talk to Jack to get answers, but she couldn't call him. Asking Colin hadn't gone so well. After last night she wasn't about to approach Colin a second time. They'd end up in the sack, having sex again, rather than actually discussing GHR's hidden agenda.
"Thanks." Jess stacked the last crate of seed packets and flipped the truck gate up. She pulled the door shut, and listened for the clunk that indicated the door was secured, so that while they were driving over non-existent roads, the boxes of relief they were set to deliver wouldn't tumble out the back.
Jess swung up into the cab of the truck and set her backpack at her feet. Keisha was already in the driver's seat. The inside of the truck stank of sweaty soldiers and the faint underlying scent of gun oil. She surveyed the interior, cracked vinyl seats, a dashboard that had definitely seen better days, and a GPS system that was useless since most of the roads in the system didn't exist any more. They'd be better off calculating routes based on the position of the sun. But through it all Jess kept her mouth shut.
"You have your pistol?" Keisha pressed in the clutch with her left foot and shifted the stick into first gear.
Jess's stomach churned. "Yes. But shouldn't we be safe?"
Keisha laughed. "In theory, yes. But we've got a trigger happy military and shell-shocked citizens who are desperate for help. These situations are always volatile. And you always need to be prepared."
Keisha was just about to take off when the driver's door swung open. "What the hell?"
"Change of plans," Colin said shortly. "You need to stay here. There's a problem with the special shipment. I'll take the supply run."
Keisha snorted and rolled her eyes. But only Jess saw her expression. "I'll bet."
"We need your expertise," Colin said again. Steadily. Patiently.
Keisha suddenly scrambled to get out of the truck. "Oh. Shit. Okay. Okay. Sorry."
What the heck was that about?
While Keisha scurried off to do whatever thing was keeping her at the relief encampment, Jess shifted in the truck seat. Before she had time to wonder what kind of expertise Keisha had that Colin didn't, or if she really wanted to know, a sharp edge of cracked vinyl scraped her leg and cut her. Jess flinched and tried to ignore the throb in her leg.
She surreptitiously leaned over to look at the cut.
While she was trying to see the damage, Colin leapt into the truck and settled into the driver's seat. Dressed in top of the line hiking boots, tan shorts, and a black fitted t-shirt, his muscled biceps were on display, causing a flutter in her heart. He had wide palms and long fingers with blunt tips. And just remembering his skilled hands as they played over her body sent shivers zipping down her spine. Jess shifted her attention away from his hands. But then her gaze landed on the hairy column of his thighs and she was reminded again of the night they'd spent together in London as she straddled his legs, knees around his slender hips, his fingers tight on her ass as he pounded inside her.
She fanned her face, hoping he wouldn't notice, then prayed if he did, he'd mistake the flush spreading over her skin as a reaction to the heat and not to his proximity.
"What's wrong?"
She should have known he'd pay attention. "Nothing."
"Let me see." Colin leaned toward her. Jess shoved back against the truck door. But it was impossible to avoid his fierce regard. "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
"Not here it isn't."
Colin flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out a first aid kit. "With your experience you should know that an open wound in the tropics can be a real problem if it isn't treated properly."
Especially with whatever germs lingered on the ancient truck seat. He was right, dammit. Jess sighed. "Okay. Yes, I think I have a cut."
She twisted her torso to try to see the injury on her upper left hamstring. But the placement of the slice was awkward and she couldn't see a thing.
"Face the window," Colin said
"Thanks." Jess stacked the last crate of seed packets and flipped the truck gate up. She pulled the door shut, and listened for the clunk that indicated the door was secured, so that while they were driving over non-existent roads, the boxes of relief they were set to deliver wouldn't tumble out the back.
Jess swung up into the cab of the truck and set her backpack at her feet. Keisha was already in the driver's seat. The inside of the truck stank of sweaty soldiers and the faint underlying scent of gun oil. She surveyed the interior, cracked vinyl seats, a dashboard that had definitely seen better days, and a GPS system that was useless since most of the roads in the system didn't exist any more. They'd be better off calculating routes based on the position of the sun. But through it all Jess kept her mouth shut.
"You have your pistol?" Keisha pressed in the clutch with her left foot and shifted the stick into first gear.
Jess's stomach churned. "Yes. But shouldn't we be safe?"
Keisha laughed. "In theory, yes. But we've got a trigger happy military and shell-shocked citizens who are desperate for help. These situations are always volatile. And you always need to be prepared."
Keisha was just about to take off when the driver's door swung open. "What the hell?"
"Change of plans," Colin said shortly. "You need to stay here. There's a problem with the special shipment. I'll take the supply run."
Keisha snorted and rolled her eyes. But only Jess saw her expression. "I'll bet."
"We need your expertise," Colin said again. Steadily. Patiently.
Keisha suddenly scrambled to get out of the truck. "Oh. Shit. Okay. Okay. Sorry."
What the heck was that about?
While Keisha scurried off to do whatever thing was keeping her at the relief encampment, Jess shifted in the truck seat. Before she had time to wonder what kind of expertise Keisha had that Colin didn't, or if she really wanted to know, a sharp edge of cracked vinyl scraped her leg and cut her. Jess flinched and tried to ignore the throb in her leg.
She surreptitiously leaned over to look at the cut.
While she was trying to see the damage, Colin leapt into the truck and settled into the driver's seat. Dressed in top of the line hiking boots, tan shorts, and a black fitted t-shirt, his muscled biceps were on display, causing a flutter in her heart. He had wide palms and long fingers with blunt tips. And just remembering his skilled hands as they played over her body sent shivers zipping down her spine. Jess shifted her attention away from his hands. But then her gaze landed on the hairy column of his thighs and she was reminded again of the night they'd spent together in London as she straddled his legs, knees around his slender hips, his fingers tight on her ass as he pounded inside her.
She fanned her face, hoping he wouldn't notice, then prayed if he did, he'd mistake the flush spreading over her skin as a reaction to the heat and not to his proximity.
"What's wrong?"
She should have known he'd pay attention. "Nothing."
"Let me see." Colin leaned toward her. Jess shoved back against the truck door. But it was impossible to avoid his fierce regard. "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
"Not here it isn't."
Colin flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out a first aid kit. "With your experience you should know that an open wound in the tropics can be a real problem if it isn't treated properly."
Especially with whatever germs lingered on the ancient truck seat. He was right, dammit. Jess sighed. "Okay. Yes, I think I have a cut."
She twisted her torso to try to see the injury on her upper left hamstring. But the placement of the slice was awkward and she couldn't see a thing.
"Face the window," Colin said
Similar Books
The Unwinding: An Inner History of the New America
George Packer
Execution Dock
Anne Perry
Words Will Break Cement
Masha Gessen
At Fear's Altar
Richard Gavin
Holiday Bound
Beth Kery
Zane & Lucky's First Christmas (Forever Love, #5)
J. S. Cooper
Dying to Read
Lorena McCourtney
The Mystery of the Purple Pool
Gertrude Chandler Warner
thevirginchronicles
Jennifer Willows