling her scent. God, she felt good.
“I’m fine.”
She pulled away, frowning at the sight of the bandage wrapped around my head.
“Oh, my God, you poor thing.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “The doctor said it’s not infected. It just hurts a bit.”
After spending three days in that bunker with a half-open wound on my head, I considered myself lucky.
“I was so scared,” Vic breathed, wide-eyed. “Daddy called everyone who could help. He even alerted the governor…” She paused, pulling away from me and wrinkling her nose. “Sorry, darling, but you really stink.”
“It’s fine,” I said with an awkward smile. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes, anyway.”
“Whoever did this, he will pay. My daddy said—”
“Hey, man,” a low voice cut in, and stormy blue eyes found mine. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Bruce?”
Vic turned around, her eyes widening at the sight of Thorsen’s massive frame.
“Oh, you must be Carter’s partner,” she said with a smile. “I’m Vicky, his girlfriend.”
Thorsen smiled too, but it looked weird. He disliked her; I could tell. Why, though? Just because she was rich, or was it something else?
“A pleasure,” he said, raising her hand for a kiss. “Is Vicky short for Victoria?”
Vic giggled. “No, just Vicky. I like your accent.”
“Merci, chérie.”
I eyed his lips on her knuckles with a grimace.
“I’m Tye. Carter told me so much about you I feel as if I know you already.”
“I can’t say the same. Carter was mysterious when I asked him about you.”
“I’m right here, by the way,” I reminded them with a sigh.
Thorsen grinned. “I think he’s jealous, sweetheart.”
Yeah, that’s one endearment too many.
“Knock it off,” I said, standing between them. “You’ve had your fun, Thorsen. Now go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the station.”
“Not tomorrow,” a familiar voice behind us boomed, making us both flinch. “And not the day after tomorrow. You’re both on sick leave, starting right now.”
Damn it.
“When I said I want you two buffoons to stay close to each other, I didn’t mean it literally,” Chief Bibb exclaimed. “Spending three days underground without food or water is a bit drastic, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Chief,” I murmured, lowering my gaze.
“Yes, Chief,” Thorsen repeated, staring at his sneakers.
Chief Bibb raised his finger in warning. “You two almost gave me a heart attack, and my wife is mad at you. Really mad. Don’t bother me until next week, or I’ll give her both your phone numbers. Comprende?”
***
“Are you sure you’re okay, darling?”
“Yes,” I replied and kissed Vic’s forehead. “I promise. Don’t worry so much.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but no. I ate, I showered, and I took my antibiotic. I’m more than fine.”
“If you say so but please call me if you get worse.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
After Vic left, I breathed a sigh of relief, despite her being more than considerate. She didn’t ask me a bunch of questions like Shelly and Bruce did.
How was it down there? Awful.
What did you do? Prayed.
Did you think you would die? All the time.
How come you didn’t kill Thorsen? A stroke of luck.
When my phone rang, I picked it up, biting my lip when I saw the caller ID.
“Hey,” I answered, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Are you okay?”
The deep voice sounded different over the phone, and the accent thicker.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “You?”
“I’ll live.”
Thorsen sneezed before blowing his nose.
“Chief was pissed,” he said, his voice muffled. “As if it was our fault that we ended up in that bunker.”
“When isn’t he pissed?” I said when he sneezed again. “Are you sick, Thorsen?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, coughing. “How is Shelly? She seemed shaken up.”
“She’s fine. You don’t sound good, though. Where are you?”
“In a parking lot behind McDonald’s.”
I stood up, stifling the need to hit the nearest wall.
“What’s wrong with you, you imbecile?” I bellowed. “You’re sick and sleeping in your car? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
He chuckled. “You sound like my chief in New Mesa.”
“Come here before you get worse.”
“What for?” he said, sneezing again. “Just so you can yell at me in person?”
“I have a spare bedroom, you big ape.”
A moment of silence ensued.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” I mimicked.
“Just to be sure,” he said, sounding baffled. “Are you inviting me to spend the night at your place?”
“Why are you making it sound weird? What am I? An insensitive bastard? Of course, I’m inviting you. You’re sick. Why wouldn’t I invite you?”
Thorsen
Why wouldn’t he invite me? It was a legitimate question. But then again, why would he? He disliked me. He expressed it so many times, in so many ways. So why then?
The question still echoed in my mind when he opened his door, and my jaw dropped to the fucking ground.
Lord, have mercy.
“What?” Carter said with a frown.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, lowering my gaze. “I never saw you wearing something casual before.”
A black shirt and black pants were his uniform, so to speak, but when he opened the door dressed in grey sweats and a plain white T-shirt, my mouth dried. Why? Because the casual look made him sexier than all sins in the Bible, and the tattoo sleeve on his arm gave me a semi. A sleeve, for fuck’s sake? When my gaze slid down to the prominent bulge in his sweats, I stopped praying because now I knew for sure that God was a sadist.
“Please, come in,” Carter said, letting me pass. “You stink, by the way.”
“I asked to use your shower days ago,” I muttered, offended by his lack of sensibility. “You refused, remember?”
