Colby Justice

Her hands shook even as she concentrated hard to keep them steady.

She could do this, had to do this.

Take a breath.

A tap on her left shoulder warned that Steele had moved up as close as possible. His long, lean body aligned almost completely with the length of hers.

She turned to him. Swallowed hard as she blinked to try and focus in on his face. The night-vision goggles hung impotently around her neck. There had been no reason to put them on…there was nothing to see at this point. Yet, she needed to see…but not like that. It was too dark. Too damned dark. She couldn’t see a damned thing with her own eyes!

Calm. Stay calm.

No reason to panic. She had memorized the route. There was nothing here to be afraid of. Just four metal walls. closing in on her.

Stop!

He leaned his face closer to her head. “We have to keep moving,” he whispered in her ear. “Is there a problem?”

The lump that had swelled to capacity in her throat now ballooned into her chest. If she told him. she couldn’t tell him. No one could know. That would be a huge mistake.

But she had to get out of here.

Without responding, she twisted her torso and low-crawled to the right, sliding as quickly as humanly possible into the narrower metal corridor leading to an exit. Steele snagged her by the ankle, but she jerked free of his clutch and increased her forward momentum toward escape.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

Penny tried with every ounce of her being to grab back control…tried to restrain the urge to rush toward any sort of escape. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t tamp down the need throbbing and swelling inside her.

She needed air…space.

With one shaky yank, she cleared the filter out of her path, then tinkered with the clips until the return grill flew open. Steele was still clutching at her as she scrambled out into a long carpeted corridor.

She stood on rubbery legs. Blinked.

Check your perimeter, Penny. Don’t go totally stupid.

She scanned the corridor. Deserted. An interior corridor judging by the lack of windows, she surmised. Dimly lit, but even a little light was better than none. No noise. No sign of the enemy.

The ruthless grip of fear on her chest eased fractionally, allowing her to drag in a much needed lungful of air.

Strong fingers, just as ruthless as the fear had been, wrapped around her arm. She turned to face her partner. The glare in his eyes told her he was not happy. But they couldn’t talk here.

Doors lined each side of the corridor. All they needed was one that was unlocked.

She motioned for him to follow her. Checking doors as she went, she opened the first one she encountered that wasn’t locked.

Office. Large. Gleaming wood furnishings. View of the Magnificent Mile below. En suite half bath. It had to belong to a top executive.

Steele hauled her to the en suite bath and quietly closed the door. In the split second before he flipped the light switch, her heart rate had already started rising again.

“What the hell, Alexander?” he muttered in a harsh whisper. The ferocity of his tone jump-started the guilt that had hovered around the fringes of her illogical fear.

Guilt, fear, whatever, her pulse was hammering again. In spite of his obvious annoyance, she should be able to hang on to some semblance of control now that she was out of that tunnel and in the light.

But that wasn’t happening nearly fast enough.

“I.” She gestured to his side. “We should take a look at your injury.” As she said the words, he flinched. But not because she’d spoken too loudly. Her words had scarcely been a whisper. The area around the tape job she’d done in the darkness was smeared with blood.

That relief she’d been anticipating slowly filtered through her veins. His injury was the perfect excuse. She didn’t have to tell him the truth. That she was claustrophobic. She’d fought the problem for years. Thought she had it under control enough to pretend it wasn’t real.

She’d been lying to herself.

Seriously lying.

Major mistake.

Normally the little issue wouldn’t be a problem. Her assignments wouldn’t take her into places like this under normal circumstances. There had been no need to mention it in the interview with Ian Michaels. Damn it!

She’d done her research. The Colby Agency had hired a deaf woman only six or seven months ago. Penny’s situation was nothing compared to that.it shouldn’t create a problem. Even if she was forced to fess up.

When Steele didn’t growl back at her, she went on in that barely audible whisper. “Since the enemy didn’t come rushing after us when your suit tore, maybe we can safely assume they don’t have a thermal scanner. We’re safe here for the moment as long as we’re quiet. Let’s see what the damage is so we can get on with our assignment.” Sounded completely logical to her.

“Do we have a problem?” Ian Michaels’s voice echoed in her ear, adding another layer of tension to her already runaway reactions. Steel stiffened as he heard the same question.

Steele touched his mic to activate the audio on his end. “We’re checking the injury I sustained when my suit was torn,” he explained, keeping his voice whisper soft. “I may have to remove my suit. Keep us posted if trouble heads our way.”

The silence that radiated for the next five seconds revealed the hesitation Ian felt at the idea. “Understood. We’ll keep you informed.”

More of that knee-weakening relief roared through Penny. She didn’t want to screw this up—for those who needed rescuing or for herself.

She and Steeled dropped their backpacks onto the tiled floor of the tiny bathroom. Penny peeled off her gloves, then her head gear and exhaled an audible sigh.

Steele studied her as he did the same before reaching for the front zipper of his suit. He was suspicious. Penny avoided direct eye contact by turning to the sink and rinsing her face and hands. Her hands still shook. She glared at the traitors, then grabbed a hand towel and blotted her skin dry.

Steele continued to stare at her.

She tossed the towel aside and ran her fingers through her hair. If she had been smart she would have allowed her gaze to meet his rather than having it stick like glue to his muscled chest as he stripped away the upper portion of the suit.

The skintight material peeled off his shoulders and down his arms, revealing his upper torso. The injury was on his right side, just above his lean waist. She blinked to dispel the image of rippled abs. Of course he would be in excellent physical condition. His job required as much. She should have expected as much. But somehow seeing all that awe-inspiring terrain still startled her.

She shifted her attention to her backpack and removed the first-aid kit. It wasn’t much, just the essentials, but it would have to do.

After locating a clean hand towel on the shelf above the toilet, she wet it and started to clean the wound.

“I can do that,” he said, the statement a fierce rumble under his breath.

“I imagine this is something I’m better trained to do than you,” she tossed back as quietly as her frustration level would allow.

He didn’t argue further, just stood there watching her every move, brooding.

With the wound cleaned, she spread the items she would need on the counter and dropped into a crouch in front of him. The ragged incision still seeped a little. Antibiotic ointment and butterfly strips wouldn’t likely stop it right away, but they would help. She pressed the damp cloth over the wound and held it for a bit in hopes of stanching the last of the seepage.

His face remained stoic. His close-cropped dark hair kept it from appearing mussed after removing his headgear. Lucky him. Her wild mane was a mess. She was pretty sure Ian hadn’t mentioned Steele being former military. That made her wonder at his short hair. Maybe he preferred it so short in deference to the job. She could definitely see how digging and ferreting his way into dangerous crevices and tunnels would make longer hair bothersome.

Setting the damp, bloody towel aside, she quickly stretched the butterfly strips across the wound, pulling each side tightly across the skin. When she’d accomplished that goal, she applied the ointment to the gauze and placed it over the injury. She taped the gauze snugly into place.

“That feel okay?”

He grunted what might have been a yes.

That was about the extent of what she could do with the limited supplies they had brought with them. Not exactly a professional job.

Her heart rate had slowed and her pulse was back to something resembling normal. For that she was immensely grateful. All she needed now was a moment to get a grip and then they could proceed. She fully recognized that every moment wasted was one that could make all the difference.

Focus on the calm. Keep those slow even breaths coming.

She packed up the first-aid supplies, dropped the kit into her pack, and tossed the soiled hand towel into the lidded trash receptacle, then reached for her headgear. Steele stopped her, catching her wrist in his hand.

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