14. Evie

Chapter fourteen

Evie

She couldn't stop shivering. She was cold, cold on the inside, cold on the outside. Despair was settling over her like a fever. Her one chance at escape was gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

Well, Alex was wrong about one thing. She hadn't intended to leave the key there. But Ryan had tied her up so quickly after she'd hidden it that she hadn't had a chance to do anything else with it. So there it had stayed.

That poor guy. It hadn't occurred to her that she could actually get him killed. One more thing to add to her list of unforgivable sins.

A tear traveled down her face.

Another chill went through her and she hugged herself, wishing she could disappear.

The offbeat sound of Lindsay's footsteps coming back into the bathroom caused her to raise her eyes. He and Ryan passed each other as Ryan left silently, smoking a cigarette as he went.

"Close the door," Lindsay said in a sharp voice .

Though she couldn't see Ryan's face, she could see Lindsay's, and the look of disapproval he shot at Ryan as he left.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she saw Ryan hesitate. Then, he sped up and the door closed behind him. Her stomach flipped unpleasantly and she put her head in her hands. A strange swell of emotions was rising in her.

Lindsay walked toward her slowly and then eased himself down into a crouch, hinging his brace as he went. She didn't realize until he gently took hold of her wrists that she was shaking. With deft, graceful fingers he began to untie the knots of the rope that bound her.

"Let's get you out of this," he said softly. Kindly. He began to gently peel the wet silk of her robe from her body. "It's all wet." Like a doll, she mutely allowed him to maneuver her arms and pull away the wet cloth. Though she was totally naked now, it felt better than wearing that thing for another second. She had come to loathe it intensely.

"How does a bath sound?" His soft voice was like a hand petting her gently. Kind and chaste.

Slowly, she raised her shaking hands and ran them through her hair. Without any preamble, she began to sob. The force of her grief and humiliation over having her hair forcefully taken from her shocked even her.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lindsay said. He pulled her against him while she cried and pressed one of his large, beautiful hands against the side of her head while she pressed her cheek against his chest, enveloping her in the rich, beautiful scent of his body. "He's such a shit."

"He's a fucking bastard," she sobbed. "My hair. My hair! Who the fuck does something like that!"

"If it's any consolation, you still look beautiful," Lindsay said. His voice was a soft, beautiful rumble in his chest.

For one moment, the fact that he said this buoyed her heavy heart. But then it sank again.

"I look awful," she moaned, her whole body shaking with her crying.

"Truly, you do not," Lindsay said, firmly. "You look charming. Though he isn't the most skilled stylist, so we'll even it out for you, but I think you'll be surprised at how flattering short hair is."

"That's not the point," she said, a touch heatedly.

He was silent for a moment. "I know." Another pause. "I'm serious about the bath. Would you like one?"

The thought of her head going under water made her tremble, made her stomach clench and unclench with a tight, animal fear. "What do you mean, a bath?"

"In the basin," Lindsay said. "I'll fill it with warm water. I'm afraid you're probably used to something fancier, but I always like to take a bath when I'm… distressed. It helps."

"Distressed." Evie laughed. She couldn't help herself. "Okay. Okay, I'll have a bath."

Truthfully, she didn't know what she would do if he hadn't appeared. She was still shaken to her core, but he was something warm and good to anchor herself to .

"You'll have to stand. Do you think you can?" She nodded again and she allowed him to help her stand, though she was vaguely aware that it was a struggle for him to do so because he had to carefully straighten the hinge on his leg brace. With his hands on her shoulders, he guided her toward the metal bin. Looking at it made her body tighten. She stopped and swallowed hard, not sure if she could even look at the thing, let alone get into it.

"I'll pour warm water over you." It was a gentle promise of comfort, one that made her feel a touch better.

She swallowed. "Okay."

Lindsay gently guided her the rest of the way to the basin and held her hand while she stepped in. It was just big enough for her to sit in. Not the sort of bath she'd ever had to use before the War or since. Growing up in wealth and prosperity, they had always had fine bathtubs and easily accessible water.

Evie hunched over in the basin and hugged her legs against her chest. Rested her cheek against her knees. The sound of running water behind her.

It occurred to her only vaguely that she felt absolutely no bashfulness about her nudity with him in the room, or about the fact that he was here, giving her a bath. Perhaps that was a testament to the gentleness of his presence. Or perhaps that was a testament to how unhinged Alex was.

"Just a little to start," Lindsay said above her. And then a small trickle of pleasantly warm water down her back. Though she knew it was coming, it still made her jolt. "A little more." And then a bigger splash of warm water. A blissfully comforting sensation. She settled in again, tucked into a small bundle, and waited for more water to come. He didn't splash her, didn't dump water over her. He spread it over her gently until the basin was nearly full.

Then, he knelt next to her with a bar of soap in his hand.

"May I?" he said, face neutral. Nothing lecherous about him.

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. His handsome, freckled hands both dipped into the water, one holding a small hand towel, and one holding the bar of soap. He scrubbed them together until he produced a lather.