“Don’t sulk,” he said, closing the door behind me. “Do you have spare clothes?”
I raised my towel and a toothbrush instead of a reply.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you mine.”
“Will they fit?” I teased him.
Carter smiled sweetly. “My sweats might be too big for you in the groin area. It’s a common problem for men of your size.”
“Hilarious.”
“My T-shirt is another matter,” he added, eyeing my chest. “Your torso is bigger than the Great Wall of China.”
I grinned. “I’ll just walk around bare-chested then. You can ogle me all you want. I don’t mind.”
“I won’t, don’t worry. Just wash away the stench, and I’ll owe you one.”
“Give me a massage, and consider us even,” I offered, feeling hopeful. “Deal?”
He laughed. “Not going to happen. You know how to use soap, don’t you?”
“No. Will you show me?”
Carter
I didn’t know what possessed me to invite him. If I had to guess, I’d say temporary insanity, fever, or PTSD. Still, he risked his life by coming to my aid, and I owed him a lot more than a comfortable bed to sleep on. So, I decided to be a good host. I’ve already made the bed in the spare bedroom. I fixed him a sandwich, then I thought a soup would be more nourishing if he were ill, so I made him soup, too.
When the shower stopped running, I knocked on the bathroom door.
“Dinner is ready.” I informed him. “The soup is still hot.”
“You can come in.”
I pushed the door open and… oh my fucking God!
I turned my back to him so swiftly I almost dislocated my shoulder, but the image of his bare, firm ass was imprinted on my mind.
“Can you put some clothes on?” I growled, stumbling out of the bathroom with my hand covering my eyes. “What the fuck!”
Water droplets running down the massive back. No. Wet, dirty blond hair. No. Muscular, heavy thighs. Hell, no.
His chuckle followed me. “I didn’t peg you for a prude, Carter.”
“I didn’t peg you for an exhibitionist, asshole.”
When he finally came to the living room, I was relieved to see him wearing my sweats, but he didn’t bother with a T-shirt. His chest was massive and sprinkled with soft, blond hair that ran in a thin line down his washboard stomach. I tried not to stare, but… my God. He looked like a wrestler—of a disturbing size.
“I used your toothbrush,” Thorsen said, sliding his hand down his chest to swipe away the leftover water drops there. “Mine was dirty. I hope you don’t mind.”
I rubbed my forehead in frustration. Of course, he did.
“Vicky is cute, by the way,” he said, reaching for the photo of us from our vacation in Mallorca. “Not too photogenic, though, right?”
I snorted. “You don’t like her. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“You’re right,” he said, chuckling. “I don’t like her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s cute.”
“Why don’t you like her?”
He sneezed before replying. “Dunno.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to say it.”
“She seems insincere, is all.”
I pulled a T-shirt out of a drawer and threw it at him because I refused to stare at his chest a moment longer. “Why?”
“Probably because she doesn’t know the real you.”
“And you do? Since you met me… what? A few weeks ago?”
He shrugged, picking up another photo.
“Time doesn’t matter. And you can stop acting as if I’m a stranger, Carter. We went through some tough shit, you know? It brought us together, despite you hating my guts. Deal with it.”
I pointed a finger at him. “First, that’s not what I’m doing. Second, why do you keep provoking me? Third, put on that goddamn T-shirt.”
He finally did what I said, sneezing while at it.
“Thanks for taking me in,” he mumbled, blowing his nose after I handed him a tissue. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, resting my hands on my hips. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat. Just no burgers and fries, please. I had too many of those at McDonald’s.”
“What did the doctor say to you?” I asked him as he sat at the table.
“No concussion, no major damage. A bump on the head, dehydration, blah, blah. I’ll live. You?”
I served him soup and sat across from him.
“Same. Doc removed the bandage and replaced it with a Band-Aid. I don’t have an infection, but I have to change the Band-Aid regularly.”
“I’ll help you,” Thorsen said, looking around. “I like your place, by the way.”
I followed his gaze around the open space that was a living room, dining room, and kitchen all-in-one. “Thanks. Vic thinks it’s too small.”
“I bet,” he said with a chuckle, taking a spoonful of soup. “By the way, this soup tastes delicious, man.”
“You sound hoarse. Does your throat hurt?”
He looked at me, and the sudden intensity in the blue irises made me tense up. It reminded me of the bunker when he watched me in the darkness, thinking that I was asleep, while I was drowning in the ocean his eyes conjured up for me. Or how he used to make silly jokes to make us forget that we would probably die in that stinking pit. Or how he sometimes hooked his pinkie around mine as we lay next to each other because we needed it down there. What was I saying again? He had the uncanny ability to make me lose my train of thought. And why was he still looking at me funny?
Yeah, enough small talk for today.
“Anyway,” I murmured, clearing my throat and standing up. “Your room is down the hall to the right. Do you need anything else?”
My cheeks felt warm. Maybe I was getting sick too.
“No, thanks,” he said, his eyes never leaving me. “And thanks for letting me crash at your place. I appreciate it.”
“Erm… yeah. No problem.”
“I’ll take care of the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Night.”