she’d seen or heard, and yet the military had to have had some reason for holding them, experimenting on them, and then deciding to just terminate the ‘project’ by killing them.
That part, she had no trouble believing. They’d filled her stepfather’s boat so full of holes she was surprised it had stayed afloat. It was nothing short of amazing that they’d managed to elude them, although she knew her stepfather had specifically had the boat custom fitted for more speed. He’d wanted to take her mother around the world on it. He hadn’t wanted to chance being hijacked by pirates.
Mac and Hawk appeared out of the darkness in that unnerving way they had about them. She winced inwardly when she got a good look at them as they crouched down on either side of the fire, but she didn’t say anything. They made it a point not to look at her or each other.
Guilt and sympathy flickered through her when she saw that they both looked so badly battered, but she strove to dismiss both. She felt ill-used by both of them. She still didn’t understand why Mac had behaved the way he had—and then had the gall to order Hawk to leave her alone, but she wasn’t particularly happy about Hawk’s behavior in retrospect.
Not when the things he’d said seemed to indicate he’d been giving her ‘pity kisses’. She should’ve known there must be some reason he’d been thinking in terms of a pity fuck. He’d probably been offering, not asking for it.
They sure knew how to annihilate a woman’s self-esteem! She’d give them that!
Of course, she thought angrily, men were very good at that in general. It seemed to her that every man she’d ever been with had had the uncanny ability to zero in on every flaw, real or imagined, and optimize her self-consciousness about it. She supposed it wasn’t surprising given the fact that women in general, and her in particular, were prone toward self-analysis and stayed on the hunt for their own flaws.
Young women didn’t seem to have that problem, though. She wondered if they just had that much more confidence in themselves or if it was because youth had become the ultimate beauty product. Young was beautiful by itself—and skinny! It didn’t matter if they weren’t special in any other way, or looked like a starving Ethiopian, as long as they were young and skinny they were beautiful!
She sighed inwardly. She hadn’t noticed that she’d been particularly touchy about her age before. It was being around virile, hunky young men that was making her paranoid, she decided. When she hung around people her own age, she felt perfectly 49
comfortable—even confident.
The meat the men had cooked—and she didn’t want to know what it was—was surprisingly good—maybe because she was starving. Unfortunately, it was finger food due to their circumstances and she was left with a greasy mouth and hands that drove her bats. If she was obsessive-compulsive about anything, it was keeping her face and hands clean!
Ignoring the disapproving look she didn’t doubt Mac sent her way, she poured a little of her water in one palm and did her best to clean with it, using her shirt as a towel.
She just wished she’d been given the opportunity and the warning to grab supplies herself. She would’ve stuffed a bag with toiletries—at least soap and shampoo—and tissue paper!
There wasn’t any point in complaining about it now. It couldn’t be changed. The only thing complaining would do would be to make the men sorrier that they’d allowed her to tag along and maybe convince them to leave her somewhere!
She felt like hell when she finally lay down to try to sleep, though. As regularly as she worked out—three times a week like clockwork—she was sore in muscles she hadn’t even known she had, and just about crippled. She’d lost her shoes when she went in the water, though. There hadn’t been any chance of retrieving them. Not that she thought sneakers would’ve been all that helpful
That part, she had no trouble believing. They’d filled her stepfather’s boat so full of holes she was surprised it had stayed afloat. It was nothing short of amazing that they’d managed to elude them, although she knew her stepfather had specifically had the boat custom fitted for more speed. He’d wanted to take her mother around the world on it. He hadn’t wanted to chance being hijacked by pirates.
Mac and Hawk appeared out of the darkness in that unnerving way they had about them. She winced inwardly when she got a good look at them as they crouched down on either side of the fire, but she didn’t say anything. They made it a point not to look at her or each other.
Guilt and sympathy flickered through her when she saw that they both looked so badly battered, but she strove to dismiss both. She felt ill-used by both of them. She still didn’t understand why Mac had behaved the way he had—and then had the gall to order Hawk to leave her alone, but she wasn’t particularly happy about Hawk’s behavior in retrospect.
Not when the things he’d said seemed to indicate he’d been giving her ‘pity kisses’. She should’ve known there must be some reason he’d been thinking in terms of a pity fuck. He’d probably been offering, not asking for it.
They sure knew how to annihilate a woman’s self-esteem! She’d give them that!
Of course, she thought angrily, men were very good at that in general. It seemed to her that every man she’d ever been with had had the uncanny ability to zero in on every flaw, real or imagined, and optimize her self-consciousness about it. She supposed it wasn’t surprising given the fact that women in general, and her in particular, were prone toward self-analysis and stayed on the hunt for their own flaws.
Young women didn’t seem to have that problem, though. She wondered if they just had that much more confidence in themselves or if it was because youth had become the ultimate beauty product. Young was beautiful by itself—and skinny! It didn’t matter if they weren’t special in any other way, or looked like a starving Ethiopian, as long as they were young and skinny they were beautiful!
She sighed inwardly. She hadn’t noticed that she’d been particularly touchy about her age before. It was being around virile, hunky young men that was making her paranoid, she decided. When she hung around people her own age, she felt perfectly 49
comfortable—even confident.
The meat the men had cooked—and she didn’t want to know what it was—was surprisingly good—maybe because she was starving. Unfortunately, it was finger food due to their circumstances and she was left with a greasy mouth and hands that drove her bats. If she was obsessive-compulsive about anything, it was keeping her face and hands clean!
Ignoring the disapproving look she didn’t doubt Mac sent her way, she poured a little of her water in one palm and did her best to clean with it, using her shirt as a towel.
She just wished she’d been given the opportunity and the warning to grab supplies herself. She would’ve stuffed a bag with toiletries—at least soap and shampoo—and tissue paper!
There wasn’t any point in complaining about it now. It couldn’t be changed. The only thing complaining would do would be to make the men sorrier that they’d allowed her to tag along and maybe convince them to leave her somewhere!
She felt like hell when she finally lay down to try to sleep, though. As regularly as she worked out—three times a week like clockwork—she was sore in muscles she hadn’t even known she had, and just about crippled. She’d lost her shoes when she went in the water, though. There hadn’t been any chance of retrieving them. Not that she thought sneakers would’ve been all that helpful
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