Read Hunting for Free Online

angle of sunlight passing through the window helped
him keep any sense of the time. Hours passed. They spent most of
that time in silence. Occasionally, she would ask him how he felt,
then try to examine him for internal injuries.
    Malachi had never been more
aware of a woman in his life.
    “ Do you think they’re any
closer to finding us?” she asked around what he thought was noon.
She’d grown steadily paler and Malachi had insisted she sit
down.
    “ I don’t know.” What could
he tell her? That most kidnapping victims not found within
twenty-four hours were never found? At least, not found alive? She
would already know that. He’d reviewed her Bureau personnel file.
She may work forensic pathology, but she’d excelled at
Quantico.
    “ Hell is probably going
through cases for the last year, looking for a connection.” Her
voice held hope and it hurt him. “He’ll find something and connect
the dots. George says he’s the best.”
    He felt a small twinge of
hurt pride. “One of, yes.”
    “ What do we do if they come
back before Hell finds us?” Hazel eyes stared into his.
    “ Play it by ear,” he said.
“You cooperate. I don’t want you making them the least bit angry.”
It was a fact—she was ten times as likely to be sexually assaulted,
and he was in no true position to protect her. A rush of impotence
hit him. He’d die before he let anyone hurt her.
    “ I get it,” she said. “I
wish we had a freaking weapon of some sort.”
    He thought for several
moments then removed the porcelain lid from the toilet. She
followed him into the bathroom and watched curiously. “What are you
doing?”
    “ Go back and close the
door. I don’t want you getting hit.” He waited until she obeyed
before dropping the lid from chest level. It shattered, leaving him
with several larger pieces perfect for what he had in
mind.
    “ Are you done yet?” she
called through the door.
    “ The facilities are all
yours, my dear.” He held up his loot and smiled. “I’ll need some
toothpaste and a roll of toilet paper.”
    “ So you do have some uses
after all.” She grabbed the supplies and followed him back into the
main room. They sat down on the crude bed, and he laid the
porcelain shards on the concrete floor by their feet. He took the
toothpaste and coated one end of porcelain with the green cream. He
wrapped it in several layers of toilet paper and squeezed, forming
a rustic handle.
    He repeated the process
with three other shards. She must have grasped his intent and took
the first shank and delicately, but methodically began sharpening
it against the rough concrete of the cinder block walls.
    “ Be careful not to break
them by sharpening too much.”
    “ I’ve got good hands, you
know. Comes from cutting up dead bodies.” He heard the irritation
in her voice. It gave it a husky tone that had his stomach
tightening.
    “ Sharpen half of them,
then. Make them better for slicing.” He finished his sixth
creation. “We’ll set a few in the window to dry then can hide them
throughout the room.”
    “ Bet you were a boy scout.”
She took a seventh shard, smaller than the rest and repeated his
actions. She held it up triumphantly.
    “ Of course.” He held up
his. It was three times as large as hers. He grinned at her, not
surprised to see her usual smirk hit her lips.
    “ Ah, but I have nothing to
compensate for. Now what, MacGyver?”
    “ Now...we wait.”
    She flopped back onto the
mattress. “Great.”
    Her movement caused the
flirty little dress she wore to ride up, revealing her pretty legs.
The shredded stockings did little to detract from their shape or
smoothness. He swallowed, forcing himself to look away.
    It was just proximity
making him imagine what those legs would feel like wrapped around
him. It was just a variant of Stockholm Syndrome; that was
all.
    She stood, then disappeared
into the bathroom, returning after a moment. She held two of the
bottled waters and several packages of