Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Thirteen

Angel

Time was ticking by slowly,almost impossibly slowly, but at least I was alone.

I hadn’t tested the door of six, which appeared to be some kind of guest cabin quarters, to see if it was locked, but it didn’t matter.

Was I going to do? Run off into the woods?

If it came to that, yes, but that was a last-ditch effort. For now, I would be calm, be smart. And in this case, being smart meant being patient.

So I sat in one of the chairs and waited. Was both relieved and terrified at the sound of the door creaking open. I stood, though couldn’t say why, as I watched Crowe walk in.

He’d changed, wore fatigues and a T-shirt like the others, but was still barefoot.

“They don’t have any boots that fit,” he said.

I must have been obvious in my staring, so I looked up quickly, admiring the way the T-shirt clung to his shoulders.

Still, I think I preferred the prison uniform to this outfit, if only because I knew who it had come from.

He sat a bowl in front of me, and I reached for it.

I wasn’t hungry but wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to eat. Didn’t know when another might come.

It was horrible, some kind of canned beef stew with a peppery, slightly metallic taste, but I didn’t care.

I ate until it was gone, my stomach full, but not uncomfortably so, then drank the canteen of water he sat on the table.

After I was done, I took a deep breath then looked at him.

“I feel like you and your friends don’t have my best intentions in mind, Lucas,” I finally said.

He lifted a brow, seeming surprised that I was using his first name. I was, too, and wasn’t exactly sure why I had. But the situation had changed, and using his first name seemed to be a good idea, if only to remind myself that the parameters of the past weren’t in play now.

“Lucas, huh? We’re on a first-name basis now? That means I can call you Angel.”

“Why not? Formality seems a little out of place now, doesn’t it?”

If he thought I gave a shit what he called me, he was out of his mind.

But I knew he didn’t care at all. Which meant he was stalling.

That Crowe was stalling meant he was about to say something I definitely wouldn’t like.

“Spit it out, Lucas. I think I’ve proven by now that I’m not going to fall apart,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess you have.”

Still, he didn’t speak, not immediately.

Instead, he sat at the other chair in the room, his gaze never leaving mine.

It was…different, to be the focus of his attention.

On the one hand, I knew it was because he was about to tell me something that I definitely didn’t want to hear.

But on the other, it was interesting.

I was getting a look at him, the real him, I suspected, and that was different.

“Merlin wants me to help him do a job.”

“A job?” I said, not bothering to hide my disgust.

“Yeah. There’s a military outpost nearby, small, but probably equipment rich,” he said.

“That idiot wants to rob a military base?”

“Yeah, and he wants me to help him do it.”

“You have the skill set for that?” I said.

“I do.”

“So what does that have to do with me?”

“Glad to see that you’re concerned about me, Angel,” he said with a low snort.

I waved him away. “You can take care of yourself. What about me?”

“So far, you’ve proven that you can pretty well take care of yourself too,” he said.

“That might just be a front. But you’re not here to compliment me. You’re going to tell me about an insipid plan to rob a military base, so just get to it.”

“Insipid?” he said, lifting a brow.

I arched my own in response, and he smiled again.

“I told you’d I’d get you home. Gave you my word,” he said.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“My word means something. So that promise still stands. I will help you get home.”

“But…”

“But in the meantime, you’re going to have to stay here.”

“By myself?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Can you see how this might be a problem for me?” I tilted my head as I stared at him.

“Yeah, I see how it might be a problem for you, but I told Merlin that me helping him out was contingent on a couple things,” he said.

“Like making sure you get supplies, right?”

“Yeah, and that you would be unharmed.”

“And you’re going to take his word for it?”

“Do either of us have much of a choice?”

“Yeah, I guess not. So, I guess I’ll just hang tight here at the real racist, fake soldier compound and hope that everything turns out okay while you go rob a military base. Oh, and dead people are turning into murderous cannibals,” I added sarcastically.

“That seems to get to the heart of the matter, doctor,” he said.

I chuckled despite myself, and to my great surprise he joined in.

We laughed, the moment surprisingly calm, even companionable. Still, I sobered, met his eyes.

“So can you make me another promise?” I asked.

“What’s that?” he said.

“That you won’t die.”