Page 58 of Rescuing You

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“This is not your fault.” This had been Splat’s idea. And what kind of name was that? Resentment toward the man rose inside her, but she squashed it. He was trying to keep them alive and out of Baba’s hands. If this was the only way, then she could do it. She had to do it.

At least she was able to stretch a little. Jasmine couldn’t even do that. And Michael was hardly better off.

So she wouldn’t complain. She could do this.

But when the box moved, she squeaked, bumping the wood beside her.

“Keep it down, bro,” Splat said. “You don’t want the lady to think you’re scared.”

“Haha.” Michael’s voice was flat.

“Seriously. Omar thinks this is about transporting illegal goods—not people—so you’re gonna have to be quiet.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “Probably could’ve passed that off as a mouse, though.”

Leila determined that she wouldn’t make another noise. She braced her hands against the wood on either side of her.

Again, the box tilted, surprising her. Her hand slipped, and her shoulder rammed into the side.

Again, it settled in its spot. “Brace yourselves.” Splat sounded annoyed.

“I’m trying,” she snapped.

His voice was more patient when he asked, “Can you sit, Michael?”

“Sure. I’ll just pull up a chair in here, flip on the TV.” He lowered his voice. “Come here, sweetheart. I’ll hold you steady.”

Sweetheart.

Everything felt so off, so wrong. Was she still his sweetheart? Did he want her to be?

With all that was going on, did it even matter?

He’d kissed her last night. Kissed her again just a few minutes earlier. And he was here.

So maybe this rescue attempt wouldn’t ruin what they’d built. Assuming they survived it.

He inched his feet forward, stretching out his legs on either side of hers until he could rest his back and head against the plywood. That had to be more comfortable than standing straight and bending over. “I think if I just wedge my feet against the pack…”

He did and then tugged her gently toward him, pulling her to his chest with one arm and bracing himself against the wood with his other hand.

Taking his cue, she pushed her hands against the sides of the box.

“You okay?” He mumbled the words in her ear. Despite the cramped quarters, the strangeness of the situation, the danger all around, his warm breath sent tingles over her skin. “Do you feel steady?”

Not even close. But he meant physically, so… “I think this will work.”

“If you’re ready…?”

At her nod, Michael spoke louder. “Try it now, Splat.”

The box tilted.

With Michael holding her tight, his legs bracing her hips, she was able to keep from bumping the side. This time, rather than being set upright again, they stayed angled as Splat rolled them around on the dolly.

Then stood them back up.

“Good job.” Splat must’ve moved away from their crate because his next words, likely spoken to Jasmine, were barely audible. A few moments later, he called, “Getting my buddy. Be quiet, and be prepared to move.”