said, climbing to her feet. “My self-defense instructor taught me to use my knee. Or my hand.”
Cole levered himself upright. “I get the knee. I’m guessing I wouldn’t like what you’d do with your hand, either.”
“I’d grab your testicles and squeeze as hard as I could for as long as I could. It’s for getting away from a rapist.”
He sucked some air in through his teeth. “Makes me glad I’m just a terrorist.”
“You’re not a terrorist; you were just a dumb kid.”
“Yeah,” he said on a rush of breath, “and now I don’t even have the excuse of youth. What are you doing?”
“Looking for my laptop,” Harmony said, walking a couple more steps back along the path she’d have taken when she came off the train. “It has to be around here somewhere.”
“Shit. Why the hell didn’t you hang onto it?”
“Hmmmm, let me see. Because somebody shoved me out of a moving train and I was busy trying not to break my neck?”
Wisely, Cole decided not to respond to that, pacing along about five feet away from her, back toward the train tracks. Luckily, it wasn’t far away, and it was dry. Her duffel hadn’t fared so well. Harmony slung the laptop case over her shoulder again, but when she took the duffel from Cole it weighed at least five pounds more than it had, and she could hear it dripping. So much for dry clothes, not to mention ones that didn’t chafe.
But she was still alive, still free, and as far as she knew, Richard was all right, too. As long as there was hope for success, a little chafing was a small price to pay.
“So what’s the plan?” Cole wanted to know.
“Start walking.” And that’s what she did, scanning the darkness ahead and praying for inspiration. What she got was Cole, sounding like the voice of her own insecurity.
“Where?”
“We head west.”
“Do you know where west is?”
“I will as soon as the sun rises.”
“Sunrise isn’t for hours. I’d like to get dry and warm some time in the near future.”
Harmony stopped, looking back to where he was still standing by the railroad tracks. “You should be used to privation.”
“Even in jail I got a bed and a hot meal.”
“You’ve had the hot meal. That will have to do for a bed.”
Cole came over to her and peered in the direction of her pointing finger. “What is it?”
“A big, red barn.”
“How do you know it’s big? And how do you know it’s red?”
Harmony took another look. The ground rose up gradually away from the tracks, and at the top of a distant hill sat a farmhouse, outbuildings, and something that was definitely a barn, its distinctive roof shape a darker patch against a sky studded with a million stars. “It’s a lot bigger than the rest of the buildings,” she said. “Does the color really matter? It’s close and it will be warm.”
“What about the farmer? I’m assuming there’s a farmer in your mental picture, probably wearing overalls and holding a pitchfork.”
She huffed out a slight laugh. “Who’s the one with the imagination?”
“I had a lot of time to develop it in jail,” Cole said.
“Don’t get out of practice. You’re going to need it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Cole smacked her on the backside as she walked by. “But it always helps to have inspiration.”
THEY WALKED FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR, BY COLE’S ESTIMATION. It felt like forever. He was tired and damp and cold, and hungry since he hadn’t eaten enough of his dinner to dent his appetite. And then there was Harmony, walking in front of him with her trim little ass swaying. She’d had her back turned on that freight car, and it had been pretty dark, but even if her pale skin hadn’t reflected what little light there’d been, he wasn’t kidding when he said he had a hell of an imagination. He had no trouble filling in the blank spots. Hell, he was probably making her look better than she actually did. For one thing, in his fantasy the FBI badge was nowhere to be
Cole levered himself upright. “I get the knee. I’m guessing I wouldn’t like what you’d do with your hand, either.”
“I’d grab your testicles and squeeze as hard as I could for as long as I could. It’s for getting away from a rapist.”
He sucked some air in through his teeth. “Makes me glad I’m just a terrorist.”
“You’re not a terrorist; you were just a dumb kid.”
“Yeah,” he said on a rush of breath, “and now I don’t even have the excuse of youth. What are you doing?”
“Looking for my laptop,” Harmony said, walking a couple more steps back along the path she’d have taken when she came off the train. “It has to be around here somewhere.”
“Shit. Why the hell didn’t you hang onto it?”
“Hmmmm, let me see. Because somebody shoved me out of a moving train and I was busy trying not to break my neck?”
Wisely, Cole decided not to respond to that, pacing along about five feet away from her, back toward the train tracks. Luckily, it wasn’t far away, and it was dry. Her duffel hadn’t fared so well. Harmony slung the laptop case over her shoulder again, but when she took the duffel from Cole it weighed at least five pounds more than it had, and she could hear it dripping. So much for dry clothes, not to mention ones that didn’t chafe.
But she was still alive, still free, and as far as she knew, Richard was all right, too. As long as there was hope for success, a little chafing was a small price to pay.
“So what’s the plan?” Cole wanted to know.
“Start walking.” And that’s what she did, scanning the darkness ahead and praying for inspiration. What she got was Cole, sounding like the voice of her own insecurity.
“Where?”
“We head west.”
“Do you know where west is?”
“I will as soon as the sun rises.”
“Sunrise isn’t for hours. I’d like to get dry and warm some time in the near future.”
Harmony stopped, looking back to where he was still standing by the railroad tracks. “You should be used to privation.”
“Even in jail I got a bed and a hot meal.”
“You’ve had the hot meal. That will have to do for a bed.”
Cole came over to her and peered in the direction of her pointing finger. “What is it?”
“A big, red barn.”
“How do you know it’s big? And how do you know it’s red?”
Harmony took another look. The ground rose up gradually away from the tracks, and at the top of a distant hill sat a farmhouse, outbuildings, and something that was definitely a barn, its distinctive roof shape a darker patch against a sky studded with a million stars. “It’s a lot bigger than the rest of the buildings,” she said. “Does the color really matter? It’s close and it will be warm.”
“What about the farmer? I’m assuming there’s a farmer in your mental picture, probably wearing overalls and holding a pitchfork.”
She huffed out a slight laugh. “Who’s the one with the imagination?”
“I had a lot of time to develop it in jail,” Cole said.
“Don’t get out of practice. You’re going to need it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Cole smacked her on the backside as she walked by. “But it always helps to have inspiration.”
THEY WALKED FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR, BY COLE’S ESTIMATION. It felt like forever. He was tired and damp and cold, and hungry since he hadn’t eaten enough of his dinner to dent his appetite. And then there was Harmony, walking in front of him with her trim little ass swaying. She’d had her back turned on that freight car, and it had been pretty dark, but even if her pale skin hadn’t reflected what little light there’d been, he wasn’t kidding when he said he had a hell of an imagination. He had no trouble filling in the blank spots. Hell, he was probably making her look better than she actually did. For one thing, in his fantasy the FBI badge was nowhere to be
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