Explicit Instruction (7 page)

The mattress was thin and her back hurt a little
, but when she examined her body, the signs of their union were all over her. Deep red welts formed over her hips, the stubble burn on her breasts reddened her, but this evidence made her quiver.

Rushe had been in her. The man who had saved her life, who she had assumed could never want her, who could never fit in her
, had climaxed in her body. Inside little Felicity Hughes who meant nothing of consequence to anyone.

Rushe had crash
ed out of the room so the door was closed. Frantic voices drew Flick’s attention, but she couldn’t decipher what was being said. On the conclusion that it might be important for her to defend herself soon, Flick shirked her disbelief and rolled off the bed only to collapse on the floor.

Her jelly legs wobbled, her knees had given out, and the passage that had welcomed him now ached,
her cervix bruised inside. He’d wanted her so badly.

The door opened and Rushe came in
, now back in his jeans though his hair was clearly wet from the shower. He literally stepped over her to snag his tee-shirt. Crouching at her side Flick thought he would acknowledge her now, but he didn’t.

Rushe took the bottom drawer
off its runners then reached to the back and pulled out a roll of banknotes, which he threw down to her while thumping the drawer shut.

‘What’s this?’

‘We’re getting Shiv patched up,’ Rushe said, stuffing his feet into his boots. ‘Get out of here.’

‘What
?’ she asked, picking up the bundle of money.

‘There’s five hundred bucks there. Out the front go left. In a mile you’ll find a fence, follow it south. Dress
warm; take the water and the first-aid stuff.’

‘You said I couldn’t go,’ she said. ‘That you wouldn’t let me go.’

‘The cash will get you a room and transport when you get back to town. Go home to your boyfriend.’

Rushe
finished tying his boots and was about to stand up from the bed when Flick snatched his forearm.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘They wanted to kill you.’

‘I’ve faced worse with longer odds,’ he said. ‘Get out of here.’

‘I don’t want to leave you.’

‘You’ve served your purpose. You’re of no use to me.’

‘You wanted to have sex with me,’ she said. ‘You kept me here until I... until it was consensual.’

The smirk on his face was enough to confirm her fear. ‘Wait sixty seconds, then leave,’ he said, and this time he did get up but she managed to scramble to her feet.

‘You’re in danger her
e.’

Rushe wrenched his arm from her grip. ‘You got one use sweetheart,’ he said
, palming her breast. ‘Wasn’t good enough for a replay.’

‘So that’s it?’

‘Wait sixty seconds.’

With
a leer Rushe scanned her figure, and for the first time he made her feel ugly and used. Then without meeting her gaze he left the room, and the house.

Long after she’d list
ened to the truck drive away, Flick still sat on the bed wearing only his open shirt. He’d told her to clear out, but something didn’t fit. Maybe Rushe wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but he’d never been cruel. She’d seen hints of a vulnerability in him and a gentleness she knew would be difficult for him to admit to. But he’d used her for sex, for his own pleasure, although he’d seen to hers too.

Flick set in her
mind that she had to get going. Her first aim was to rid herself of the traces of their fornication so she went to the shower. The building was empty. No one threatened her now but that didn’t mean she hung around. Using Rushe’s soap instead of the one he’d bought specifically for her, Flick washed her body, but didn’t linger by washing her hair.

When she got back into the bedroom and dried herself Flick was left with
a slight problem. None of the clothes Rushe had bought for her could be considered warm. Granted, he hadn’t had a lot of time, and probably didn’t want to let the others know he was making purchases on her behalf, so Rushe couldn’t have come back with a complete wardrobe.

Choosing the
jeans and the two thickest tops Flick dressed then grabbed up his shirt, and tied it around her hips. The next problem came in transport. Filling one of the paper bags with the things she might need made Flick worry about the bag’s strength. But after a quick look around the rest of the shack she could find no alternative.

Ready to leave
, Flick stalled again – she had nothing to put on her feet. Her own shoes had been missing since Dell’s, and here the only thing she’d worn was Rushe’s socks. Pulling on two pairs, she snatched up her paper bag and went for the door.

On leaving the shack she followed Rushe’s instructions. They could be back at any
time; Flick didn’t know what they were doing with Shiv. She doubted that they would take him to a hospital, but they could have a contact to take him to. In movies the bad guys always leaned on some doctor somewhere to do what was needed, and to not report the injury.

But this wasn’t a movie. Rushe wasn’t like the other
s, but she sensed no love lost between any of them. It was as likely that they were taking Shiv into a deserted place to put him out of his misery. No one could ask questions if they didn’t witness the result of her crime.

Flick kept moving, the sun was hot
, and her clothes stuck to her body with the perspiration that quickly sprung from her pores, but she wasn’t about to let up. Getting distance between herself and that place was all she could think about right now.

Rushe had said that civilisation was miles away. He’d told her to dress warm, and to take supplies
, so Flick could only assume that meant she’d be out here for a while. The heat of the afternoon sun was past its peak now, but her temperature didn’t decrease. She knew that losing water right now could be detrimental later, but she kept up the pace, knowing that it would be far more dangerous not to.

Taking a break
a couple of hours into her trek, long after finding the fence Rushe had referred to, she retrieved some water, and tried to find the sky. The bold blue that she’d caught glimpses of throughout her walk had become decidedly grey, and the heat hung in the humid air, dense and oppressive around her. But Flick got moving again, she had to keep moving.

Her thoughts kept returning to Rushe, to what
had happened today, to his parting words. Flick had spent her life trying not to ruffle feathers. The only time she had asserted herself in the past was with her parents, and that had led them to terminate their relationship with her. But Flick had stood up for herself then because she had to. Rushe had stood up for her at Dell’s, and today Flick had stood up for him.