Then he began to gently wash her with his hand tucked into the soapy cloth.

Evie let out a breath and felt a knot untie at the center of her. Though it was, by all standards, one of the worst baths she'd ever had, it was also the best. She had not been forced to go so long without the simple comfort of hygiene since she was in France.

The air was thick with tension and unspoken things. Evie's mind reeled through the horror of Alex holding her under the water, causing her muscles to bunch so tightly that they hurt. His words before he shoved her under the water came back to her again and again: because you killed our brother. Their brother? Were Alex and Ryan brothers?

"I didn't know," she said at last, voice hoarse as she stared down into the water. "I can't make anyone believe me, but I didn't know. He promised he wasn't going to kill anyone."

Lindsay's hands fell still, and both sat in total stillness and silence for moments that stretched into eternity.

"Walter Stanley," Lindsay said at last.

"Yes," Evie whispered.

"What did he ask you to do?"

She swallowed hard and didn't dare look at him. She didn't think she could stand to see the look on his face.

"A robbery," she said. "He made it sound like a simple robbery." She lifted water in her hands, splashed it onto her face, pushed her hair back. "I– I know I shouldn't have been involved in the first place. But he made it sound so… he made it sound like it wasn't a big deal. I should have known. He has a way of talking people into things. Lies. Manipulation. But I didn't think he'd go that far. Involving me in a– a murder." Her voice hitched.

"I didn't know. I really didn't know. Walter didn't pull the trigger. Walter told me that when they showed up to the rendezvous, I was to get out of the car like I was meeting them. So they got out of the car and came toward me. Happy to see me. And then one of Walter's guys, he rode with me in the back seat. He told me to stay right where I was. I thought it was strange. And then leaned out of the car. He had a gun. It was so loud."

She covered her eyes now and shook her head.

"I didn't know," she repeated.

"I believe you," Lindsay said at last. She risked a glance at him. It made her heart ache to see how his eyes glittered. He looked away from her and went back to pouring pitchers of water over her body.

"But I don't know if Ryan and Alex will."

"They're brothers?" She hugged her knees tightly, pressing her cheek into them, trying to erase the memory of the shotgun blast and that poor man screaming, clutching his leg. Blood on his hands. Blood everywhere. Fear in his eyes.

"No," Lindsay said. "They shared a brother. Tommy was their half-brother. Ryan and Tommy shared a father. Tommy and Alex shared a mother."

"Strange," she said softly. "It never occurred to me that you could share a sibling and not be related. And you aren't? Related to either of them?"

"I am, actually," Lindsay said. "Ryan and I are cousins. Our mothers were sisters."

"One happy little family," she said, voice shaking.

He gently lifted her leg in one hand and drew the washcloth along her skin with the other. Then, he gently lowered her leg back into the water and drew the other one out. Began to clean it reverently before lowering it again. Then they sat looking at each other for a long moment.

"Do you want to get out now?" Lindsay asked in his soft, patient voice.

"What happened to your leg?" The curiosity had finally overcome her. She'd wanted to know since she laid eyes on him, but hadn't felt in any way in a position to ask him. "Bullet? Shrapnel? "

"I didn't scurry fast enough," he said, an unhappy smile touching his lips. "A hand bomb that wiped out two of my friends and left me less than functional, as you see. Courtesy of my time in France."

"You were in France?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," said Lindsay, pouring another pitcher of water over her. "First Oklahoma Infantry via the 142nd Infantry, at your service. We all were. Except for Alex, anyway."

"You were at St. Etienne." Evie put her hand on his arm before she could stop herself. Voice breathless.

Lindsay's eyes grew dark and he dipped his head once. "Huge losses for all of us."

"You wouldn't have perhaps met a Frenchman, Etian Dupont? He was in the French 7th." Why it mattered so much whether or not this man, this stranger had met Etian, she didn't know. Perhaps it would make her feel less alone under the burden of carrying his memory through a world that seemed to have forgotten him.

Lindsay caught her hand in his and held it between his warm palms. "I'm sorry, I never did." He studied her face for a moment. "You love him?"

"Yes," she said. A coldness coming over her body that had nothing at all to do with the water droplets dripping slowly down her skin. "Very much." She looked away from him and pressed her lips together, swallowed down the thick knot in her throat. "I was Red Cross. I pulled shrapnel out of his face. He asked me to marry him. But he died. At St. Etienne. "

"Red Cross, hm." There was something else in Lindsay's expression now. Amusement? Perhaps even admiration. "A rich girl like you?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't sit around in New York City and do nothing."

"I felt the same way," Lindsay said. He smiled at her and then slowly lowered himself to skim the water off of her bottom and her legs. A comfortable silence settled between them, but the reality of her present circumstances began to seep into the feeling of warmth that had settled over her.

"What happens now?" she said quietly when he straightened.

He set his mouth into a grim line. "Just take it one day at a time."

They stood looking at each other for a long time. And then slowly, she exhaled.

"Okay," she said.

"But first," he said, a crooked smile slowly growing on his face. "Let's do something about this hair."