Edge Of Truth. Brynn Kelly

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      He crouched, motionless, the shape of his butt outlined by his faded trousers. How good had that felt under her hand last night? Round, but firm and muscular. She nibbled her lip. Small pleasures were about all she could hope for.

      She spent far too many of the next ten minutes admiring his rear view. Finally, the mother mouse scampered to the crumbs. The babies weren’t old enough to venture from the nest or Tess might not have come over all Cinderella.

      “Okay, very slowly, bring that mattress closer.” Flynn inched in until he was between the mother and the nest, as Tess slid the rectangle of foam along the floor, flush against the wall, closing in. Each time the mother looked up, twitching, they froze. Time ticked by. His thighs had to be killing him, quads of granite or not.

      Tess stumbled. The mouse took off. In a blur of desert camos, Flynn flung forward and shot out an arm. “Got it.”

      Dang, he had the reflexes of a cobra.

      “Grab the babies, one by one, and ease them through that gap up there.”

      “I can’t reach that high.” Thank God. She wasn’t squeamish, but wild mice weren’t on her preferred list of things to handle. Flynn’s butt, on the other hand, was currently sitting in the top ten. Top five. Top—

      Stop it.

      He swore, his fingers clamped around the mouse’s tail as it clawed air and gyrated. “Then you’ll have to hold her while I move them.”

      She widened her eyes. “Hey, I’m tolerating them—just—but I don’t want cuddles.”

      “If I release her first, she’ll come back down to the nest.” He met her gaze. “I didn’t take you for a wimp.”

      Damn, exactly the kind of crap her brothers dished up. “Hand her over.” Oh man, really?

      He edged behind Tess, his breath teasing the top of her hair as he encircled her with his arms. “Her instincts are going mental, so you’ll have to hold tight. Clamp down on the tail, either side of my fingers.”

      Yuck, yuck, yuck. But she followed his instructions. He hovered a palm underneath their hands as he let go. “Got her?”

      “Got her.”

      “Spin her gently so she can’t arch back and bite you.” He backed away. “Can’t believe I’m busting my arse to liberate mice.”

      “Think of it as earning karma. But hurry up.”

      He knelt by the nest. “It’s okay,” he crooned in a falsetto, “you dirty little fuckers. Just call me Uncle Scroo—”

      He froze and plucked something from the nest. Not a mouse. String? He passed it under a shaft of gray light, and it glinted.

      “What is it?”

      “A wire. You said there was no electricity in this building.”

      “Not as far as I can tell.”

      “Seen any electrical cords? Wiring?”

      “Nothing.”

      He scraped at the dirt where the stone wall met the floor, just shy of the nest.

      “What are you looking for?”

      “Tell you when I find it.”

      Minnie pawed the air like she was on a mouse wheel. “Ah, could you look quickly? She’s about to turn herself inside out.”

      He crawled along one wall, digging into the dirt at its foot, then shoved aside the mattress and crept along the next wall, doing the same. Halfway along he stopped and dug faster, like a dog after a bone. Maybe that head injury was affecting his brain.

      “You beauty,” he muttered.

      “A secret tunnel?”

      “Not quite, but looks like that karma might have come round pretty quick.”

      He tugged something. She jumped as a long shape scooted along the floor. More mice? Crap—a snake? Minnie’s claws scraped her wrist. “Yeouch.” She arched her hand.

      Flynn was holding something—the end of a piece of rope, embedded in the dirt. She squinted. Not rope—an electrical cord, tapering off to a frayed end. He gazed up at the ceiling, frowning.

      “Excellent,” Tess said. “Now we can fire up my hair straightener and singe our way out of here.”

      “You have a hair straightener?”

      “Does it look like I have a hair straightener?”

      He shrugged. “Pity. Could be a useful weapon.”

      “Would you mind hurrying things up with those mice?”

      “Just a sec.” He clawed at the dirt farther along and ripped up another cord.

      “Do you think it’s live?”

      “I doubt it—the mouse managed to chew right through without getting electrocuted.” Holding each cord by its white cover, he touched the frayed ends together. “Yep, dead.”

      “Flynn...? This mouse is about to explode.”

      He stood and ran his hand over a floorboard, biting the inside of one cheek.

      “Flynn!”

      “Yeah, yeah. On it.”

      He sauntered to the nest, evidently distracted by mysterious calculations running through his brain. Kneeling, he shoveled half a dozen balls of gray onto one palm and enclosed them with the other. He stood and eased the creatures through a crack one by one, eyes crinkled in concentration. Oh boy, a tough guy being gentle—it got her right there. And that was her problem. No more tough guys, you hear? Dependable, loyal accountants.

      “Now for Minnie.” He came up so close beside Tess the warmth of his body reached out and caressed her. She stood straighter. This was not supposed to be an intimate experience. He maneuvered his hands around hers. “Separate your fingers a little. Got her. Let go.”

      “Gladly.”

      He gripped the mouse’s body and lifted it to the gap. It sniffed, found purchase with its scrabbling claws and blessedly disappeared. Tess shook her wrist.

      Flynn looked at his palms, grimacing. “Got any more wipes?” Suddenly he shut his eyes tight, like someone had stabbed his voodoo doll.

      “Flynn?”

      “Too much...action for this soldier.” When he opened his eyes they looked like they were retreating into his skull. Nothing fake about his head injury. A fraction more force and the wound could have been fatal.

      She kicked the mattress flat, caught his arm and guided him down. “More painkillers?”

      “I’ll hold out... СКАЧАТЬ