But the fact remained that the men here didn’t like Rushe and he wouldn’t be safe alone. Rushe was the toughest, strongest man she’d ever known
. But out here the hyenas could do what they wanted, and they would play dirty. Rushe himself had said these men would shoot a man in the back.

Flick felt sure
that she would never see Rushe again. He’d never blip on her radar. They’d met by accident, and walking away now would mean she’d never know what became of him. Rushe was now alone and surrounded by men who wished him dead. He had an authority that they resented, and if he walked away from this criminal plot she’d be surprised.

More likely was that the lowlifes here would terminate him, shoot him while he slept, and dispose of his body, and no one would ever know – she would never know. But walking away, abandoning him
, meant her own desertion of him, and so Flick would be partially responsible for his death. He’d been there for her when there was no one else to defend her, but now he was alone.

The heavy plop of
rain hitting her wrist shook Flick from her thoughts, and as quickly as she registered the moisture, the heavens opened, and rain cascaded from the sky. Still following the fence Flick pushed on, hoping that she would find sanctuary soon. Her trip had been arduous. Three hours had to have passed but she still hadn’t seen any signs of life.

Worrying about
Rushe was self-indulgent. A man like him was tough, and he was more than capable of looking after himself. Believing that she could impact his life, or aid him in any way, was flattering herself. Today had been a fluke, he’d got himself into a jam but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have got himself out of it if she hadn’t interrupted.

Flick stopped to untie his shirt from her hips to put it on
. Her clothes were soaked to her skin, her jeans were heavy, and already the socks were caked in mud. She propped the paper bag on a fencepost and buttoned up the shirt. Reaching to pick up the bag, she cried out when it fell from its perch, and scattered its contents.

Wet through,
Flick could hear the beat of the heavy drops splatting into the mud that seeped between her toes. The longer she stood here the deeper her feet sank, but she couldn’t decide what to do. Scrambling down, she gathered what she could into her shirt, lifting the hem to hold the items in the pouch created in the fabric. She would need the water, and the food that hadn’t been ruined by the muck. But most of the first-aid items were lost, and with little hope a crack of lightening lit the darkening air, and Flick pounced to her feet.

Being in the trees wasn’t the safest place
in weather like this, and though she could see the line of the fence stretched out in front of her, she couldn’t see beyond where it got lost in the foliage far up ahead. With the hope that there could be a clearing, she started into the trees hoping for shelter. The forest had been on both sides of the fence and Flick worried that in this weather, and in the state she was, things couldn’t get much worse.

Then she heard the rumble of an engine and she cast her eyes
upward, thankful for this serendipity. If the fence was around someone’s property, then it stood to reason that person could be patrolling the perimeter. If the landowner found her, she could get to shelter, and to a phone, and be home by the morning. Progress was slow going. Flick had to heave one sodden foot from the viscous mud then with as much might she lugged the other foot out, which sent the first foot deeper.

A flash of light lifted her chin and Flick dropped her hands, letting the last of the items in her shirt pouch fall to the ground. That wasn’t the lightening that cracked up ahead, that flash had been headlights. Picking up the pace Flick raced as fast as she could toward that noise, and
when those lights became a solid beam she lifted her hands to wave at the vehicle hoping it wouldn’t miss her in this murk.

The light stayed on, and it came closer, and Flick’s cheeks burned with the width of the grin bursting on her face. Then the rumble slowed, and the vehicle stopped. But she couldn’t see past the glare of the headlights. Taking her hand up to deflect the light she heard a door opening.

‘Lookie, lookie.’

Her blood froze. Her smile fell. Her body screamed in dismay. ‘
Skeeve,’ she exhaled.

‘In the flesh,’ he said moving closer. ‘You going somewhere? Or you just on the welcoming committee? You’re pretty fa
r from home. What were you doing, running away? You’ll pay for that little girl.’

Flick took a step away but in the slippery terrain
, she fell backwards. Another door opened and she recognised the figure that emerged though he didn’t say a word. Skeeve sidled closer, like a scavenger moving in toward a carcass all but picked clean.

Rushe wasn’t so dainty. He strode over, snatched her up, and h
auled her back to the truck. Flick didn’t get the place of a seat this time. He threw her to the floor and slammed into the vehicle. Skeeve’s cackle came back into the truck, and then Glen was driving again.

Rush
e hadn’t said a single word, but she didn’t need him to spell out what that look on his face meant. He was definitely not amused.

Flick couldn’t believe that she’d missed her chance. Now she was back here. Back with these
men, who were capable of anything. Her freedom had been brief, but it had smelled good. The rain, the terrain, the loss of her supplies, all of those had been negatives, but she hadn’t considered that they would be out here.

Rushe and the others were of co
urse coming back to the hideout. But that first night, on their approach to the shack, she hadn’t been aware of their surroundings. Most of the environment looked the same as the rest, as Flick had learned on her brief expedition. She’d been out of the shack, far into her journey, and it hadn’t occurred to her that these men would travel the same route she would be on. Especially as she had walked in the opposite direction to the one they’d driven on her first arrival here.

When they got back to the shack and the men piled out it was like a recurring nightmare. Rushe took hold of her, and on their journey into the structure, and into the bedroom
, her feet never touched the floor. Not until he dropped her down onto it. It was dark. It was cold. She was wet and dirty. But what she was most aware of was Rushe’s seething figure. Flick could feel his anger.

‘Sixty seconds,’ he muttered. ‘I said sixty seconds. Can you not count?’