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“What?” I had to get him out of my face. “Do you think you could lie on the floor, because I... I don’t have a chair.” And I needed to lie down fast before I fell over.
“What did he do to you? Just now? Did he do something?”
I felt the heat as my face reddened then cold rushed in and prickled down my body. I swayed. “He, umm, hit me, yes.” I hurried on. If I fainted, I’d never forgive myself. It seemed ridiculous to be embarrassed before Pieter, but I couldn’t help it. “It was nothing.”
Go fucking lie down.
That assessing stare of his was going to wear out the room atmosphere.
“You poepol,” he muttered and he walked toward me.
“What does that mean? What are you doing?”
“Means idiot.” Then he opened his arms and slowly, while watching me, as if to see if I was going to punch him or something, he half-closed his arms around me, stopping just short of touching.
I froze. The scent of this man so near...he smelled good. Warm. Intense. It signaled humanity to me.
I should not trust him. He’d been with them, worked for them. I hadn’t even liked touching my assorted boyfriends, some days. Touching wound me up like a spring.
My eyes, traitorous things, watered and I felt more tears well and trickle down my cheeks. I sniffed. Fuck him.
“Come. You need this, bokkie.”
“Bokkie?” I wiped at the tears. Another stupid foreign word.
“Little doe,” he whispered. “It’s an endearment in Afrikaans. “Please. You’ll make me happy too. I need a hug.”
“Little doe?” I giggled. “You need a hug?”
I frown-cried. More fucking tears.
I hung my head and wiped my palms up my face, speaking past my fingers. “This is all so stupid.”
I shouldn’t. It’d give him the wrong idea, that I liked touching.
But I took a small, shuffling step and I fell into his embrace. Without saying another word, he delicately closed his arms on me, as if I might break. I slipped my own around his broad back and I sobbed for ages, wetting his shirt. He rubbed between my shoulders. High enough, I realized, to miss where Gregor had hurt me. He remembered. And he was right. I needed this. Needed someone to hug.
If he was faking all this caring shit, he was doing it so bloody well.
Chapter 6
When she was done with most of the crying, and her legs seemed ready to give way, I picked Jazmine up to put her on the bed. Her small protests, I ignored.
“I’m not a child.” She wriggled as I lowered her then she glared up at me.
“Shush.” I put a finger to my lips. “You know you need to do this. I bet you got no sleep last night. Hmm?” I looked about, shrugged. “And like you said, no chair.”
Her laugh was dismissive. She propped herself up on her elbow. “It feels wrong lying down when you’re...” She nodded at where I stood.
“Ja. Well there’s only the bed.” I thought about joining her. I was tired too.
Despite my comment about this being a walk in the park for me, it wasn’t. I’d slept very little. I’d never had a woman in this sort of traumatic situation to worry about before. Never been a prisoner. I was used to acting, to fixing things by violence or by negotiation. The more things got planned ahead, the better too, with multiple contingency plans for when things went wrong.
I had a ton of kak to dig up before I could plan ahead here. For starters, why her? Was there a rhyme or reason for this? Or was it random?
I could check out the room first? Her big, frightened eyes decided me. Seeing those did odd things to my insides. No matter how confident she was acting, that hug hadn’t been enough. I wanted to be her knight in shining armor and stick myself between her and anyone who might harm her. Fucked if I knew how I was to do that.
If I could’ve flattened Gregor and his men, I would’ve.
